THE
PERFECT ONE
Beckie
Jo Petterson
What
a winter it has been-
We
eat, sleep, and eat again.
Our
life of “retirement” may seem like a breeze
But
in the summer it’s amazing what a therapy horse sees.
As
the riders arrive one by one at the farm
We’re
led away from our feed and away from the barn.
For
the next hour it is our job and our job is tough
The
safety of the rider is not good enough.
I
know I can’t spook, or shy or dart off,
I
cannot kick or bit or stomp a fly.
My
riders are not able to move fast enough
So
I stand patiently and pretend that my skin is tough.
Some
riders are in wheelchairs and the mounting time is long
But
I stand quietly with all that is going on.
Other
riders hug me or squeal with delight,
And
still others give me pats that simply are not light.
I
love my job as a therapy horse
But
I must always be perfect
And
the number of people I work with each week
Is
more that most horses ever meet.
Regardless
of my mood each day
I
must like everyone-that is my job.
No
matter how frustrated I may get,
I
love everyone-that is my disposition.
The
volunteers rely on me to know just what to do,
The
instructor depends on me to do my job perfectly, too,
The
riders lean on me to be their legs or crutch, or eyes
But
mostly it is my job to never be surprised!
I
love my job as a therapy horse, but an easy one it is not
For
I must be perfect at my job each day
Because
one mistake from me and…
A
rider or volunteer may pay.
I
want to thank all people involved for this life of retirement I know
Because
working all day and being the perfect one,
Is
not just my job, it’s my love
AND
ITS FUN!