How about a story involving a horse and a near death experience? Would that redeem me in your eyes? Yeah, I didn't think so. I press on.
So Max gets a call two weeks ago from a man at the feed store. He wants to know if Max is interested in a lame horse--a lame horse in ultimate peril. Max asks for more information. The man gives it.
The end.
Oh wait, I left out a few parts.
So the man at the feed store, (I'll call him Jeff because I am spacing out his name right now and Max isn't awake) was calling on behalf of a lady named Amy who was very worried about a horse she knew and loved. She had taken care of this horse several times in the past. The owner of this horse, I believe, was a rancher or roper who had given up on this animal.*
*I write that last sentence in a non-judgmental way. I have no doubt the man cared for this horse. Remember, the ranching way of life is a tougher game. Decisions are often made with a much more practical state of mind. If an animal cannot benefit the ranch or owner, some believe they should be put down. There are other more worthy mouths to be fed.
Amy adored this horse and was desperate to find it a new home. She called and pleaded with the owner to allow her to arrange an adoption. Max calls her some time during all that dialogue to find out some details. She called back and told Max the man would give her exactly one hour to figure it out. After that time, he planned on shooting it.
Max offered to go take a look. The man refused. He didn't want anyone coming to his place. Amy scrambled and got permission for the horse to be temporarily placed on the lot where she boards her horses. He told Amy he'd bring the horse to her, but if she wasn't there by 3 PM, the deal was off.
Amy raced to the place and pulled in at 2:58 PM. The man already had the horse unloaded. He handed him off to Amy and left.
When Max, Renee, the kids and I pulled into her place later that day, we expected to see a very gimpy ol' boy. 
Instead, we saw a handsome fourteen year old gelding with the slightest limp. By GGYR standards, the horse was just about as sound as they get. (We tend to gravitate toward the geriatric type with joint issues galore!) 
Max was really studying him to see how bad this limp actually was. 
Instead, we saw a handsome fourteen year old gelding with the slightest limp. By GGYR standards, the horse was just about as sound as they get. (We tend to gravitate toward the geriatric type with joint issues galore!) Max was really studying him to see how bad this limp actually was. Amy said the horse was named Buck. She couldn't say enough about his calm temperament and quirky personality. She had no idea how he'd do with children. If you recall, Max knows exactly what to do if someone doesn't know if a horse is safe for a child--throw OUR child on it.
He was calm and responsive and oh so pretty! Claire then got a turn just in time for the rain to start coming down. We know--no helmets again. You'd think we'd learn to bring some from the ranch on our equine outings. Luckily, no skulls were damaged.
Grant became fast friends with Amy's children. Rain does that for a friendship when you're four--especially if you live in the desert.
I want to save the pictures of his arrival at GGYR for another night. I will tell you that we had to change his name since we already have another Buck on the ranch. When I told Max I already knew the title for this post (planning ahead to when I told you all about him) Max said, "That's what I'm going to call him--Dodge." You know what, it totally fits!
More about Dodge in posts to come.
