3 of 14

Write now Article Tools

Taking Care of Minnie

There's a time not found on a clock or calendar. It's a moment when maturity and judgment from your adolescent makes a surprisingly unexpected appearance and you know in that moment that your teen just "gets it".

For my 15-year-old son, this moment showed itself several weeks after my husband moved out. Kodiak got hit with a typical January storm. The day started out as rain, turned to sleet and by late afternoon, became a full-blown snowstorm. Until then, our winter had actually been fairly mild, which made taking care of my little horse fairly easy. On this day as usual, she was out in her pasture, standing in her favorite spot, waiting for any kind soul to come along and offer her a treat. But as the weather worsened, I decided she needed to be moved into the shelter of her lean-to. Minnie's a Mustang, a tough little range horse that can handle the elements of Alaska, but no horse can keep warm in freezing temperatures when they're wet. She was soaked; in need of a good toweling off, her blanket and shelter.

I dug her blanket out of the storage room where it had been stowed since the previous winter. What I didn't realize was that it must have been damp when I put it away. Black mold and a horrendous musty smell permeated her only source of warmth. It was late afternoon, and I knew I had to wash and dry the thing before I could put it on her. One washing became two; and despite my liberal use of detergent and bleach, the smell still lingered, though by now, it was down to a tolerable level. Evening set in and the temperatures dropped quickly. Greg was spending a rare Saturday at home with his video games, and as her blanket finally went into the dryer, we drove down to the pasture to check on Minnie.

She was still standing in her favorite spot at the far end of the pasture. Ice balls had formed in her mane from the pounding sleet and the vapor of her breath was frozen on her whiskers. She was shivering, but refused to leave her vantage point for the shelter of her lean-to. In fact, as Greg and I approached her, she engaged in an extremely annoying game of horse-tag, taking off every time we got within a couple of feet of her.

With a handful of hay, Greg finally got close enough to drop a line around her neck and lead her back. She was shivering heavily and while I put out her hay and grain, Greg roped-off the exit of her lean-to which had no gate.

"I'm, afraid she'll get sick if we can't

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about What no one talks about: How wonderful it is to have teenagers?
We want to hear your view. Write now!