Cowgirl Rides with the Big Dawgs

Cowgirl is my number three beautiful gorgeous goddess. She is not my only animal lover, but she is the one that is pretty much fearless around animals. People tend to freak her out, yet any animal is an instant connection for her.

Cowgirl is my one and only horse show kid. Every spring, we load up her horse in our tiny trailer and drag it behind our ’94 Chevy Suburban along with saddles, tack, washing gear and more, and head to the shows in nearby communities. She and I play horse beauty shop until her baby looks as near perfect as we can get him, then she leads or rides him into the arena in front of judges and stopwatches.

Cowgirl isn’t much of a fan of being judged. She doesn’t have a whole lotta use for the shows. It sorta stresses her perfectionistic, competitive spirit beyond its elasticity limits.

And darn it, that girl can get cranky when she and her horse don’t do well.

She’d rather be riding with the wind, hair flying out behind her, running free across the pasture. Or maybe circling a few barrels. She’s okay with that, too.

Cowgirl’s uncle is the one I blame for this bleeding hole in my pocket book. He recognized something in this kid when she was younger and pretty much told me she needed to be on a horse. I think he was just jealous that he didn’t have a Cowgirl princess of his own (he’s an all-boy dad) to dress up and parade around the arena, so he just “borrowed” one of mine.

Cowgirl has decided she believes she’d enjoy actually WORKING cattle with her horse. He is, after all, a well-trained roping horse. I put a bug in Uncle Cowboy’s ear and we sat back to wait for opportunity to jump up and bite us.

The call finally came.

Uncle Cowboy called us this week to ask if Cowgirl had plans for this Saturday (today). With nothing major on the agenda (well, there was this Big 5 banquet and swimming to attend, but that got trumped), he invited Cowgirl to help them work a few cattle. Apparently they thought they would be somewhat short-handed, and when desperation kicks in, almost any “body” with a little bit of horse sense is better than no “body”.

Cowgirl washed her mud-dog horse last night so he’d be clean and fresh for the job. This morning she got up early and put on her layers of hoodies and t-shirts to brave the cool morning breeze. We headed to the farm and I watched from the distance as Cowgirl did her thing. She fed, saddled, grabbed the necessary tack, then waited for her ride.

Sounds like it could be a long day. I can hardly wait to hear the tales of her adventures.

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