I have memories of going out to Hope for Horses on the weekends and watching Dee work with Max. Then she would call me in, and would walk my unconfident self to the center of the round pen. The first exercise we worked on was backing up. Step one: stand in front of the horse, and make sure he has somewhere to go. Step two: shake the end of the rope ever so slightly, just enough to influence a change. The second the horse takes a step, the second he yields to the pressure you have presented him with, you stop. Step 3: repeat. This is how I learned. Present the horse with a pressure, and release the second you get the desired result. I was far from the perfect prodigy. I took me a very long time even to understand this, the first and most important rule (aside from maintaining safety).
One such day, as I stood outside of the round pen, Max at the end of a long lead rope, I was lost in thought. Why was I here? I wondered. I had a date with my boyfriend, Thad, at the other end of this lesson, and the sooner I escaped, the sooner I'd get to be with him. Sometimes, I realized, going out to Hope for Horses seemed more like a chore than a privilege. I had to repeat exercise after exercise, and listen to the lengthy reasoning behind the safety, technique, and practicality of each one. I got distracted very easily. Dee's demonstrations became movies that I could fleetingly watch, never fully aware of what was happening. When Dee then called me forward to recreate what she had just done, I would stand, dumbstruck, and spew forth some halfhearted response. I believe most would describe it as "expert B.S."
As I dreamt of Thad, Dee turned and walked toward my mother. I was dimly aware of a voice calling through the mist of my thoughts.
"What?"
"Walk him forward and toggle backward ever four steps," Dee repeated from several paces behind me.
"B-by myself?" I asked in a quavering voice.
"Yes, girly! You've done this many times before. You can do it!"
Hesitantly, I took a step forward. I couldn't do it. I'd been thinking about Thad for this entire lesson. I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't. I was going to make a fool of myself, I was going to look like an idiot.
Step.
Quietly, I made the "tck tck tck" sound that Max knew signaled our departure. He stepped, too.
I can't do it.
One step, two steps, three steps, four steps.
Slowly, I stopped. So did Max. I leaned back to show him that I was heading in his direction. Then, I tightened my grip on the lead rope and tentatively swung it from side to side. He took a small step backward. I followed.
Then, I leaned forward again. We took four steps. I stopped, and we went backward. It became somewhat smoother, and soon enough, we made it to the gate that led to Max's pasture.
"Now put him in the pasture," Dee said, not giving me any idea as to her evaluation of my work.
WOAH. No. No way, José. Dee had always accompanied me into the pasture. I could NOT do that alone. Wouldn't. Would not. Never. No. Nope.
"I can't! We've always done that together," I said quietly.
"You can do it! I'm right here. Just do the barn exercise."
I approached the gate.
"What if Zorro gets out?" I yelled to Dee, who was now a good sixty feet away from me.
"Don't let him," she replied simply.
I muttered a small prayer and unlatched the gate. Then, facing away from Dee, toward the entrance to Hope for Horses, I raised my left hand, the one holding the lead rope. I gave Max the clucking noise, the quite "tck tck tck" that told him to go. He moseyed on forward as I feebly waved my right hand to drive his hindquarters. Into the gate he went, turning a 240 to face me. I entered the pasture, closing the gate behind me. When the gate shut I let out my breath.
"Take off his halter!" Dee yelled.
As far as I was concerned, I would sooner cross the Sahara desert.
I removed his halter, unintentionally hitting him in the face with the lead rope as I did so.
"Sorry," I muttered several times.
"Get in and get out!" Dee was yelling. She had a slightly frantic tone. I wondered why.
"What?" I called.
"Take it off and get out!" Dee yelled, louder this time.
The notes of frenzy present in her voice set me on edge. I clumsily pulled the halter from Max's long face, turned around and left. Max was already walking away by the time I had latched the gate.
"What happened?" I asked.
"He was about to walk away on you," Dee replied. "You have to get in and get out. If he had walked off, you would have had to catch him and we wouldn't have been able to leave until we fixed it and he could stand still while you take off the halter. If you get in and get out before he walks off, you aren't letting him make any of his own decisions. You can never let a horse decide. You have to make all of the decisions."
I stood, ashamed of my misdeeds.
"But that was good, girly!" Dee said, lighthearted and all smiles once more. "Your toggling backward was excellent! And you put Max away on your own!"
I grinned. I guessed I had done pretty well, hadn't I?
And now, I could go and see Thad.
