Mar 18, 2012

Notebook, check. Pencil, check. Subject, Equus Erratus, check.

It was so strange watching him that day. He didn’t seem upset or hysterical. He actually looked quite businesslike as he went back and forth, never changing his rhythm or his posture. He clearly didn’t want the company of the other horses; his neighbors had come over to give a horsie hello and he didn’t seem to see them or respond in any way. ‘Places to go! Things to do! No time for chitchat!’ he might have said. He didn’t care to eat and roll on the grass. You really couldn’t tell *what* he wanted, if anything. But it was clear that none of the usual management nostrums were going to work with Bryan.  I had a feeling that I was in uncharted territory.

But for the first time since he had arrived I felt calm, interested, and intrigued. That near death experience, my unexpected and happy survival, and my acceptance of the task in front of me had utterly dismissed my previous discouraged feeling of God Help Us! Knowing that I would help him, either by rehabilitation or mercy killing, gave me a goal.

So, there he was. I remembered from Lisa that he was also…er…unnerved when she first got him but that he had eventually (note to self: ask Lisa how long 'eventually' was...) settled in to her routine. I would work him, ride him, clip him, and deal with him like any of the other boys, and get to the bottom of him, or that would be that. I would now consider all of our interactions Data Gathering, and go from there.