Heroic Act #1:
A body was sprawled out in the grassy lanes between the paddocks, a large hat knocked off to one side. I recognize the hat. It’s John’s. He’s not moving.
If I had not been leading a very excited horse down this hill, I wouldn’t have had the vantage point to see him in the tall grass at the bottom.
He was waaaaay down by the tree in the middle.
I call out his name. No answer. Horse feels my nerves and begins to try the whole “I am a Dervish” thing, on the line, ensuring I can’t run straight down, or John will get trampled. I yell for trainer and co-worker, shouting “John is down! I think he’s hurt, HELP! Paddocks!!”
They run out of the barn, closer to him than I am, and like good horse people, instantly read my body language, following my line of sight, know where he is before I say a word. I whip out my phone and start to punch in 911.
This is how John was rescued from a nice nap in the sun, in the grass, near his beloved horses.
I am a hero.
We’re calling it a safety drill, FYI.
Heroic Act #2:
Last night, in my dream, I finished bagging Hudson’s Happy Meals for the week. (Okay, aside: who the heck dreams about bagging grain?) I was suddenly, in the way of dreams, standing on my front porch: halter to clean in one hand, turning the key in the lock with the other. I open the door and am faced with a very large mountain lion. One pacing and eyeballing Husdon’s good leather halter in my hand. It smells like horse. The lion wants the halter.
Just throw the halter to one side…don’t clean it
But. But. It’s Hudson’s good halter…(horse people are unbelievably stubborn)
lt still takes a slight amount of stalking behavior from the mountain lion in my kitchen, to convince me I probably should hand over the halter if I want to live.
I do. Resentfully.
The dream should end here. Smart people’s dreams end here. (The horse person lives, buys a new halter, the mountain lion has a light nosh on sweaty leather. Win win. Right?)
Instead, I follow the lion as it stalks out of the house, halter in mouth. Somewhat safety conscious, I stay back at least six whole feet. The lion doesn’t think six feet is enough. We stare at each other.
I am not a brave person. But dang it. It’s Hudson’s good halter. Why didn’t I grab a can of tuna? Bait and switch. Too late.
What do I do? Dart forward and snatch the halter from the lion’s mouth.
The lion flattens his ears and hisses, begins to whip his tail. I immediately come to my senses and hurl the halter back at him. He picks it up, and turns to walk away.
Unbelievable! I run up and snatch it away again. I am highly aware this is a very very bad idea.
So I throw it back again.
I woke up on the third mad dash to steal the halter back.
Can we say: “Jane has problems letting go?“
I could understand this dream if the lion wanted Hudson. I can see becoming uncharacteristically brave if I were trying to rescue my beloved horse. But…a halter…?
Since I was uncharacteristically brave in the face of a mountain lion (over a stupid halter), I’m sticking to “I am a Hero”.