A Horse Is Worth More Than Riches

Chapter Two - What's In A Name?

"So Halle, what's the gelding's name? We've owned him for a week and we still haven't decided on a name," Clancy insisted. He was very keen on naming animals. He said it gave them an identity and a personality. Our gelding certainly had turned out to have a personality. Once he got over his initial fear, he settled right in, his adoration for me anchoring the deal. He would follow me everywhere when I entered his stall or the pasture. His affection had assisted his training, too, as he would do anything for me.                                                                                                          "Hmmm, a name? Well I don't know, maybe  something to do with literature? I'm not sure, can we leave it for now?" I really didn't know. A name has to suit a horse and nothing seemed to fit him.                                                                                                                                                                                             "Okay, we'll leave it a little longer, but he needs a name, we can't call him 'the gelding' forever," Clancy remained unconvinced, but decided to let it go.                                                                                       "Thanks, Clance. I'm sorry, but nothing fits!" I pushed in my chair at the table where we had been sitting. " I'm going down to the barn to read some more, okay? It might give me some ideas," Clancy agreed and I pulled on my boots. As I followed the well-worn dirt path to the barn, I thought about my gelding. He was cheeky, but so kind and loyal. He was like a forgiving puppy, whenever I forgot to muck out his stall, he never kicked up a fuss or held a grudge like some other horses did. 

 I stomped through the huge swinging barn door, shaking off the golden and red Autumn leaves that adorned my head like a halo. The gelding's refined black head arched over the stall door, his white blaze like a slash of lightning on a dark night. I swung open his door and brushed against his warm flank as I pulled the half-door closed behind me. I sat down in a pile of straw and giggled as the gelding's soft muzzle tickled my neck. I was reading Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet', and I especially loved Mercutio,  who acted as Romeo's loyal best friend. He was a cheeky, but faithful troublemaker, in fact quite similar to my gelding.                                                                           "How about 'Mercutio'?" I asked him. "Do you like that name?" The gelding threw his head up and grinned at me, a cheeky look in his eye, just as the Shakespearean character  would. And so Mercutio he became.