"Do you have a story about you and an animal?"

When I was a young boy, not yet in my teens, I lived in Tucson. Yes, it's hot there most of the year and so you don't expect to find many animals that aren't indoor pets or outdoor wild, but a few blocks over, beside a dry riverbed, was a horse stable with horses to rent. I love animals and became excited, so I saved up some money somehow and finally I went there to rent one for myself.

Well, I walked right up to the older man that seemed to be in charge. He had just rent two horses and he shouted helpful advice as the slowly trotted off. Then he turned to me. "And what do you want young man," he says. "How much to rent one for an hour" I replied. "Well, have you ever rode before" says he. "Yes, many times" I lied. "For you, only $8.00, and I have just the one for you too."

He quickly saddled and brought foreword a magnificent horse that was twice my height and black as night, and called him "Black Joe." I handed over my money, (some in change), and he then helped me to mount up. I felt like a king as I held the reins in my hands, he lightly patted the horses backside and exclaimed "have a good ride."

Black Joe began to slowly walk of the stable grounds, got about twenty feet, and then turned back to the stable-master. I tried to stop him, but I didn't know what to do. I tapped one side of his neck with the reins, and held tight with my legs, but to no avail.

The stable-master just smiled real big, gently grasped the reins beneath the horses chin, and said "You've never ridden before, have you?" It was more of a statement than a question. He asked me if I'd come down for a moment, and then helped me off. He handed me my money and said "here, this is yours." After I stuffed it back into my pocket I was afraid of what he would say next.

He gently placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "It took a lot of courage to do that, so I'll tell what I'm gonna do. If you'll come help clean the stables and brush down the horses at least once a week, then I'll teach you to ride, ok?" My smile could not have been wider as nodded my head and shook his hand.

As I walked back home I knew my mother probably wouldn't like it. Too dangerous. So I decided not to tell her. I worked hard for three months and learned the basics of how not-to-fall-off a horse.

I liked riding Black Joe because along the riverbed he was fast, but he did have one fault. When there was water in the riverbed and if you let him drink while you're still on his back, he had a habit of tossing his rider into the water and then laughing at you. Luckily I was warned early so I never gave him his head while mounted.

Sometimes I rode him too hard, his hair glistening wet in the sunlight, and the stable-master would hand me a brush to use after I walked him for half an hour to cool him down. It was always worth it!

~Dondi J. Singingbear

There were lots of animals, small ones, when I was growing up. We had a bit of acreage and raised our own vegetables, chickens for the eggs, ducks and turkeys. There was never, that I can remember, an animal that was mine. Although there were a great number of these ‘family’ owned animals that were in my care.

My cousin, Richard was from the city and I was the country cousin. He would often visit and spent many summers with us. These times were bitter sweet for me. We had lots of fun together, we were more like siblings in many respects. He was 2 years older so was much wiser and stronger. But these visits were tarnished by my having to recount how I had let his pets die....     For every Holiday Richard would receive a little pet. A baby duck or rabbit or chicken or such. He would love and care for these pets until they reached an elder state in their lives. At that point, because Richard's mother could not face death of any kind, they, these precious pets of my dear cousin were brought to our "Ranch" for me to care for.

All my love and caring was never enough for Richard's pets, no matter how hard I tried they all seemed to die for no reason. Then I would try to explain to my cousin how I allowed his pets that were put in my care to die. It was torture. The one who stands out the most was ‘Knewee Knewee’ the rabbit. I loved Knewee Knewee. So named by Richard because his nose moved in a Knewee Knewee sort of way that made perfect sense to us. I visited Knewee Knewee lots of times at Richard's and had long talks with him. He was a great rabbit. He was huge, the biggest white rabbit I had ever seen and way too heavy for either of us to pick up and hold. We were sure he was a magic rabbit. I was confident that Knewee Knewee would never be placed in my care because he was with Richard for longer than any of his other pets. Wrong. The day came. Knewee Knewee arrived at the ranch with Richard trying very hard not to cry.

He had only been there a week when he escaped. He was not there when I went to feed him in the morning. I was devastated. I searched all day for my ward. When my father got home I tried to enlist his help in the search. He had seen Knewee Knewee that morning he said. And Knewee Knewee wanted to dig in the earth like rabbits are supposed to do, he said. But when Knewee Knewee started to dig he couldn't stop, he dug so fast that he buried himself, he said. And NOW, he said, Knewee Knewee was in China having a very good time, he said. He even showed me the mound of dirt where this unusual story took place. It was too much for me to grasp, I had failed Richard once again.

The day came soon that I must tell Richard about wonderful Knewee Knewee. But that day nine year old Richard put his arm around his little cousin and told her the truth. He explained all about pet heaven and how wonderful it was and that I would never have to care for any of his old pets ever again.

~ Gin