All In The Family

My $3,000.00 hearing aid gives me problems. It cause me to hear things that I do not want to hear. I cringe at this new phenomenon of referring to horses as babies and the owners as their parents. Do not get me wrong. I love babies and was once one myself. Babies are wonderful. They crawl, are clumsy, must be cared for 24/7, and one should never defer to their judgement.

My horses are not babies. They carry me fifty miles in a day. They walk through walls of brambles and briers with less effort than high school football players break through the long paper signs at the goal posts at the beginning of each game. They are not just powerful, they are power. They have little in common with babies.

Perhaps the most glaring difference is that I respect their opinions. Sometimes I defer to their judgments. If I ask Comet to go somewhere and he balks, I pause to consider his perspective. He often has found something of danger that I did not note.

I always defer to my horses' judgement during night rides in pitch darkness. Perhaps that is a big part of why someone my age and at my level of obesity rides with such confidence. I know that I am not riding a baby. I am riding a tough, hard scrabble veteran that I trust.

But there is another side of the coin. The tough hardscrabble veteran needs attention and affection every bit as much as a baby. I give them that affection.

I can do so without thinking of them as helpless. This is Samson, the Corolla that to my observation seems to have the highest level of endurance of any of the ones that I have seen ridden on super long rides.

He is not a baby.

See those little pigs. They are babies. I do not entrust my health and safety to them.

To do so would be childish.