I must be getting old. Seriously old … or something. Here’s another memory. This one isn’t nearly as long or as involved. I haven’t thought about this in the longest time.

When I was a little girl I wanted a horse. Not in the general sense, like most little girls, I mean like every cell in my body cried out for a horse. It was my every waking desire. I read every book I could get my hands on about horses and then I read them again. I read about training, grooming, caring for them. I read about horses saving girls lives and girls saving horses lives. I read about blood lines of major breeds. I read about cowboys. I went on to read about Indians. I was literally dying to have a horse of my own. So that I could do all those things that I read about.

So my parents got me a donkey.

Doesn’t that seem reasonable to you? Your daughter wants a horse. Get a donkey. They’re sort of a like. Kinda.

Sorta.

NOT.

But that didn’t stop me. Oh … no. I was going to ride this donkey. His name (by the way) was Jonah. The fact that he was not bridle broken did not stop me in the least. That meant that he wouldn’t wear a bridle. The fact that my mother didn’t have time to break him didn’t stop me either. The fact that I wasn’t big enough to put the saddle on him by myself didn’t even begin to slow me down. I think I was about 9 at the time. LightBoy’s age as it were.

He was kind of a plump little donkey. I would go out to the pasture (his domain-my first mistake), with two lead ropes. I would attach the two lead ropes to the proper place on his halter, thinking that this would give me some modicum of control over him (my second and fatal mistake). Then I would attempt to clamber up on his back. Usually he would just keep sidestepping until I got frustrated and bored (which wasn’t too long). And then I would take the lead ropes and go do something else (like find roly-poly bugs for my little brother). But once in a while, I would actually make it up onto his back. Then his ears would twitch and he would begin to hop up and down stiff-legged. It usually only took about two or three hops and I would be back on the ground.

Remember tho, I’d been reading cowboy books and Indian books … so I knew how to squeeze with my knees. He was plump, but I kept squeezing. I was determined I was going to break this donkey with a halter rope and write a book about it. It would be a real tear jerker. There were tears alright. It all came to a bitter end the day Jonah bucked me off (and it took a good number of hops by this time) and I landed face first in a pile of dry manure. I was done after that.