He wasn’t really a horse. He was a Welsh pony and an ornery one. I was only six years old, my sister eight, when we looked up from outdoor play to see our dad coming down the driveway with an old pickup equipped with tall racks to haul home the pony he surprised us with. Jumping up and down with exuberance, we could hardly contain our excitement. Spike would be his name.
We lived in rural Moses Lake in the wide open spaces where oure imagination could run with the garte wide open. My sister and I had costumes and would trade off, with one of us getting to be Dale Evans and the other getting to be Roy Rogers, pretending to save the world. What we had been missing was Roy’s famous horse, Trigger, and his wonder dog, Bullet, until Spike arrived. Now we were fully able to orchestrate the needed teamwork between horse, riders, and a wire-haired terrier barking and nipping at our heels.
We spent hours a day learning the art of keeping a horse between us and the ground. We would ride double because it was too hard to take turns. We became more than Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. We built jumps with rocks and boards and did our best to convince Spike to step over them, imagining we were polished equestrian jumpers. We would shimmy up his neck and stand on his back, then slide off his backend, pretending to be circus entertainers.
In our minds, Spike could do it all. In his mind, he would, until he would not. When he decided it was time to stop with the day’s imagination, he would turn towards his corral and, with us or without us, kick into a full canter and make a straight shot for it—done for the day. He was rewarded lavishly with fresh apples and lots of hugs and snuggles.
Now, years and years later, I still smile when I see a horse. Though smaller than a real horse, Spike was larger than life to me. He was a teacher who taught me to hold on tight to my dreams. Never give up. Better yet, he taught me it is not enough to know how to ride; one must know how to fall. And it doesn’t matter how many times you fall…what matters is that you continue to be determined to get back up. Because you never really fall until you stop trying.
