If You Ask Me - Betty White [20]
BUTTERSCOTCH
Let me share another animal-related episode that I revisit in my mind from time to time, like a mental DVD.
BraveHearts Therapeutic Riding & Educational Center is a fine therapeutic riding school in Chicago dedicated to giving disabled children a new perspective, and I was invited to host their annual fund-raiser. I was familiar with BraveHearts because the former chairman of Morris Animal Foundation, Dan Marsh, and his wife, Dayle, are on the board. A few years earlier, they had enlisted my help on behalf of a beautiful young horse named Butterscotch who had terribly crippled hooves—a result of flounder, followed by a bad case of pneumonia. There wasn’t money for the necessary medical procedures at the time, but Dan and Dayle made such a case for him, I couldn’t resist getting involved. I underwrote the surgery and he made a complete recovery. When the invitation came to host the benefit, my first thought was I’ll get to meet Butterscotch!! and off I went.
I arrived in Chicago the day of the fund-raiser and that afternoon was taken to the ranch for a tour of the school.
Riding therapy enables children who have spent time looking up from a hospital bed to get an entirely different view of the world, looking down from the back of a horse. They are led around a corral by a young person walking alongside. Instead of boring exercises in a bleak hospital environment, they receive the same benefits in an exciting and stimulating setting.
As the tour ended, I headed straight for the stables to find my friend, Butterscotch. They had warned me that he had a tendency to nip, but when I walked up to his stall he put that velvet nose in my hands and seemed to appreciate the kisses.
I met his trainer, Tom Chambers, who invited me to see a program he had put together, “with your pony, Butterscotch.”
I followed Tom out to a large corral in the back. I was told, “Just stand still in the middle of the corral and follow my instructions.” He then signaled for the other trainers to bring in Butterscotch. The red horse, however, had his own ideas and it took four burly men to finally manage to push him into the corral. He galloped at full tilt around and around inside the corral fence—with me turning to watch him, Tom standing beside me.
“Now,” Tom said, “put out your hand.”
I did so, palm down.
“No, palm up, for friendship.”
When I turned my hand over, the horse immediately checked his pace to a walk.
“Point to him.”
As I pointed, the pony stopped completely, his sides heaving.
Tom continued. “All right, now go over and pat his neck.”
It was a little intimidating, but I had to trust Tom.
As I patted the heavily breathing horse, Tom said, “Turn and walk out of the corral, and take Butterscotch home.”
I walked away and couldn’t believe it as Butterscotch followed me, his head almost on my shoulder—all the way back to his stall!
Believe me, I’m not trying to sound like some sort of horse whisperer. I rode my first horse when I was too young to straddle, during those camping trips to the High Sierras with my parents. My horse, Queenie, was big and broad and gentle—and she wanted to eat absolutely everything along the trail. I wasn’t big or strong enough to control her. The guide had to come and tell her, “Queenie, that’s enough!” And shoo her along. So horse-whispering was not my forte.
With Butterscotch, Tom was doing all the work, but it was Butterscotch who was making the choices. I learned later that during the whole exercise, Tom was trying to figure out how he was going to transfer Butterscotch’s attention from himself, since he’d done all the training, over to me.
This lovely horse must have said, “I can handle it—leave it to me.”
Recently, I received a beautiful crystal paperweight engraved with Butterscotch’s image. My heart broke when I read the note, which told me that Butterscotch had galloped on.
Godspeed, dear boy.
PHOTOGRAPH BY ALLEN BOURGEOIS
KOKO
Friends are always considered a blessing, but, on occasion, there may be those who are just a little extra-special in their own way.
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