Tank flap…
Horses are herbivores…
They roam in herds,
grazing for more than twelve hours a day (fifteen to twenty hours if food is scarce),
and drinking when thirsty…
If confronted with a strange noise, smell, or sight,
the herd thunders away at great speed…
When cornered,
horses fight using their teeth and hooves…
“Fight or flight” is still the horse’s principle means of defense from danger;
therefore,
excitement,
nervousness,
confusion,
and fear can result in a horse acting defensively or trying to run from perceived threats…
— in Professional Care of the Racehorse by T.A. Landers…
If you know,
from personal experience,
what it’s like,
to be kept awake,
at night,
by the roar,
of water,
endlessly filling,
the bowl,
of your toilet,
due to the disintegration,
of the washer,
at the source,
then you’ve slept a night,
in my shoes…
And until,
the fixer-man,
in the coveralls,
shows up,
at your door,
the only solution,
to the problem,
is shut-off,
at the main…
Sometime,
before the quarter-finals,
slid,
down the drain,
for my team,
I wondered how,
to get all the noise,
about two goalies,
to stop,
and I prayed,
for an answer,
as I measured out,
cooked oats,
for an evening feed…
And I got,
what I wished for…
Kevin Bieksa,
has been quoted as saying,
something like,
I don’t know what,
I’m going to do,
tomorrow,
after the team bus,
slid to a halt,
in overtime…
In my book,
when all else fails,
and I don’t know,
what to do,
with myself,
I take a nap,
and I enjoy,
every single,
second of it…
With Spring,
just beginning,
and Summer,
up in the headlights,
I’d string up,
a hammock,
somewhere secret,
and stare up,
at the sky,
until the cows,
come home…
Within moments of,
the ramifications,
of Stoll’s shot,
sinking in,
Little Gem wrapped,
herself up,
in our story blanket,
and said,
Oh well,
now we’ll have lots of time,
to watch cooking shows,
and do all of the things,
we didn’t have time for,
last year…
Some people claim,
they don’t know how,
to nap…
I feel sorry,
for them,
and suggest they watch rabbits,
and horses,
for a little how-to,
on that afternoon,
delight…
When I make plans,
to roll over,
Jason Botchford’s baby toes,
with my Volvo,
while dining on,
spaghettini,
with mussels,
and clams,
in a white wine sauce,
Little Gem,
and Starshine say,
things like,
You can’t get violent,
with people,
just because,
they’ve got,
nothing better,
to do,
with their skill set…
That may very well,
be true…
So instead,
of kicking,
rumour mongers,
with my boots,
I’m directing energy,
at long distance calls,
to my friend Roberto,
about how,
to connect his right fist,
to the inside,
of his left elbow,
as he swings,
a classic Italian gesture,
in the general direction,
of Vancouver,
while walking south,
to wherever he wants,
for a new song…
Cat trick…
like popcorn stuck to itself,
or a string of lace rolled up tight,
or a handful of fingerling shells pasted together,
each with a tear where something,
escaped to the sea. I brought it home
out of the uncombed morning and consulted
among my books. I do not know
what to call this sharpest desire…
— in Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver
On the second day,
of the racing season,
an owner asked me,
if I could speak,
to her horse,
and ask him,
why he reared,
right out,
of the starting gate,
and ended up last,
at the wire…
I said,
I can see,
nothing more,
than he wants,
to show me,
and then I fell down,
in the feed room,
as the horse amplified,
his feeling,
of rage,
and shame,
through every cell,
of my body…
I crossed the shedrow,
to see if,
there were,
any more comments,
on the matter,
and he shrugged,
his shoulders
as if,
to say,
I don’t know WHY…
It’s JUST,
what HAPPENED…
After the delivery,
of the core message,
he turned his head,
into the corner,
of his stall,
and pointing,
a hind end,
in my general direction,
as he held the space,
for his own privacy,
the best he could,
under the given,
circumstances,
he whispered,
politely,
Now ENOUGH said…
One of the things,
I love most,
about working,
with horses,
if their economy,
of expression…
They make Coach V,
look like,
a complete,
and total,
blabbermouth…
Funny how,
once again,
people have taken,
to asking me,
What IS going on,
with YOUR Vancouver Canucks???
as if,
they were all mine…
Well the thing I know,
about athletes,
bred,
and built,
for speed,
is that one,
of two things,
can happen,
when beasts,
break free,
of the starting gate…
And when,
push comes,
to shove,
at the blue lines,
a photo finish,
will determine,
the true test,
of champions,
at the quarter mile…
Little Gem’s,
words from the weary,
are a recipe,
for winding’er down…
Mama,
I think,
it’s time,
for everyone,
to take,
a little trip,
to Relaxustan…
Medicine hat…
Just then,
the moon emerged from the clouds,
and swathed in brilliant light,
Greta returned to her chambers…
As she concealed the bottle of serum in a drawer,
her bird gave a shrill cry…
It had laid two more eggs…
“A sign!!!” she cried,
freeing the creature from its cage…
It stepped into the glow of the candles…
— in The Alchemist and the Angel by Joanne Owen
One thing,
I like to astound,
my children with,
is my dexterity,
with song…
On any given day,
we can be driving up,
or down,
Highway #1,
Commercial Drive,
or the Barnet,
and I can belt out,
anything,
from Donna Summers,
to Carly Rae Jepsen,
with the moves,
like Tina…
Their jaws drop,
as they exclaim,
How do you know,
those things???
The answer,
to such questions,
IS,
It’s from teaching elementary,
my dear Watsons…
The other evening,
as I prepared,
to support my team,
with a hot bath,
and a nap,
I woke up,
just in time,
for the post-game interviews,
after a 5-2 win,
over the Stars…
This gives new meaning,
to BEING asleep,
on the job…
A clinician,
recently said,
as he supervised,
my securement,
of a Western saddle,
on a girthy Pinto mare,
for the first time,
I can see,
you’ve got,
your own way,
of doing things…
I stayed focused,
on the task at hand,
while I wandered on,
what’s the point,
of doing anything,
at all,
if you don’t find,
your own way…
And a little later on,
as this creaky horse,
and I,
worked out,
hind quarter yields,
around a barrel,
I heard a message,
about the necessity,
to fly,
without judgement,
upon the release,
of each puck…
Whenever I’ve finished,
tacking up,
a Thoroughbred,
for a double gallop,
around the track,
his owner queries,
from the next,
stall down,
Are you kissing my horse???
When a dude,
with an attitude,
drops his head,
into your arms,
despite the blinkers,
and the ring bit,
in his mouth,
and has the grace,
to say,
Thank you,
for being here,
with his wall eye,
there’s no other option,
but to accept,
the invitation,
to climb,
into his 16+hand body,
like yesterday,
just don’t matter,
any more,
and let the trip begin,
with a kiss…
Canuck'd 