07-04-2023, 08:15 AM
OOC: Forgive me, I am not 12 years old. Telling a story from Frankie’s perspective is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, so ignore the fact that he probably doesn’t think like a 12 year old.
Also, congrats Cor'. Love you buddy.
They say I don’t have friends, but I do. I just don’t invite them over because I don’t like the ‘wow’s’ that come with it. I was born to a poor couple in Brooklyn, not a rich one in Manhattan. Heck, I never even went to a private school until I went to live with my new dad. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great. Mom’s great. But this isn’t the life I was supposed to live, so the looks and the comments when I would show kids around the house in New York just made me really uncomfortable.
Mom sorta gets it, but Dad doesn’t. Why would he? The life he lives he was born into. It’s the only thing he knows. He’s aware that most aren’t born with what he was but until you live it, you never fully understand it. Then to go from that world to this one? It’s a change. I mean, I love my life. Being their son and big brother to T.J. and Caty? It’s fun almost everyday.
My friends always wanna know what it’s like being their son. Mostly Dad’s. He has been a popular person in New York for years. Even before I knew him. So he always creates some kind of buzz and kids are generally curious about that.
My dad is my favorite person. I hardly show it to him, but I’m grateful that there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t remind me that he loves me. Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, he shows it in so many other ways. It’s not always the lovey hugs and flowery words of encouragement that he’s known for. Sometimes, it’s the dreaded ‘D’ word. That’s right. Discipline.
I feel like I’m a pretty smart kid, but I’m still two-teen. Sometimes I do things I know I’m not supposed to. Ryan, the boy I met from next door, was here yesterday and my mind said ‘oh dads busy meeting someone new, he won’t yell too much.’
See, I’m not allowed to ride my dirt bike in the woods. Mom doesn’t like me on it at all and Dad thinks the woods are too dangerous and as he puts it, I get too ‘ballsy’. While Dad was at the fence talking to Ryan’s dad Brentwood, I showed Ryan my dirt bikes. He doesn’t know how to ride but I’ll teach him.
As soon as I’m ungrounded.
What happened was that Ryan rode with me and I went into the woods where I wasn’t supposed to be. We stopped in the woods because we found this old shack. As we were getting back on my motorcycle, we disturbed a nest of yellow jackets which I guess made them pretty mad. Ryan and I both were stung multiple times but we had to escape them. So we rode hard out of the woods right passed my Dad and Brent. Thing is, the shore is only about fifty or a hundred feet from the trees and we ended up in the ocean. Dad was… well… I’ve never seen his face that red with anger. When I say ‘yell’ when talking about him, it’s not really yelling. It’s more like faster speaking and a slightly raised voice. Yesterday, it was actual yelling. He’s never done that before.
”What the hell were you thinking!?” he yelled out as he helped me and Ryan up out of the water. ”To the house!”
”Ryan, let’s go on home,” Brent said as he led him across the lawn.
”I’m sorry Brent,” Dad said to him.
”Kids man,” Brent said as he walked away. ”They’ll be the death of us all.”
”It’s not my fault!” I tried to argue. ”We were bein’ chased by bees and…”
”Enough!” he shouted. ”First of all, you’re not allowed in the woods with your bike. Secondly…”
Then I messed up again.
”But Dad…”
”Stop talking!” he yelled. I sorta feel like if he was a different kind of person that he’d have hit me right there. ”Secondly, you put not only yourself but Ryan in danger too! Thirdly, you put your bike in the frickin’ ocean and you know salt water just ruined your frickin’ motorcycle!”
”Dad I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
”Not yet, but you will be,” Dad argued.
”What’s wrong?” Mom shouted from the porch across the lawn as we made our way toward her.
”Your son just put his bike in the drink!” Dad yelled back.
”Here we go,” I muttered under my breath.
”FRANKIE!”
”Thanks for not tellin’ her I went in the woods,” I said to my dad quietly.
”He was also in the woods with it!”
Ugggh. Betrayal.
”FRANCIS! ROBERT! DUKE!”
”Mom!”
”Don’t you ‘Mom’ me! Get your butt upstairs and rinse off,” Mom ordered.
With both of them yelling at me, Mufasa decided to belt out a roar from the porch. Mufasa! He always has my back!
”Shut up Mufasa!” Dad shouted and the lion huffed and curled up on the sun porch to go back to sleep.
”I’m surrounded by enemies,” I said with sadness. I’m still not sure today whether it was real sadness or fake.
”Boy that is where you’re wrong,” Dad said as he grabbed me by the shoulder and made me look at him. ”Everyone here loves you to death. But this is a big one. Rinse off like your mom said. When you come back down, don’t put on any clothes that you actually like.”
”What’s that mean?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he shoved me lightly, ushering me toward the house. As I walked, I heard them talking. Mom was furious. Dad was a little more laid back. Typical of them.
I took my time in the shower. Letting the water flow over me as I thought about what happened, I realized I was wrong. I knew I was wrong from the start, but I get it more now. Dad… he’s gone through a lot of things to keep me safe and while he wanted to let the reins off a little bit once we moved here, I overstepped. I don’t know what other kids feel when they’re wrong, but I feel like crap.
”Mom?” I said as I made my way down the stairs. She looked at me while changing Caty’s diaper. ”I’m really sor…”
”Frankie, I don’t wanna hear it right now,” she said coldly. ”You’re gonna want jeans.”
Looking down at myself, I only have one question. ”It’s like 85 out there. What’s wrong with shorts?”
”Your dad has a job for you,” Mom said as she patted Caty on her behind.
Talon meanwhile, walks to me with a face full of smiles and wants me to pick him up. ”Fank,” he pleads with his version of my name and his arms up to me. Naturally, I gave him what he wanted. Once I picked him up, he wrapped his arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. It’s always such a nice feeling.
”Trust me,” Mom said. ”You’re gonna want jeans.”
”I’m sorry,” I said sadly as I rubbed T.J.’s back.
”I’m sure you are baby,” Mom says as she gets up and takes Talon from me. ”But not half as sorry as you will be.
“Go change.”
”Yes ma’am,” I said quietly before making my way back upstairs.
After changing again, I went outside. My dad was drenched from the waist down as he pulled my motorcycle from the ocean with the winch on his truck. He looked in my direction just once as my bike pokes up out of the water and is dragged onto the lawn.
”I don’t want you to talk,” he said curtly as I approached.
”Yes sir,” I replied shamefully.
”In our three years together Frankie, not once have I thought you were taking advantage of the situation,” he began. ”Today you did. Today you took advantage of the fact that I was distracted with Mr. Thompson. You took advantage of the fact that your Mom was in the house with the twins. You took advantage of the fact that I trust you to make the right decisions and you failed me.
“You let me down and that hurts.”
”Dad, I…”
”It’s not time for you to talk,” he interrupted with a raised voice. ”I’m out here working my ass off to give you all the things you want. I get into arguments with your mother because she doesn’t want you on motorcycles at all and I have your back over that and this is how you repay me?
“You can forget your dirt bike track this year,” he said.
That one stings.
”Your crankcase is full of frickin’ salt water, man! It’s ruined,” he pauses. ”It’s clear to your mother and I that you don’t know the value of a dollar.”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse for any dumb thing I’ve done than I do right now.
”We got a lot of money, kid,” he continued on. ”But that doesn’t mean you just ruin every damn thing you have. That’s taking advantage of the situation. You put yourself in danger, you put Ryan in danger and you ruined a twelve thousand dollar motorcycle to boot.
“Get your ass to the stables.”
I stood there a minute. I thought about everything he said. It hurts me to know that I made him this angry at me. He tried to muscle my motorcycle into the bed of his truck and lost his grip. Naturally, I tried to help him.
”I got this Frankie!” he yelled. ”To the stables.”
”For what though?” I asked.
”Because horses shit where they stand and you’re gonna clean it up,” he said as he leaned his backside on his tailgate. ”Every stall, except Minerva.”
Minerva is one of the eight horses we bought. She’s kind of wild and not so fond of people. Her last owners left a saddle on her for the last month. Every time they tried to take the saddle off of her, she’d get angry or scared and start trying to kick them. They threw her in for free.
As I started to make my way across the lawn toward the stables, I took my shirt off. The stables always smell really bad, so I wanted to use my shirt to cover my mouth and nose.
Slam!
I turned my head back and dad has successfully thrown my bike into the bed of his truck. He spied me looking.
”Hey!” he called out as he rushed over to me. As he neared me, he took the shirt from my head. ”No way.”
”But Dad!” I protested.
”First of all you gotta get used to it,” he said as he balled up my shirt and threw it on the hood of his truck. ”And secondly, that’s part of your punishment.”
”Can I at least listen to music?” I asked.
”Go ahead,” he answered after some thought.
A few minutes later, I was in the stables. Standing in the doorway for a couple minutes, I watched as the horses chewed on some hay or drank from their water troughs. All the while, trying to get used to the stench. If you’ve never been inside a horse stable, you have no idea how rank it is. Just crap and pee smells that invade all your senses.
After putting my earbuds in, I got to work. It was really frustrating at first. As soon as I’d clean one stall and move to the next, the horse in the one I just cleaned would take another dump. Like how do they just exist to poop all the time? They don’t do anything but stand there. How do they have so much poop!?
I guess though, Dad was right. At first, the smell was so bad that I threw up like three times. But the longer I worked, the easier it got. I guess you do get used to it. Or at least, enough to not throw up every thirty seconds. Cleaning the stalls isn’t an easy job. I have a new respect for the stable hands now when they do it. It takes a while. The turds are large and heavy. On the bright side, I can feel what little muscles I have getting bigger. Maybe I won’t ever be as built up as my dad is, or even my mom for that matter. But if I did this all summer I think I’d be pretty jacked for a two-teen year old.
The last stall is Minerva. Dad specifically told me not to do that one. She isn’t very friendly, but no one knows why. Standing outside her gate, she looks at me with her huge side eye.
”Hey girl,” I said sweetly after removing my earbuds. ”Why the long face?” I chuckled to myself.
Minerva obviously doesn’t answer me, but she did let out a snort. Reaching up toward her face, she pulls away from me and whinnies. Grabbing her leads, I yanked her toward me.
”Be nice!” I scolded her. ”I’m nice too.” Weary of her past behavior, I took my free hand and slowly reached for her nose. She tried to bite me at first. It scared me so instinctively, I tapped her on the nose. In response, she shook her head, trying to free her leads from my other hand.
She spies me sorta like the ‘sus’ memes on the internet. Again, I reached toward her face. This time, she let me scratch under her chin.
”See Minerva? That’s a good girl,” I said as her fear started to subside some. Reaching up again, I petted her gently down the length of her nose. ”Why you so angry huh? Bet you want that saddle off you.”
Pausing a moment, I looked around to see if anyone could see me. They couldn’t. Obviously, I’m gonna make another bad decision. Stepping into the lone empty stall beside Minerva’s, I used my phone as a flashlight in the darkened stables. I noticed what looked like blood dripping from the rear saddle strap on her belly.
”Aww,” I said aloud. ”I bet they put it on too tight and pinched you huh?” I asked as I reached through into her stable. As soon as I grabbed a hold of the strap, Minerva was ready to fight. She stepped sideways and tried to kick me. ”AHHH!” I screamed. Thankfully, the stable is well built and she kicks the wall. That didn’t stop it from scaring the heck out of me though as I jumped back, tripped over the pitchfork and landed in a water trough.
”Frankie!?” Dad called out as he ran inside.
”Over here,” I called out from my place in the trough. ”Empty stall.”
”What happened? You alright?” he asked as he approached.
”I know what’s wrong with Minerva,” I said as I climbed out to my feet. ”She tried to kick me.”
”You’re not supposed to mess with her,” he chastised me.
”I know,” I answered. ”I didn’t go in, but I wanted to see what was wrong with her.”
”The vet is coming on Monday to sedate her and look at her,” Dad told me.
”She’s bleeding,” I said and dad just looked at me. ”I think they put her saddle on too tight and it cut into her.”
”Where?” he asked.
Using my phone for light again, I shined it right on the dripping blood. ”See?”
”Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. ”Go get the ropes,” he instructed.
”What are you gonna do?” I asked as I hurried to get him the ropes.
”I’m still figuring that out,” he answered as I returned.
”Tie her to the wall,” I suggested. ”Not tight enough to hurt her when she tries to fight but tight enough that she can’t kick you when she does kick.
“You can reach right through. I’ll give her some sugar cubes to distract her.”
”Alright well, don’t touch her,” he instructed me. ”She’s about to get really pissed. Grab that ointment from the cabinet first."
After handing him the tin, I wrapped her leads tight on the post while dad threw the rope around her backside.
”Sugar,” he suggested as he reached into the stall to grab the rope end.
Pulling it through, he pulled her close to the stall wall and tied it off the best he could on the other end of the empty stall. Already, she wasn’t happy as she snorted repeatedly and struggled against her bindings.
”Just hold your hand out, let her have as many cubes as she wants,” Dad said as he reached through the boards again.
He slowly and gently released the strap from the front and released the rear one from the buckle loop with her blood running all over his hand. Minerva calmed for a moment and ate more cubes. As she calmed, dad cinched the rear strap tighter, freeing it from the buckle. Almost immediately Minerva bucked, whinnied and kicked. In the process, the saddle that was stuck on her back for over a month flew from her back and landed beside her.
”Rags,” Dad instructed.
Quickly, I tossed him some.
”Why didn’t they ever call a vet for her?” I asked.
”I dunno kid. Ya can’t fix stupid.”
She was less angry now, but still upset as dad wiped her belly wound clean of blood. Every now and then he’d dip the rags in a bucket of water as he cleaned her up the best he could. Minerva still struggled against her bindings, but less and less as he cleaned her up then applied the ointment to her raw skin. Once he was finished, Minerva calmed down considerably while he let her free of her binds.
”Can I free her leads?” I asked.
”Yeah,” he answered.
After freeing her leads, she snorted at me and nodded. Reaching up, I stroked the side of her face. She seemed to enjoy that as she leaned her head lower and closer. Horses are intelligent animals. Maybe they don’t have that sixth sense that dogs do, where they can tell a good person from a bad person, but they do know when you’ve helped them, when you care for them. The result of my efforts is that I made a new animal friend. Minerva went from angry and wanting to fight everyone, to licking my entire head.
Afterward, Dad called the vet and offered him triple his going rate to come out on an emergency call. While what Dad did probably would have been fine until Monday, he didn’t want to take chances with an open wound. The vet came and sedated her as planned. I stayed with her the whole time and held her head in my lap. She was scared but powerless to fight or kick as her consciousness faded. Soon, the doctor had her wounds cleaned, stitched and pumped full of antibiotics to fight off any infections she might have contracted.
The vet advised that we didn’t saddle her for at least two weeks. My dad insisted we’d wait at least three to be safe. I knew what I was doin’. Those three weeks, I’d lead her into the pasture and we’d get to know each other. I’m not sure whether she claimed me or if I claimed her. Maybe, it was a little of both. Nevertheless, Minerva would be my mount… if Mom ever decides she’s through looking at the horses and saddles up.
Also, congrats Cor'. Love you buddy.
They say I don’t have friends, but I do. I just don’t invite them over because I don’t like the ‘wow’s’ that come with it. I was born to a poor couple in Brooklyn, not a rich one in Manhattan. Heck, I never even went to a private school until I went to live with my new dad. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great. Mom’s great. But this isn’t the life I was supposed to live, so the looks and the comments when I would show kids around the house in New York just made me really uncomfortable.
Mom sorta gets it, but Dad doesn’t. Why would he? The life he lives he was born into. It’s the only thing he knows. He’s aware that most aren’t born with what he was but until you live it, you never fully understand it. Then to go from that world to this one? It’s a change. I mean, I love my life. Being their son and big brother to T.J. and Caty? It’s fun almost everyday.
My friends always wanna know what it’s like being their son. Mostly Dad’s. He has been a popular person in New York for years. Even before I knew him. So he always creates some kind of buzz and kids are generally curious about that.
My dad is my favorite person. I hardly show it to him, but I’m grateful that there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t remind me that he loves me. Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, he shows it in so many other ways. It’s not always the lovey hugs and flowery words of encouragement that he’s known for. Sometimes, it’s the dreaded ‘D’ word. That’s right. Discipline.
I feel like I’m a pretty smart kid, but I’m still two-teen. Sometimes I do things I know I’m not supposed to. Ryan, the boy I met from next door, was here yesterday and my mind said ‘oh dads busy meeting someone new, he won’t yell too much.’
See, I’m not allowed to ride my dirt bike in the woods. Mom doesn’t like me on it at all and Dad thinks the woods are too dangerous and as he puts it, I get too ‘ballsy’. While Dad was at the fence talking to Ryan’s dad Brentwood, I showed Ryan my dirt bikes. He doesn’t know how to ride but I’ll teach him.
As soon as I’m ungrounded.
What happened was that Ryan rode with me and I went into the woods where I wasn’t supposed to be. We stopped in the woods because we found this old shack. As we were getting back on my motorcycle, we disturbed a nest of yellow jackets which I guess made them pretty mad. Ryan and I both were stung multiple times but we had to escape them. So we rode hard out of the woods right passed my Dad and Brent. Thing is, the shore is only about fifty or a hundred feet from the trees and we ended up in the ocean. Dad was… well… I’ve never seen his face that red with anger. When I say ‘yell’ when talking about him, it’s not really yelling. It’s more like faster speaking and a slightly raised voice. Yesterday, it was actual yelling. He’s never done that before.
”What the hell were you thinking!?” he yelled out as he helped me and Ryan up out of the water. ”To the house!”
”Ryan, let’s go on home,” Brent said as he led him across the lawn.
”I’m sorry Brent,” Dad said to him.
”Kids man,” Brent said as he walked away. ”They’ll be the death of us all.”
”It’s not my fault!” I tried to argue. ”We were bein’ chased by bees and…”
”Enough!” he shouted. ”First of all, you’re not allowed in the woods with your bike. Secondly…”
Then I messed up again.
”But Dad…”
”Stop talking!” he yelled. I sorta feel like if he was a different kind of person that he’d have hit me right there. ”Secondly, you put not only yourself but Ryan in danger too! Thirdly, you put your bike in the frickin’ ocean and you know salt water just ruined your frickin’ motorcycle!”
”Dad I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
”Not yet, but you will be,” Dad argued.
”What’s wrong?” Mom shouted from the porch across the lawn as we made our way toward her.
”Your son just put his bike in the drink!” Dad yelled back.
”Here we go,” I muttered under my breath.
”FRANKIE!”
”Thanks for not tellin’ her I went in the woods,” I said to my dad quietly.
”He was also in the woods with it!”
Ugggh. Betrayal.
”FRANCIS! ROBERT! DUKE!”
”Mom!”
”Don’t you ‘Mom’ me! Get your butt upstairs and rinse off,” Mom ordered.
With both of them yelling at me, Mufasa decided to belt out a roar from the porch. Mufasa! He always has my back!
”Shut up Mufasa!” Dad shouted and the lion huffed and curled up on the sun porch to go back to sleep.
”I’m surrounded by enemies,” I said with sadness. I’m still not sure today whether it was real sadness or fake.
”Boy that is where you’re wrong,” Dad said as he grabbed me by the shoulder and made me look at him. ”Everyone here loves you to death. But this is a big one. Rinse off like your mom said. When you come back down, don’t put on any clothes that you actually like.”
”What’s that mean?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he shoved me lightly, ushering me toward the house. As I walked, I heard them talking. Mom was furious. Dad was a little more laid back. Typical of them.
I took my time in the shower. Letting the water flow over me as I thought about what happened, I realized I was wrong. I knew I was wrong from the start, but I get it more now. Dad… he’s gone through a lot of things to keep me safe and while he wanted to let the reins off a little bit once we moved here, I overstepped. I don’t know what other kids feel when they’re wrong, but I feel like crap.
”Mom?” I said as I made my way down the stairs. She looked at me while changing Caty’s diaper. ”I’m really sor…”
”Frankie, I don’t wanna hear it right now,” she said coldly. ”You’re gonna want jeans.”
Looking down at myself, I only have one question. ”It’s like 85 out there. What’s wrong with shorts?”
”Your dad has a job for you,” Mom said as she patted Caty on her behind.
Talon meanwhile, walks to me with a face full of smiles and wants me to pick him up. ”Fank,” he pleads with his version of my name and his arms up to me. Naturally, I gave him what he wanted. Once I picked him up, he wrapped his arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. It’s always such a nice feeling.
”Trust me,” Mom said. ”You’re gonna want jeans.”
”I’m sorry,” I said sadly as I rubbed T.J.’s back.
”I’m sure you are baby,” Mom says as she gets up and takes Talon from me. ”But not half as sorry as you will be.
“Go change.”
”Yes ma’am,” I said quietly before making my way back upstairs.
After changing again, I went outside. My dad was drenched from the waist down as he pulled my motorcycle from the ocean with the winch on his truck. He looked in my direction just once as my bike pokes up out of the water and is dragged onto the lawn.
”I don’t want you to talk,” he said curtly as I approached.
”Yes sir,” I replied shamefully.
”In our three years together Frankie, not once have I thought you were taking advantage of the situation,” he began. ”Today you did. Today you took advantage of the fact that I was distracted with Mr. Thompson. You took advantage of the fact that your Mom was in the house with the twins. You took advantage of the fact that I trust you to make the right decisions and you failed me.
“You let me down and that hurts.”
”Dad, I…”
”It’s not time for you to talk,” he interrupted with a raised voice. ”I’m out here working my ass off to give you all the things you want. I get into arguments with your mother because she doesn’t want you on motorcycles at all and I have your back over that and this is how you repay me?
“You can forget your dirt bike track this year,” he said.
That one stings.
”Your crankcase is full of frickin’ salt water, man! It’s ruined,” he pauses. ”It’s clear to your mother and I that you don’t know the value of a dollar.”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse for any dumb thing I’ve done than I do right now.
”We got a lot of money, kid,” he continued on. ”But that doesn’t mean you just ruin every damn thing you have. That’s taking advantage of the situation. You put yourself in danger, you put Ryan in danger and you ruined a twelve thousand dollar motorcycle to boot.
“Get your ass to the stables.”
I stood there a minute. I thought about everything he said. It hurts me to know that I made him this angry at me. He tried to muscle my motorcycle into the bed of his truck and lost his grip. Naturally, I tried to help him.
”I got this Frankie!” he yelled. ”To the stables.”
”For what though?” I asked.
”Because horses shit where they stand and you’re gonna clean it up,” he said as he leaned his backside on his tailgate. ”Every stall, except Minerva.”
Minerva is one of the eight horses we bought. She’s kind of wild and not so fond of people. Her last owners left a saddle on her for the last month. Every time they tried to take the saddle off of her, she’d get angry or scared and start trying to kick them. They threw her in for free.
As I started to make my way across the lawn toward the stables, I took my shirt off. The stables always smell really bad, so I wanted to use my shirt to cover my mouth and nose.
Slam!
I turned my head back and dad has successfully thrown my bike into the bed of his truck. He spied me looking.
”Hey!” he called out as he rushed over to me. As he neared me, he took the shirt from my head. ”No way.”
”But Dad!” I protested.
”First of all you gotta get used to it,” he said as he balled up my shirt and threw it on the hood of his truck. ”And secondly, that’s part of your punishment.”
”Can I at least listen to music?” I asked.
”Go ahead,” he answered after some thought.
A few minutes later, I was in the stables. Standing in the doorway for a couple minutes, I watched as the horses chewed on some hay or drank from their water troughs. All the while, trying to get used to the stench. If you’ve never been inside a horse stable, you have no idea how rank it is. Just crap and pee smells that invade all your senses.
After putting my earbuds in, I got to work. It was really frustrating at first. As soon as I’d clean one stall and move to the next, the horse in the one I just cleaned would take another dump. Like how do they just exist to poop all the time? They don’t do anything but stand there. How do they have so much poop!?
I guess though, Dad was right. At first, the smell was so bad that I threw up like three times. But the longer I worked, the easier it got. I guess you do get used to it. Or at least, enough to not throw up every thirty seconds. Cleaning the stalls isn’t an easy job. I have a new respect for the stable hands now when they do it. It takes a while. The turds are large and heavy. On the bright side, I can feel what little muscles I have getting bigger. Maybe I won’t ever be as built up as my dad is, or even my mom for that matter. But if I did this all summer I think I’d be pretty jacked for a two-teen year old.
The last stall is Minerva. Dad specifically told me not to do that one. She isn’t very friendly, but no one knows why. Standing outside her gate, she looks at me with her huge side eye.
”Hey girl,” I said sweetly after removing my earbuds. ”Why the long face?” I chuckled to myself.
Minerva obviously doesn’t answer me, but she did let out a snort. Reaching up toward her face, she pulls away from me and whinnies. Grabbing her leads, I yanked her toward me.
”Be nice!” I scolded her. ”I’m nice too.” Weary of her past behavior, I took my free hand and slowly reached for her nose. She tried to bite me at first. It scared me so instinctively, I tapped her on the nose. In response, she shook her head, trying to free her leads from my other hand.
She spies me sorta like the ‘sus’ memes on the internet. Again, I reached toward her face. This time, she let me scratch under her chin.
”See Minerva? That’s a good girl,” I said as her fear started to subside some. Reaching up again, I petted her gently down the length of her nose. ”Why you so angry huh? Bet you want that saddle off you.”
Pausing a moment, I looked around to see if anyone could see me. They couldn’t. Obviously, I’m gonna make another bad decision. Stepping into the lone empty stall beside Minerva’s, I used my phone as a flashlight in the darkened stables. I noticed what looked like blood dripping from the rear saddle strap on her belly.
”Aww,” I said aloud. ”I bet they put it on too tight and pinched you huh?” I asked as I reached through into her stable. As soon as I grabbed a hold of the strap, Minerva was ready to fight. She stepped sideways and tried to kick me. ”AHHH!” I screamed. Thankfully, the stable is well built and she kicks the wall. That didn’t stop it from scaring the heck out of me though as I jumped back, tripped over the pitchfork and landed in a water trough.
”Frankie!?” Dad called out as he ran inside.
”Over here,” I called out from my place in the trough. ”Empty stall.”
”What happened? You alright?” he asked as he approached.
”I know what’s wrong with Minerva,” I said as I climbed out to my feet. ”She tried to kick me.”
”You’re not supposed to mess with her,” he chastised me.
”I know,” I answered. ”I didn’t go in, but I wanted to see what was wrong with her.”
”The vet is coming on Monday to sedate her and look at her,” Dad told me.
”She’s bleeding,” I said and dad just looked at me. ”I think they put her saddle on too tight and it cut into her.”
”Where?” he asked.
Using my phone for light again, I shined it right on the dripping blood. ”See?”
”Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. ”Go get the ropes,” he instructed.
”What are you gonna do?” I asked as I hurried to get him the ropes.
”I’m still figuring that out,” he answered as I returned.
”Tie her to the wall,” I suggested. ”Not tight enough to hurt her when she tries to fight but tight enough that she can’t kick you when she does kick.
“You can reach right through. I’ll give her some sugar cubes to distract her.”
”Alright well, don’t touch her,” he instructed me. ”She’s about to get really pissed. Grab that ointment from the cabinet first."
After handing him the tin, I wrapped her leads tight on the post while dad threw the rope around her backside.
”Sugar,” he suggested as he reached into the stall to grab the rope end.
Pulling it through, he pulled her close to the stall wall and tied it off the best he could on the other end of the empty stall. Already, she wasn’t happy as she snorted repeatedly and struggled against her bindings.
”Just hold your hand out, let her have as many cubes as she wants,” Dad said as he reached through the boards again.
He slowly and gently released the strap from the front and released the rear one from the buckle loop with her blood running all over his hand. Minerva calmed for a moment and ate more cubes. As she calmed, dad cinched the rear strap tighter, freeing it from the buckle. Almost immediately Minerva bucked, whinnied and kicked. In the process, the saddle that was stuck on her back for over a month flew from her back and landed beside her.
”Rags,” Dad instructed.
Quickly, I tossed him some.
”Why didn’t they ever call a vet for her?” I asked.
”I dunno kid. Ya can’t fix stupid.”
She was less angry now, but still upset as dad wiped her belly wound clean of blood. Every now and then he’d dip the rags in a bucket of water as he cleaned her up the best he could. Minerva still struggled against her bindings, but less and less as he cleaned her up then applied the ointment to her raw skin. Once he was finished, Minerva calmed down considerably while he let her free of her binds.
”Can I free her leads?” I asked.
”Yeah,” he answered.
After freeing her leads, she snorted at me and nodded. Reaching up, I stroked the side of her face. She seemed to enjoy that as she leaned her head lower and closer. Horses are intelligent animals. Maybe they don’t have that sixth sense that dogs do, where they can tell a good person from a bad person, but they do know when you’ve helped them, when you care for them. The result of my efforts is that I made a new animal friend. Minerva went from angry and wanting to fight everyone, to licking my entire head.
Afterward, Dad called the vet and offered him triple his going rate to come out on an emergency call. While what Dad did probably would have been fine until Monday, he didn’t want to take chances with an open wound. The vet came and sedated her as planned. I stayed with her the whole time and held her head in my lap. She was scared but powerless to fight or kick as her consciousness faded. Soon, the doctor had her wounds cleaned, stitched and pumped full of antibiotics to fight off any infections she might have contracted.
The vet advised that we didn’t saddle her for at least two weeks. My dad insisted we’d wait at least three to be safe. I knew what I was doin’. Those three weeks, I’d lead her into the pasture and we’d get to know each other. I’m not sure whether she claimed me or if I claimed her. Maybe, it was a little of both. Nevertheless, Minerva would be my mount… if Mom ever decides she’s through looking at the horses and saddles up.