Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

Shadow

By T. C. Wadsworth

It started to snow outside, and hoping for a bit of diversion from the

typical Minnesota winter weather, we decided to go to a horse sale in town.

We

watched with interest as the fancy horses with shiny coats came parading in.

Some had glitter on their hips or festive red and green ribbons in their

manes

because it was just before Christmas. There were horses of all colors,

shapes

and sizes, and everyone was in a bidding frenzy.

Lots of people were going to get expensive horses for Christmas it

seemed.

Some of the animals had experience working cows and some had experience in

the

show ring. Others could earn their keep by pulling a sleigh. Eager to own

the

finest prospects, a number of people in the crowd were bidding hundreds and

even

thousands of dollars.

" Here's a four-year-old sorrel mare, 15.3-hands high, with forty-two

halter

points, " the auctioneer bellowed. " Her bloodlines include Sonny Dee Bar,

Tender

Six and Zanzabar Joe. Do I hear five thousand, five thousand one, five

two? "

I was fascinated by the spectacle. Every magnificent horse that came

through had a story and bloodline that the auctioneer read. The crowd would

" ooh " and " aah " in response and then the bidding war would begin. A couple

over

here, then a man over there and a lady in front of me all bid on the same

horse,

until he was " going, going, gone! " Then the next horse entered and the

process

started all over again, taking at most, ten to fifteen minutes per horse.

Fifty

to sixty horses were sold that day.

Eventually, they got to the last one, a skinny little black pony. The

crowd roared with laughter. The pony was led in by a fifteen-year-old boy,

who

sat on her and then jumped up and down on her back, proclaiming, " She's

broke to

ride. " She had big brown eyes under a long forelock that was full of dried

manure and weed seeds.

" She's going to take some time to clean up, " the auctioneer stated.

" And

she needs a few groceries to fatten her up. "

Then, looking around, he asked, " Anybody know the story on this one? "

One of the helpers whispered something into his ear and he announced,

" The

owner forgot about this one out in the pasture and now he wants to get rid

of

her. She is not registered. There's no pedigree that we know of. Okay,

who

will give me three hundred for the old mare? "

The crowd was still laughing.

" How about two? Okay, one! Will anybody give me fifty bucks for her? "

The crowd continued to snicker at the lonely, forgotten little pony.

" Okay, get her out of here! " he told the boy who led her in.

So she turned her head as if to say good-bye then hung her head and

walked

out. The boy put her back in her stall and proceeded to help the new owners

with their horses. One by one, the horses clip-clopped by her stall to meet

their new families. The lonely little black mare just hung her head.

Every time a person walked by, her ears would perk up and she would

raise

her head in anticipation that maybe, just maybe, someone wanted her. But

then

there would be only more snickers and the sound of fading footsteps.

Finally,

she would drop her head. The pony turned around so she didn't have to watch

the

other horses parade by.

It broke our hearts to watch this. We just looked at each other and

nodded. Randy went one way and I went the other. We found the auctioneer

and

said, " Will you take ten dollars? "

He looked at us, puzzled, " For what? " he asked.

" The little black mare, " we said excitedly.

" SOLD! " he said with a shake of his head and a smirk.

Without access to a proper horse trailer, we loaded her into the bed of

my

Toyota pickup, and to a chorus of titters and guffaws, headed for home.

For the last two years of her life, Shadow had the neighborhood kids

begging to ride her, brush her or just be by her side, dreaming of the

adventures tomorrow would bring for the both of them. We laugh when we

remember

the faces of those folks at the auction and the sight of the dirty old pony

in

the bed of our pickup. But the joy and the laughter we had sharing life

with

Shadow far exceeded the laughter at the sale barn that night.