A Little Horse with a Big Story

Today, Cali and I attended the annual Michigan National Association of
Social Workers http://www.naswdc.org/ conference as presenters.

Well, I presented and Cali did what she does best—work and look completely adorable.

Claudia, my friend, was pretty nervous about the whole thing, while I wasn't at
all. In a novel, that would have boded ill for me and I would have
made a complete mess of things. Luckily, this is real life, and my
lack of nervousness just meant I was completely relaxed about the
whole thing.

As usual, Cali was a huge success. People told me I did a wonderful
job, and when I thanked them, I had to add that Cali makes the whole
thing even better! She was the most perfect of the perfect, the
sweetest of the sweet. Everyone fell in love with her, despite the
fact that she wasn't as cute as she might have been.

So, the story goes like this: Due to unforseen circustances, I didn't
give my girl a bath yesterday and so rushed to do it this morning. She
was an angel while getting a bath (I think it helped that the water
was hot!), and I didn't have any trouble at all with her. The only
funny thing was that she decided by drink the hot water from the hose.
I pulled it away pretty quickly because I didn't know if it would make
her sick. Call me overpretective because well, I am. That's probably
the reason I won't have kids. God only knows what I'd do to them, for
them!

Anyhow, I dried Cali off as best I could, but we were running late,
which meant I didn't have much time. I figured she'd aear dry pretty
quickly, especially since we were in the car and the heat was on, but
as all too frequently happens, I was WRONG.

When we got to the NASW conference, Miss Cali was still a little damp
and her hair was going everywhere! She was spikey and so NOT cute! So
I took her into the bathroom and brushed her. Okay, so I carry a brush
and shampoo in my backpack. It isn't a crime, right? Anyway, amidst
numerous questions from women who came in to the ladies' room, I
brushed her as well as I could, meaning that I made her look only
marginally better. Despite that, during the conference, many people
commented on how beautiful she is. My only rejoinder was, "That's
because she's so awesome!"

After the conference was over, Cali took me straight to the bank of
elevators and did not hesitate when one of the doors opened. She
walked right in even before I realized that a door had opened. Of
course, I was impressed and gave her lots of praise.

After the conference, we went to my parents' house for dinner. As soon
as we got out of the car, Cali made a beeline for the fence of her
enclosure, showed me the fence, then put her head down to graze. This
is something she did last summer. It's something I taught her because I
wanted her to show me the fence in order to get my bearings before I
allowed her to stop and graze. And again, she impressed me. Obviously,
she remembered the rule.

When Cali was put into her pen, she decided it was time to roll, and
roll she did. There was straw and hay on the ground to keep down the
mud, Cali decided it was just fine to roll and get dusty. I would
have cried. After all, I'd only just given her a bath in the morning,
but I decided that a horse is a horse, and mine is just Cali.

I am normally meticulous about brushing Cali before I go anywhere, but
after dinner, when we were ready to leave, I found that Cali had once
again rolled. There was straw in her mane, tail, and forelock, and she
was happy. I brushed out some of the straw with my hands and said,
"Fogret it." Then we went home.

Every day, Cali amazes me, teaches me something new about people and
love and horses. she taught me today that I underestimate her and even
myself, that I'm capable of doing more than I think, and that she is
simply magnificent, best of the best, cutest of the cutest, and
sweetest of the sweet. May she have many more happy, healthy,
love-filled years! And may I be deserving of her love and trust and
loyalty. Often, I tell her how much I love her, and I hope she really
understands.

--
Mona