Because he had eaten every possible scrap of
grass'that could be found in his own pasture, I
asked if I could temporarily put Dollar, that faithful
four legged hayburner, into a neighboring pasture
temporarily. There he would have plenty to eat
and while he wouldn't get any gram, I thought he
would survive on the lush grass available.
Because the pasture is so big and a lot of my
time-recently has been spent running around at
local fairs, I would only catch glimpses of Dollar in
the distance every day I would check him. But I
could always tell he was all right because his head
would be down, and he’d be-chomping away. As
long as Dollar is eating, one does not have to worry
about him.
But last Saturday, 1 decided it was time for a
closer look, so off I trundled down through the
pasture, past the pond, and through the briars. No
sign of Dollar. On I tramped over the hill, passing
-the big tree, and jumping over,the ditch. Still no
sign of that big sorrel beast.
So then it was back up to the other end of the L
shaped enclosed field, splashing through the
creek, and dodging low hanging branches. By this
time my jeans were covered with briars and burrs,
and I wondered whether that horse really needed
checking at all. (In my heart, I was sure he was
hiding in the bushes somewhere, watching me
thrash around the weeds, calling him.)
No sign of Dollar. Somehow the day did not seem
quite as fresh or beautiful as 1 turned and headed
Lancaster Farming, Saturday, October 7,1978
back down towards the other fencelme. And the
pasture seemed bigger by far.
“All right, you sneaky mule," I called out ten
minutes later. “I see you hiding in those trees.
Come out here right now before I come and get ,
you.”
Slowly and reluctantly, Dollar moved from his
hiding place, head low and feet shuffling. Caught
in the act of trying to blend in with the scenery, he
looked as guilty as the time I found him in the corn
crib at home.
But as he walked towards me, it was my mouth
that opened in disbelief and shock.
This red-colored overgrown mountain couldn't
be Dollar, my show horse. This wasn’t my sleek
sided, slightly-prone-to-eating-too-much steed,
that was so dear to my heart. This, why, this
thing...
There’s no other way to put it-Dollar was the
fattest horse I’ve ever seen standing on four legs.
That is why he has now been yanked out of his
heavenly pasture and put on a strict diet with
plenty of exercise added in the bargain. And
although he doesn’t like the arrangement much,
he better get used to it. I don’t like owning an
overgrown sorrel creampuff. Somewhere un
derneath that haybelly there is a Dollar waitinglo
be found.
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