Daily prompt–Imperfection

The WordPress prompt of the day is….

Imperfections — in things, in people, in places — add character to life. Tell us about an imperfection that you cherish.

I have plenty imperfections of my own, but this post is about the imperfection of my horse, Sunday.  You see her every time you see my gravatar.  She’s a Missouri Foxtrotter, which means she has a gait that, instead of the usual bumpy trot, is so smooth that you could ride forever.  It’s the epitome of that rocking chair feeling.

Sunday can’t stand still, although now that she’s 30, her energy level has diminished.  In her heyday (or for a horse, maybe a hay-day), she stopped when asked but after a few moments, she began to dance.  She didn’t try to get away, she didn’t put us in danger in any way; she just danced. She tossed her head to indicate her impatience. She wanted to go and she wanted me to know she was ready.  We had somewhere to go and she wanted to get there.

When she walked, we moved inexorably away from following horses.  Periodically we’d stop and wait.  When the other horse or horses got within a certain distance, Sunday decided that was close enough and, if I didn’t let her go, the dance began.  One day my husband and I were on a ride together.  I was on Sunday, he on Lad, a pleasant horse, a little overweight but fun to ride.  We’d gone all the way to the bottom of Sand Coulee, a long, winding, rutted road down to a river. You’d never drive down without a four-wheel drive vehicle (not if you wanted your drive to survive!)   Coming out, Bill thought he’d try to leave us behind, urging Lad into a canter. I loosened the reins, Sunday went into a higher gear and off we went.  No matter how fast Bill pushed Lad, who was soon huffing and puffing, Sunday was always ahead.  We laughed so hard we were in danger of falling off!  But Lad was never going to catch Sunday and Sunday would always go until asked to stop.  Dad and I figured if she ever died, it would be mid-stride.  Some people who rode her didn’t like her dancing.  I loved her passion for motion.  I never once in all those years had to kick her to get her to go faster.  What a joy!

Sunday’s now retired, gifted to friends who have a ranch at the bottom of the mountains and who will take care of her now that her teeth aren’t good and she needs special food to eat.  If turned out to run out on the range all winter, she would be dead.  I’d rather have her being loved and cared for, than see her each summer, although I could visit her.  In spite of…no, because of…her imperfection, her inbred desire to move and to move quickly, she will always fill a place in my heart that no “perfect” horse will ever fill.  I hope to grow old as gracefully and energetically as she has.

Still dancing after all these years (both of us.)