American Mustang

The American Mustang

MyFella and his Dad own about 4 horses, and one of them is an American Mustang, adopted through the Bureau of Land Management’s Mustang adoption program.

It seems keenly patriotic to me to have one of these horses. Theirs, named after a sweet syrup, sired the horse that I normally ride. The stallion is large and impressive. The female I learn to ride on is slightly smaller in frame than her sire. But an impressive size to me.

His family has had a rule about owning horses: if you own one, then you are obligated to assist in "hauling hay" for the yearly purchase of hay. Up until recently, it involved going to a cousin's acreage, and assisting him in baling his hay to sell to the public. In exchange, the family got all they needed for their horses.

I write this to the point that I have argued, having hauled hay twice without owning a horse, that I was entitled to own a horse. And the one I want to own, hypothetically, is a Mustang received through the adoption program. I know, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking of Spock's statement to Stonn, "Having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true." And yet, I want an American Mustang. And more properly, I want one adopted through the program, so I know I'm doing my part to save the American breed. (Never mind they are wild, you have to break them, work with them daily, feed them, and all that other stuff.)

My arguments have been met with slight amusement by MyFella, who knows I do not live with him, and hence the task of breaking it will fall on . . . not me. And at some point we will have to pay cash money to a local trainer to break the horse for riding. So much like a child who wants a new puppy, I've been constantly told no. And honestly, probably rightfully so.

But recently, he sent me a link to an adoption date in the Fall in a state and town very near our homes. He said we can drive over on Friday and look at the horses, and if we see one we want, we can go back on Saturday with a horse trailer and bid on it in the adoption auction. Maybe we would win, maybe we wouldn't. But we have to plan in advance by submitting an application for approval, and by having a training pen that meets their specifications. He said this weekend he is going to start work on repairing their pen.

I love that man. Not because he's willing to indulge me in this, but it's a nice perk. I love him. Period.

Some day soon, I may be a horse owner. I just heard all the sequins fall off my favorite Drag gown in protest.