Cupcake/Scared or Mad

When I came into the barn the next morning Cupcake had his head out over the stall door like everybody else. His ears were pricked forward and he didn’t disappear from view with a snarl as I brought his morning feed.

I stood and waited until he backed away from the door before I undid the latch and entered the stall. He stood against the far wall, as he had been taught, waiting for his breakfast.

His expression was quiet and patient.

I couldn’t believe it.

I put his hay in the feeder and dumped his pellets on top of it. I turned around and looked at him again. I was transfixed. Same peaceful, polite, bright eyed expression.
He finally nickered when I stood too long.

I almost jumped, but I caught myself. Cupcake didn’t need me to scare him, he needed me to move so he could eat.

I stood at the door and watched him. He would turn and give me a long, measured look periodically, but there was no tail swish of impatience, no stomp of a foot or squeal.

When I cleaned stalls he simply moved out of my way as I worked. I found myself humming the same mindless tune I hummed around my own horses. The tune I often hummed when I was completely relaxed and safe.

I pulled him from his stall as soon as Rainy pulled in the driveway. I knew she would still help me, but she was running out of patience with my Cupcake project. She wanted my focus back on her own colts.

I put the rope halter on first. Cupcake stood perfectly still with his nose stuck out high and to the side as I slipped the serreta on over it.

His jaw tensed when I tightened it, but it was the only sign his nose was sore.
I had lead ropes on both the halter and the serreta as before and made sure the serreta had plenty of slack.

Cupcake followed me out of the barn quietly. I walked steadily and I hoped confidently, but my skin crawled and the muscles on my back clenched into knots feeling him behind me. I had to fight the impulse to look behind me.

Rainy came up to the arena just as I clipped the long line to the serreta.

“Is he sick?” She asked.

“Nope, just very careful,” I said.

I played out the longe line and sent him out. He trotted to the right, carefully tossing his head up and down a few times, then settling into a cramped, stilted trot.

I asked him to stop and he slammed on the breaks before I could even tweak my finger.

“He’s a new horse!” Rainy said.

“I don’t know about that, but he’s sure smart enough not to fight with the serreta anymore.,” I told her.

I eased him down to a stop and swapped the longe line over to the halter.

Cupcake moved out and flipped his head when he realized the pressure had eased.
The serreta banged his nose and he immediately dropped back to the careful, measured steps he was taking before.

“OK, it’s time to give him a break,” I said, ”I ‘ve had about all I can take with this thing.”

I brought him down again and unbuckled the serreta. I eased it over his ears and hung the evil thing up on the fence.

Cupcake stepped out again and he lengthened with each stride as he felt the freedom of the rope halter.

I stepped in and he floated away, I stepped toward his head and he slowed.

The best part about the whole deal was his relaxed eye and the ear that swiveled to stay on me as he trotted around.

I let him trot for another ten minutes before I brought him down. His neck was sweaty and his nostrils puffed in rhythm with his heaving sides. He lifted his head into the breeze.

“He's enjoying himself,” Rainy said.

“This is probably the most exercise he’s had in months,” I said, “that didn’t involve trying to kill somebody anyway.

“It will be nice when I can turn him out,” I added.

“When do you think that’s going to happen?” Rainy asked.

I walked up to Cupcake and put my hand up on his forehead. He snorted once and raised his head not quite out of my reach. I scratched him gently, old hair and scurfy dead skin came loose in a flood. He looked at me steadily and his tight little chin began to relax.

“I’m thinking pretty soon,” I said.