1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE: PET, THE ANTI-PET

Pet was a strange name for a horse that acted like this one did. Her friend and pasturemate was more aptly named Lady, and always acted like one.

Jan and I were on our knees, noses against the screened windows on the backporch, a small room leading to the backyard. It wasn't really a porch, at least not now. I guess at one time it had been, so we still called it that, even though the washer and dryer we were wedged against bore mute testimony to the room's true purpose.

A door stood in the center of each of the four walls, effectively taking up most of the space. One door led straight out into the backyard, where the one-man rodeo was taking place. The second door, just opposite the back door, led to our parent's bedroom, where Mother was sorting something in the closet, where she seemed to spend most of her spare time these days.

On the two opposing walls, the kitchen door opened on the west wall and the bathroom door on the east.

Between the bathroom door and the door to our parent's room was the "stairwell". It led up to the den of horrors that was our brothers' room. The phone was up there, about four steps up to the landing, hanging on the wall.

We were allowed to answer the phone without permission, but we were not supposed to enter our brothers' bedroom without it. Sometimes Jan and I would sneak up there and play for a while before Mother missed us.

If we were lucky, we heard her calling, crept cat-like down the stairs, and emerged from some different part of the house as though we had been playing in a closet or outside.

Days that we managed to fool her usually were ruined when Elton or Stephen, our teenage brothers came home from school, went up to their room, and came running down, mad, yelling: "the little girls have been up here today; the dust is moved on the desk."

Mother told me a few minutes before the action started outside not to let Jan run out there for any reason, because she was only three. Since I was in first grade, she knew I had learned how to obey rules, at least part of the time.

We didn't want to miss any of the excitement, and it felt thrilling, but dangerous to watch Daddy and one of the gin hands, Mr. Adams, try to load Pet into the trailer. We were just 20 feet away, but protected by the strong wood frame of our house, we felt invulnerable.

Pet was a beautiful red color, a sorrel, Neila had told me, with a little bit of white marking on her nose and face. She was really prettier than Lady, who was more squatty in build, an unremarkable dark brown color, and not nearly as striking.

Pet didn't look like any horse we had ever had except for having four feet and a long nose and mane. She looked regal, but her personality wasn't pleasing, at least to my dad.

Her long graceful legs constantly moved, and she skittered rather than walked. She was highstrung and nervous, and since no one in our family was like that, she didn't really have an ally who could understand her behavior.

We had only had her a year, and it hadn't worked out too well. Daddy had bought her with the idea that Neila, who was 16 and loved horses, would ride her. She was hard to handle and "too much horse" my mother said, for a teenager. Buying her didn't end up providing us a second horse to ride along with Lady.

The previous owners told us her name, but when pressed didn't seem to know who named her. Having seen her behavior this past year, Daddy told Mother he "figured it was a joke, naming her that. Maybe they didn't want to tell me her real name- Wild Thing," he said a little bitterly.

He thought she'd grow out of some of her anxiety, but she didn't. He had been proud that she was at least part thoroughbred, but I think his pride had leaked out like air from of a damaged balloon, and now all that was left was his flattened ego. That horse was more than a match for him, and she had broken him, not the other way around, I'd heard my mother tell him one night just before he decided to sell her.

He had sold her to someone, but now he was trying to persuade her to get in the trailer so he could deliver her to the next lucky family. I hoped they didn't have any kids, or if they did that the kids were tougher than we were.

Neila tried a few times to ride her, but Pet liked to rear up, so it was just too risky. One day Neila had come in and said Pet reared up while she was trying to bridle her, fell backwards, and "the crazy thing knocked herself out."

Daddy tried to lead her into the red horse trailer. She wanted nothing to do with it. He took one step into the trailer, and tried to persuade her to follow him. She looked like she might, then at the last minute, she ran backwards, the whites of her eyes showing her terror.

He had already tried putting Lady in the trailer and persuading Pet to walk in and stand next to her friend. That had failed, and Lady had to patiently back out of the trailer, Neila holding her reins and speaking softly to her as she walked backwards, stepping down to the ground, feeling for it with her back legs, her large body following.

Daddy gave Pet a few minutes to calm down, then tried again. He moved to the side of the trailer and put the reins through the cracks between the trailer slats and pulled gently. She walked up three or four steps, stopped, then he gave a little jerk. She moved one step forward and he pulled harder on the reins trying to coax her to make the step up into the trailer.

That triggered it! She reared up, hitting her head on the top of the inside of the trailer, making a loud noise against the metal. That seemed to send her into orbit, and she started running backwards with our dad losing the reins as they whipped out of his hands, the leather appearing to burn his palms, judging by the way he let go of them.

As she moved backwards, her motions frantic, her back legs buckled, and she actually fell down on her right side and rolled a little, like a big egg with legs attached.

Then she scrambled up on all fours, Daddy grabbed the reins, trying to control her, but instead caused her to rear up again, high this time, until he had to let go of the reins and move backward to get out of her way.

My hands were squeezed tightly into fists now, and when I looked at Jan, her eyes were big and she was biting her bottom lip. We were utterly silent. Mother would later refer to it as "mesmerized". I thought it seemed more like "terrified".

When she landed again on her front feet, she took off running as fast as she could down the driveway. I had seen the whites in her eyes, and I first thought she was just mean; now I realized she was afraid.

"I wonder if she's afraid of change, like me," I thought. Maybe she had a kindred spirit in our family after all, but I hadn't realized it soon enough.

Lady stood patiently, Neila holding her reins, and watched Pet's antics with detached observation, her calm brown eyes telling us she would never act like that.

My dad's face was red, and he was mad, I could tell. He started walking to the front of the house to see where Pet was.

Jan and I instantly decided to run to the front of the house to see where she went. We tore through our parents' bedroom, past Mother sorting clothes in the closet, then through Neila's bedroom and into the livingroom, where we had a good view of the front yard. We jumped up on the couch, got in position on our knees, and scanned the front, looking for the errant horse.

At first we didn't see her, but we saw Daddy coming around the corner of the house from the east. Then we spotted Pet, standing eating the St. Augustine grass on the west side of the house, under the shade of the huge postoak tree. She looked calm as could be.

Just then Daddy rounded the second corner, and she saw him. She started off again in a trot, running back toward the backyard where she had come from, but moving along the other side of the house, her reins dragging the ground.

Daddy's face was redder than it was a few minutes ago, and he didn't look happy. He called something to Pet, but we couldn't tell what he said. Pet must have heard him though, because she speeded up. He was behind her, but she was putting distance between them.

We stood up, sailed off the couch, and started running toward the back of the house, our route this time taking us on the opposite side of the house, through our bedroom and the kitchen before we arrived back at our original spot on the backporch. We followed the action through the large windows in each room, so we were able to see Pet running, Daddy following her, until our view was blocked by the big metal cistern standing on its platform near the kitchen window.

Even Susan, who was sitting on her bed in our shared bedroom reading her geography book,got interested.

"What's happening?" she asked as we ran past.

"Look out the window!" I shouted. "Daddy's trying to catch Pet!"

"Pet's funny", Jan squealed. "Daddy's mad", she laughed as we streaked by, our eyes focused on the bank of windows on the east wall.


Back at our original seats, we observed Mr. Adams, who worked at the gin, move to try to catch the reins. Pet did a little maneuver and avoided him, then trotted over to Lady and stood right next to her. Neila leaned over and gently took her reins. Pet stood munching grass and laughing at the two men.

Sweat was dripping off Daddy's face, and his shirt looked like it had been run through the washing machine. He came around the cistern beside the house, took one look at Pet and just walked over and slammed the door to the trailer, sliding the bolt over to lock it. He motioned with his head at Mr. Adams.

"Let's go, Harold. No more to do here today." He looked toward Neila, standing quietly with the placid horses. "Let her go in the pasture, honey. We'll decide what to do about her later."

Mr. Adams climbed silently into the pickup. Daddy climbed heavily into the driver's side, turned the key, and pulled out of the driveway, the trailer squeaking along behind him, like a bad reminder.

Neila led the two horses easily toward the pasture gate, swung it open and stepped inside. First, she pulled the bridle over Lady's ears and pulled it off, taking the bits out of her mouth, dropping the harness momentarily to the ground as she turned her attention to Pet.

Pet did not resist as she took off the bridle. As soon as she was free, though, she took off running toward the larger pasture farther south of the house. Then I let Jan run outside, and I followed, to watch Pet running like a posse was chasing her, kicking up her back legs every few yards, and twisting the back half of her powerful body with each joyful kick.
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