HORSE

HORSE

“It’s cruel! It’s wrong!”

Sarah is defiant.

She looks at Horse. Horse looks back. Two stubborn beasts with brown, black-lashed eyes. Sarah’s face is round, like her spectacles. Horse’s belly is round from lack of exercise. Ann, Sarah’s mother, can school Horse on the lunge line but she will not be able to persuade her daughter to change her mind.

“We can’t keep him if you don’t ride him.” Ann says, reasonably.

“He’s mine.” Sarah is marginally less strident, and also reasonable. “You gave him to me. I decide what happens to him.”

Adopting the impossible role of the loving realist, Ann says, “Yes Honey, but you don’t pay for food, livery or vet bills.”

Sarah is adamant.

“I don’t want him to be ridden by anyone at all - ever! It’s cruel to make any animal do the will of a human!”

Horse stands still. Ann sighs and leans harder on Horse. She leans on his left shoulder, one hand on his soft nose, her forehead against the hard curve of his muscled neck. She breathes in the animal heat of Horse, the edible vegetable smell of dung and urine on straw bedding. Herbivorous Horse smells better than carnivorous Cat and omnivorous Dog. Sarah hasn’t yet demanded that Ann doesn’t stroke Cat or walk Dog but then neither pet obeys Ann”s will. Ann averts her gaze from Cat and Dog when Sarah is at home. She feeds them in secret just in case they too have to be freed and returned to Nature which in all likelihood means the wilderness of the Village High Street.

Grungy human vegetarians don’t smell as good as Horse. They are smoked not groomed. Sarah has become a vegetarian and on Sunday nights smells of grunge instead of manure and riding boots. At first it was just hunting that was cruel but now it is riding Horse, or any horse at all. Sarah’s grungy dread-locked boyfriend doesn’t come to the stables even when Sarah is there alone. The Pony Club trophies and rosettes have gone from Sarah’s bedroom shelf to shoe boxes in her cupboard though not yet to the dustbin. Grungy Boy a.k.a. “Sky” has taken Sarah’s virginity but not yet all her pride or determination. Ann still hopes. Sky is however making successful inroads on Sarah’s mind and individuality and Ann despairs.

There is a deadly war going on. A war of morality that only the Righteous will win.

Sky the Grungy Boy is battling with Horse for the soul of Sarah.

Ann tells herself that it can’t be her battle. Her maternal relationship is mere collateral damage. She can take her injuries to the Tack Room and the brandy hidden in the First Aid Box.

Horse must fight his own battle.

It is an unequal battle and Horse will lose.

Horse will lose the battle but Ann will be a casualty too.

“Horse is your horse.” says Ann with decision. This is true but Ann loves Horse more than she can admit. Ann must not be seen by Sarah as her rival for Horse. She hands the reins to her reluctant daughter,

“If you won’t ride him and you won’t let him be ridden by anyone here – not even me – then he must be sold. Here – take him and see that he is groomed, check his shoes and feet – Jane is bringing Elspeth round – they may buy him.”

“I don’t want him to be ridden.” Sarah’s voice is smaller, her lip quivers. The pain of losing Horse is unbearable for her. Ann turns her head away at the sight. She must sit firm. Harden the heart that lost a stirrup at Sarah’s grief.

“He’s too young to be put out to grass.” Ann says, “He needs exercise or his health will suffer and he can’t run wild. Be sensible, Sarah. How can I tell someone who buys him what they can do with him? You can’t give him away – he’s too valuable!” She feels a small mean triumph, a tiny hope, some doubt at Sarah’s next materialist demand.

“You gave him to me, so the money is mine.”

“Sarah, you know how much Horse costs to keep! Remember the deal – if you were to go to university – or have a gap year - “

Sarah is not going anywhere that takes her away from Sky and says so again and then again for emphasis.

“Why don’t you listen, Mum? I will not join global capitalist exploiters!”

Ann remembers that her darling child experimented with chewing while she was being breastfed. Ann bites back.

“You won’t want the money then, will you?”

She thinks bitterly that the money would only go on a yurt or a tipi for Sky. And what would tent-dwelling, horse-riding nomads think of Sarah’s definition of riding as gratuitous and unnecessary cruelty? Ann mutters to herself then sighs. All arguments and persuasions have been tried and failed. Horse is not going to the fields of Paradise or any Happy Hunting Ground, Horse is going to be gone - no more – and finally, together with all horses that have no use and are never ridden, he will become extinct.

“What you don’t use – you lose!” She had tried to say that to Sarah. Sarah had thought that Ann meant to threaten her but it was Horse who was in danger.

“What will you do with the money?” Sarah asks aggressively.

“I suppose,” replies Ann with sadness, “that I will get rid of Donkey at the same time. He has needed to be replaced for ages.”

“Why?”, Sarah is surprised into asking.

“I could use a better quality of transport.”

In fact Ann doesn’t want technology, she likes animal. She wants her feet on the ground and her spade in horse manure.

“You, Mum! A new car - instead of Donkey!” Sarah is shocked.

“We got Donkey because of Horse and for Horse remember? I won’t need a beaten up old van with a faulty heater and a broken windscreen wiper if we don’t have to transport feed for Horse.”

“I won’t buy a new car, but I will buy as green a car as I can.” Ann adds, quickly, before Sarah can criticise.

Mother and Daughter stand between their tame animal past and an uncertain and savage technological future. Sarah holds Horse’s leather bridle, Ann holds the metal keys to Donkey.

Horse simply waits.