ARABIAN HORSE WORLD
I
was in a little Paris bistro recently, writing my notes
( A m o r
YOUR
ARABIAN HORSE WORLD
from the day, when a handsome man asked if he could I mentioned the horses in mine, and he said, “I believe horses are exploited. Dogs, too.” Ummm … Really?
Check, please! This affiliation with horses and dogs is an ancient one, you know? The dog was man’s first hunting partner, and the horse helped us clear the land and plant our crops. You and I are sitting here, in this little corner of Paris, thanks to these partnerships the dog and the horse formed with us eons ago. And they are with us still.
122 ▪ ARABIAN HORSE WORLD ▪ NOVEMBER 2015
F a t i )
join me. (Only in Paris!) As we talked about our lives,
YOUR
( A m o r
I
was in a little Paris bistro recently, writing my notes from the day, when a handsome man asked if he could I mentioned the horses in mine, and he said, “I believe horses are exploited. Dogs, too.” Ummm … Really?
Check, please! This affiliation with horses and dogs is an ancient one, you know? The dog was man’s first hunting partner, and the horse helped us clear the land and plant our crops. You and I are sitting here, in this little corner of Paris, thanks to these partnerships the dog and the horse formed with us eons ago. And they are with us still.
122 ▪ ARABIAN HORSE WORLD ▪ NOVEMBER 2015
F a t i )
join me. (Only in Paris!) As we talked about our lives,
B Y P H O T O S
Special moments with the three-quarter Arabian JW Jo Jangles (JoJo Dancer x DRS Special Request) and the Australian Shepherd “Rio.”
D E N I S E B Y
H E A R S T
A P R I L
V I S E L
I also tell him this … “J” sees my truck pull up to the barn and gallops to me. I lean my forehead on his and I tell him he’s a good boy. He stands while I tack him up and we head out. I smile at the dog trotting along beside me and the horse, because he’s up to something that strikes me funny. I stroke the horse’s mane in appreciation of his goodness, and I think, this is the dream. This was always the dream … to have a dog of such intelligence and companionability — one that would allow me to explore new realms of training and competition — and a horse so kind, so considerate, that together we could explore the wilds. Just be, in nature … quiet. Like most of my friends in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I didn’t have a car in high school, so when Navajo, the hard-mouthed paint from Idaho arrived one Christmas, I took one look and thought, “freedom.” Navajo and I explored every canyon, arroyo, and dusty sagebrush-studded plateau of the Sorrento Valley in North San Diego County, and in that way some yearning that I must have been born with, started to be satisfied. I rode with my little tribe of friends, half of us bareback, not necessarily by choice … maybe the saddle would come next Christmas. We tore around, playing cowboys and Indians, fashioning makeshift forts in Sycamore caves, and diving into the catch pond from the rumps of our horses.
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Sometimes, when Navajo and I rode alone, I felt free to imagine what my life might be, and who I wanted to be … until one day, as we followed a meandering cattle trail going nowhere in particular, I realized that the horse had given me the freedom to find my own way. Navajo got sold down the road when I went off to college, but the first Arabian came shortly thereafter, a gift from my then mother-in-law. I’ve had one ever since. And now, it seems, I’m following the horse all the way to the end of the story.
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The evening sun suffuses everything with gold. The fresh breeze off the ocean smells like salty grass. A sense of well-being comes suddenly, unbidden. This is happiness, I think. I look at my boys and feel flooded with love, with gratitude, for their willing spirits, for their joy in being up here in the hills with me.
125 b ARABIAN HORSE WORLD b NOVEMBER 2015
126 b ARABIAN HORSE WORLD b NOVEMBER 2015
We take the long way home because this evening is so lovely, and for a change I’m not in a hurry, and neither is the horse. Grateful for that, too. We untack in the twilight, let the horse loose in his pasture, and the dog and I head home for dinner. I was talking to a friend the other day, and asked him how he was. He said, “Content.” The word startled me. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe myself. Sometimes I think there are little pieces of a life that are still missing, and that part of me is waiting for my real life to begin. But then I think of my own little holy trinity … dog, horse, woman, and I realize this is contentment. Now, the man in the Paris bistro has a tear in his eye. And I do, too.
127 b ARABIAN HORSE WORLD b NOVEMBER 2015