Horse Tale

There's a model horse sitting on our guest room nightstand. It's a little bigger than a shoebox but smaller than a cat carrier. She is standing on three legs with the left hoof raised in a moment of frozen glory, forever awaiting the order to march.

I bought her from a rundown mall in my hometown, at one of the many stores that open and close in the final death spasms of shopping centers. It was a gift for my wife. I think it cost ten dollars, but it's been a while so I'm not sure.

Originally she was covered in intricate leatherwork that simulated the bridle and saddle; it was the kind of material and craftmanship that only appears noteworthy when it is new and unblemished.

About a month ago I ripped off the leather. It had grown ragged on the noble beast and I felt that it should go. It was hard work- the person or machine that had attached it felt it necessary to drive half-inch tacks into the model to hold the stuff in place. I had to use my keys- and at one point my teeth- to pull them all out.

She is unbridled now, and looks much better. I hope one day to see her run free in my dreams.