In the Seattle airport I stood in line to get sandwiches behind a lovely older woman. She couldn’t have been even five feet tall, because she didn’t clear the counter. She was dressed up, like everyone used to be when they flew. She wore a plaid scarf and a Christmas pin attached to the lapel of her grey coat. Her white hair was perfectly coifed. And she clutched her pocketbook to her side, like it held the crown jewels.
She Just Wanted a Cookie
She had chosen a pre-packaged bagel sandwich and was interested in the cookies that were lined up in front of the cash register. They all looked the same. “Are there different kinds of cookies?” Her voice was soft, barely audible. The clerk ignored her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What kinds of cookies are there?”
The clerk finally seemed to wake up. “They’re all different,” she said with a sigh, her voice devoid of any expression. And of course, she didn’t bother to name the various kinds.
The woman stood on tiptoe and peered at the packages of cookies, as if trying to decipher the miniscule writing. Finally, she chose one. As she went to pay for her lunch, she dropped her cane. Then, when she bent to retrieve the cane, she dropped her wallet.
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” someone muttered behind me. “Get a move on.”
I picked up the wallet and returned it to the now rattled woman.
“I’m holding you up,” she said to me.
I smiled. “I’m in no hurry. Take your time.”
She handed the clerk a twenty and then tucked the change into her wallet. She gathered her lunch, her cane and her dignity, and walked to a table.
“Stupid old lady,” the young man behind me said.
Maybe he thought he was going to miss his plane.
Or maybe he was just being rude.
I considered saying something to him, but decided not to. This is where I definitely could have used Mija’s “stink eye.”
Next Day in the Pasture
When I went out to feed my two old sweeties the next day, I found that the horses had been shut out of the two pastures they’d been in all fall. I didn’t realize it until I’d pulled up to the regular gate and called them. Bud heard me right away and tried to come, but of course he couldn’t because the gate was closed.
I had to drive around to the back gate, which was some distance away, and out of sight for the horses. I unloaded the feed pans and set out to retrieve Bud and Pepper. I didn’t mind the long walk, since I’d spent the previous day in the car, the ferry and finally an airplane. It felt good to move.
Everyone from the large herd was clustered in the shed and the surrounding paddock. It was as if they were confused and didn’t know where to go now that their familiar turf was blocked off. They hadn’t yet figured out that they had access to another large pasture.
Our little herd of oldsters was tucked into the back of the shed. When Bud saw me, he nickered and then tried to get through the knot of horses that blocked the exit. He started and then stopped.
He was afraid.
All the big, younger horses that he didn’t like were in his way. I could feel the anxiety coming off him. He and Pepper would take a few steps and then turn back. There was no way they were going to push through.
They’re old and vulnerable and they know it.
I realized I was going to have to help. I hadn’t brought a lead rope, because usually I don’t need one. I headed back to the car. Bud and Pepper returned to their friends in the corner of the shed. I was still glad to be walking, but I berated myself for not bringing the rope in the first place!
Note to self: Always bring a lead rope.
When I got back to the shed, I circled the rope above my head and the whirring sound worked to disperse the horses. Bud saw a hole and ran through.
Right to the gate that was closed.
I called him, but he was absolutely sure this was the way to his lunch.
All the while, Pepper watched.
I put the halter on Bud and began to lead him toward the new pasture.
That’s when Pepper got it.
“Oh that’s where we’re going,” she seemed to say.
She punched her way through the horses and headed down the lane.
Bud eventually quit resisting me and realized I was taking him the right way.
Once we’d cleared the lane, I let him run along with Pepper.
Crisis averted.
There was a time in Bud’s life when he wasn’t afraid of anything. He’s a big boy and was usually the alpha in the herd. Now he avoids conflict because I believe he knows he can’t win.
As Bud and Pepper tried to get to me, and their lunch, I was reminded of the woman in the airport who was simply trying to get her lunch.
It’s hard to grow old and lose your status in society – horse or human. It makes me sad that we so often treat our seniors with disrespect.
As if they don’t even exist.
As if they are invisible.
--Jean
Jean - what an interesting perspective...I have been in situations much like the older lady...I have fumbled and dropped things and fished for change while others behind me sighed with impatience....but to observe the horses' interactions - gives one something to think about..I am glad they found their way. I love your stories!
Posted by: Midge | January 13, 2012 at 06:43 AM
Oh Midge, thank you for reading my stories!
Posted by: Jean McBride | January 13, 2012 at 08:19 AM
This is such a beautiful piece, Jean ~ You've really touched my heart with this one. Again!
x o Marty
Posted by: Marty Tousley | January 13, 2012 at 11:26 AM
Hi Marty, Thank you for taking time to read and comment.
Posted by: Jean McBride | January 14, 2012 at 06:26 AM
Jean! You have taught me much about horses. I have never even seen one in person, having always been a city dweller with little time to explore rural areas where these majestic creatures live....I just want you to know I read almost all of your postings, but I seldom comment due to lack of knowledge....I promise to comment more, as I truly love what you write and I am also coming to understand the nature of horses through these postings.
Posted by: Midge | January 14, 2012 at 06:32 AM
Jean, I love your stories. My mother-in-law has four horses and I am slowly getting to become comfortable around them. But reading your pieces always make me appreciate it them even more. I definitely have been in that situation you have described watching someone almost bully a weaker one but because I cannot seems to control my voice I have had to say somebody. Usually getting some sort of nasty reply back but I feel as though I have spoken for the underdog. There are soo many things we can learn from the animal world it never ceases to amaze me.
Posted by: Christina Perez Bass | January 19, 2012 at 11:57 AM
Hey Christina, thanks so much for reading my stories and my adventures in the pasture with my two old sweeties. I think we all have to speak up more. Good for you!
Posted by: Jean McBride | January 19, 2012 at 12:03 PM