In Defense of Misko

I was reminded yesterday of my complete and utter love of riding. Though I don't always have ample time to leave my desk in the office and catch a horse, the crisp weather and my sudden energy yesterday told me it was the day to leave it all behind and wander down to the barn.

Morning Hippotherapy classes on Wednesdays are very quiet at first - the volunteers are older, there are few of them, they wait patiently in the arena as children and adults make their way down the aisle. It makes for an eerie, silent time in the barn, only the soft murmuring of people talking to horses or each other in lowered tones break the still air. It seems sacred, especially on crisp fall days - that peaceful anticipation of a ride, whether it be for a client, a volunteer, or for me.

Misko has been my partner since 2007, when his name was Gentleman Red. As is my tendency, I gravitated toward him - a higher-energy, relatively unused therapy horse who was generally either untrusted or unliked by many of the instructors. Even now, after many classes, many volunteers and clients, and many trips up and down Minnetonka's famous hill up to the pasture, he'll probably never walk quietly in hand, completely relaxed - but he will be less likely to spook at falling raindrops into the arena, or blowing leaves in the trees.

He's not Buddy. He's not Kermit. He's not Haji or Zip. (Pictures are here, and this is a little bit of an inside reference for WCR people) He's not an easy horse to lead, nor is he easy to ride for some clients - with big, lifting strides and the occasional complete, un-negotiable halt. In defense of Misko, though, he really wants to succeed and to please. More than most horses I've been with or ridden, he just wants so badly to do it right.

We rode on the grass on this chilly morning - my riding gloves doing their fair share of insulation as well as grip on the reins. Off he went at a trot, bending and flexing around my legs and hands. Then a walk to cool down - then a canter to warm up again. Around we went on this grassy opening without gates or fences or rails - and I was amazed at his responsiveness in an unenclosed space. This, from my nervous horse-friend who used to prance, spook, and dart at the passing breeze. This, from my nervous horse-friend who used to dive back toward the herd, or perk his ears constantly toward the pasture. In defense of Misko, he's come very far.

In defense of Misko - he's beat many odds - even if he's not perfect at the role he's currently playing. In defense of Misko - I remind all of you (and myself) that none of us are, either.