by Connie Foss
Bubba and the
Chocolate Farm
Book Three: Heartfelt Horses...Where Love Is Enough
By Connie Raun Foss
Art by Brittany Sharp
Bubba and the Chocolate Farm
Book Three: Heartfelt Horses...Where Love Is Enough
Copyright © 2016 Connie Raun Foss
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
For assistance:
Book design and formatting: Foghara Advertising, www.foghara.com, [email protected]
Cover art and illustrations by Brittany Sharp
Connie Raun Foss
Foss Books | Connie’s Kids’ Books
Prescott,Arizona
www.ConniesKidsBooks.com
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the Connolly Family for their valuable opinions and editing expertise.
As always, I am eternally grateful to my combination technical advisors/equine veterinarians - an unbeatable team: My brother, Dr.Alan R. Raun,
and my son, Dr. Robert R. Foss.
Chapter One:
Brett
It’s a beautiful morning!
I love mornings,feeling the stable waking up,tasting the muskiness of the oats as I crunch my breakfast, hearing the birds beginning their morning serenade. What’s not to love?
The crying from the tack room shatters the air, and the peace of the morning crumbles.“It can’t be true. It just can’t be!”
“It’s okay, Meg, I know it hurts, but we have to believe that
I’ve noticed that Meg and Bill have not been themselves for quite a while. There’s been a kind of fog hanging over them, darkening their days. It has affected all of us, putting the whole stable in a depression. There’s no joy, even when Meg puts my saddle and bridle on me so we can go over the jumps.Whatever this overwhelming challenge is, it must have reached a critical level.
The other day, Percy, the Miniature Horse stalled next to me, said, “What gives with Meg and Bill? They’re no fun any more. Maybe if they’d complain a bit, they’d feel better.”
Hmm. So that’s why Percy is the all-time best complainer. He thinks it makes him feel better. I’d argue with that, if he would care to argue. He probably wouldn’t but would just get into a snit and go pout in the corner of his stall. Don’t you think it’s just the opposite? When you act happy, pretty soon you are happy? However, there’s no convincing Percy. He has to go through his complaint list everyday.
Good old Tom, up on the tail-board in my stall, listening while
powerful bad, for they don’t even talk about it.” Tom stops to pick a rat morsel out of his teeth, using a hind toenail. “I remember years ago when Bill was called back into the Army, he and Meg did lots of talking about that, and how they would handle things. I guess that about proves it. Sure as shootin’, this must be a biggee.”
Though not as spry as he used to be when he’d be a black streak of a cat zooming in on a rat,Tom has been keeping the rat population under control at The Chocolate Farm for a long time. I was gone the years Bill was gone in the army, because Meg just couldn’t handle all of the work by herself. You might be surprised to know that I was a carriage horse during some of those years.Yes, I was. Looking back on
with my chocolate-colored body accented by a white blaze on my face and four white stockings. I could lift my knees like nobody’s business.
been ashamed of my size. You see, I am so much bigger than most of the other horses in the stable or even in the Arab shows we attend. (I get to go to those because my mom was an Arabian.) Discovering that being big is okay, sometimes even an advantage, helped me feel better about myself.
“Hiss-hoo, Bubba. I, only I, with my exceptional sleuthing ability, just ascertained what all the sadness is about. It required a concentrated amount of superior detective work, but I am now ready to impart the knowledge.Would you care to have me share it with you?” Wise Mr. O, whose all seeing Barn Owl eyes…he says they are Stable Owl eyes… see everything, hangs out in our stable. His coloring is rather plain, except for those huge circles of white feathers around his eyes. He isn’t shy in agreeing that his eyes do see everything.That makes him the busybody of the stable, full of gossip that he will stoop to share only when it suits him.
Of course, I want to know what is happening so after receiving a nod from me, Mr. O proceeds to reveal what he has uncovered. “My dear compatriots, the reason Meg has been crying on this beautiful morning is because yesterday the doctor diagnosed Brett as autistic.”
“What’s that,” asked Geoffrey, who has been listening intently. Geoffrey and Percy and I are the stallions in the breeding operation of The Chocolate Farm. Geoffrey is a calm Western Pleasure Arabian, who is often used for the therapy riding in another barn. I’m rather surprised he doesn’t already know what autism is, for he gives rides to Mickey, who is autistic.
“Don’t you know anything?” says Percy, who pretends to know everything. I think being a Miniature Horse has Percy in a defensive position. He is suffering from the same problem I had, only in the reverse. In dogs, they call it the small dog syndrome, in which a little dog acts tough to prove he’s as good as the big dogs.
“Hiss-hoo, Geoffrey,” Mr. O says, ignoring Percy,“that is what makes Mickey different. I’m sure you have observed that Mickey doesn’t talk or smile a lot and moves like a mechanical toy. My wise great grandfather once advised me that autism is an abnormality in the gray matter of the brain that makes such a person act differently.”
“You’re always trying to lord it over us, Mr. O, like you’re some big wig.You use those big words like ‘aborminaty’ or some such just to show off. I know some big words, too, but I don’t want to show off, so I don’t use them.” Percy was on a tear for sure.
“Percy, Mr. O isn’t showing off. He’s explaining what autism is. It’s a complicated thing, so big words best describe it. But let’s talk about what it means, if Brett has autism,” I suggest. “Maybe that’s why Brett just stands in the corner when he comes to the stable.” He and Robin, Lilly’s daughter, used to have a lot of fun together, like you would expect
doesn’t do anything.
“Is that why he threw himself to the ground and rolled around
screaming?” asked Geoffrey. “Remember that day? Meg was trying to
get him to walk with her to the pasture, and all of a sudden, for no
reason at all, he was on the ground screaming.”
Here comes Lilly, so it must be time to get to the work of the
day. Our visiting time is over, for she takes Geoffrey out of the stall to
groom him before his workout.When Geoffrey is brushed, he glistens
like a copper penny. I’m sure it brightens his day to feel so clean and
neat. I know I enjoy having been freshly groomed. Since Meg doesn’t
take me jumping until later in the day, I’ll have to wait. That’s okay for
that gives me time to think about Brett and what his having autism
means, not just for him and Bill and Meg, but for all of us.
CHAPTER TWO:
Me,A Therapy Horse?
“Hey, Bubba,” Bill says, as he comes into my stall a bit later.“I’m happy to tell you that you have a new job. Yes, big guy, you are going to be a therapy horse. Ne
ver thought that would happen, huh? But you are just the one for John. He’s a big guy and you are a big guy, so you’re just perfect.” With that, Bill grooms me and throws my saddle on, before we walk over to the therapy barn.
The therapy barn is new, having been built this past winter. Bruce, Mickey’s dad, and Bill and Meg are partners in the therapy part of The Chocolate Farm business. Bruce is a lawyer and has seen what being with horses has done for Mickey. So he wants to make it possible for more kids, and grownups, to have a chance to better handle whatever their problems are. I think it’s really neat that horses can help, but it never crossed my mind that I would get to do it. Here again I thought I was too big.
There’s a new girl on the staff. She’s in charge of the therapy part of The Chocolate Farm, called Heartfelt Horses. Her name is Jack, well, really Jacqueline, and she seems really nice, very gentle with both the horses and the riders. She brought her old horse, Cricket, with her. Cricket’s even older than I am, but she’s a gentle soul and obviously like family to Jack. She’s a dark chestnut, while Geoffrey is a copper-penny sorrel, I am a bay, and Percy is a pinto. Kind of fun that we each have our own look.
“Jack, here’s Bubba.You want to clue us in as to what we’re to do? John isn’t here yet, is he?”
“Good morning to you both,” Jack says, as she comes out of the job.“No, John won’t be here for a few minutes, I expect. His wife called a little while ago and said they were just leaving home.”
Jack gets right down to business and says, “What we’ll want to do with John this morning is to gradually get him into the program.
mentally,but the war left him emotionally damaged.What we are to do is
in, Bubba. By riding you, John will absorb some of your calm acceptance of life.You will give him something to look forward to. Maybe he’ll even learn to love life again. It’s a tall order, but right down your alley, Bubba.”
Jack gives me a good nose rub, and since she’s on the short side, she has to reach up a bit. Funny, I don’t think being short is a challenge for her. She proves what I learned as a carriage horse: Being smaller or larger than others is not a problem. Each has its place. For sure, I wouldn’t be over here in the therapy barn if I weren’t bigger than some.
“As for you, Bill, if you have time to help, that would be great. John might be more apt to identifying with our program if he can work with a man. Since Bubba is already saddled, we won’t have John do any grooming today, but Thursday, when he comes again, let him learn the grooming routine, too.The more he and Bubba do together, the more good he will get out of this.”
“Okay, so what do we do this morning?” Bill asks. “I really don’t know much about horse therapy. I only know what I’ve learned by helping Mickey for a couple of years.”
“Since John doesn’t have any mental or physical problems,
slower. Introduce him to Bubba; maybe tell about Bubba’s jumping history, which will help him see Bubba as an individual.You might even tell about Bubba’s need for therapy after he broke his leg. John needs to be reminded that others have had problems, which they overcame.
“Then show John how to mount a saddled horse, and talk about balance.” Jack is all focus as she talks to us, in contrast to when the twinkle in her eye takes over.
“If all goes well, after explaining about neck-reining and direct reining, Bubba can walk around the ring a few times with John in the saddle.You, Bill, will walk alongside them using a lead rope, at least for today. Have John practice mounting and dismounting. After you think unsaddling, cooling, and rubbing Bubba down.
“Each person who comes to us will have a different need.When I took therapy training, they emphasized the necessity of progressing slowly and carefully, as the patient’s capabilities and challenges are uncovered. I guess that about covers it.Any questions?”
“Nope. Sounds good,” says Bill.
As Jack starts to leave, she turns and says,“Oh, yes, Bill, make it fun for John…and for you. There is no pressure here on John or you, just a nice relaxed, pleasant experience with Bubba.”
Jack is just tucking her long brown hair under her baseball cap and turning away, when a pickup truck parks near the door and out climb a man and woman. She is short like Jack, but he requires another look, a large look. As Jack goes out to shake hands and welcome them to Heartfelt Horses, her petite size against his brawny build is like black and white. John could be a tackle in the NFL. No wonder I’m to be his mount.
“So glad you could come this morning,” Jack says, as she brings John and his wife, Jane, into the stable.“I’d like you to meet Bill. Bill and his wife Meg own The Chocolate Farm.”
After the hand shaking, Jack puts her hand on my shoulder and says,“And this is Bubba.Well, his registered name is Sir Hershey, but we only use that name when he enters jumping contests. Bubba is a very successful jumper, in spite of being a pussycat when he isn’t jumping. I
John looks like he’s ready to wheel and head for the door, but Jane puts a gentle hand on his arm, and he appears to calm down. Maybe he doesn’t like jumping and is afraid he is supposed to ride me over the jumps. He seems as skittish as a young colt.
“Come, I’d like you to meet the other horses in the stable,” Jack says, as she leads us down the aisle. “Since this is a brand new part of The Chocolate Farm, we don’t have all of our horses yet, but we have more coming in each week.We want just the best, most loving horses, so we’re picky.”
As we walk along the stall fronts, Jack says, “This beautiful black horse is Beauty.An appropriate name, don’t you think, John? He’s just a bit too short for you, though.”
John isn’t saying anything, so we move on to the next stall.“This is Betty.” Betty and I touch noses through the bars of her stall. I like Betty. She’s as soft and gentle as her nose. “She is from a family whose kids grew up riding her, but they’ve all gone off to college and jobs, so Betty wasn’t having any fun. Now that Betty is with us, she will get to help other kids enjoy riding. It’s a good deal for her and for everyone.”
As we stop to look at the horse in the next stall, John begins to laugh, a real belly-shaking laugh.Then I see what struck him as funny.As Clarence pokes his nose through the bars, asking for attention, that face demands comment. Clarence, who is supposed to have the dished face of an Arabian, has a nose like you wouldn’t believe. It’s like a Bedlington Terrier or a Roman-nosed Belgian…the dish is upside down.
Jack, too, giggles, and says,“Clarence doesn’t know how funny his nose looks. Because of it, he has never been to a horse show, but he has been loved in spite of his nose. He teaches kids that what one looks like isn’t important. It’s how one acts that matters, and that’s where Clarence shines.”
“The little guy over here is for our littlest kids. He is a Miniature Horse. His name is Napoleon. Hi, Napoleon, how are you this morning? ” Jack says, as the little guy comes over and stretches his nose up to be
than a pony. He used to pull a sulky in shows and I’ve been told he was quite the star.”
“Well, John” Jack says,“let’s go put you and Bubba to work.” It was nice to say good morning to my horse friends, but I’m more than ready to work and hope John is, too.
CHAPTER THREE:
John
When we’re back in the open area of the stable, the indoor working ring, Bill says, “I’ll tighten Bubba’s girth and he’ll be ready.” Bill
tightens it. I can feel the snugness and like it. It’s reassuring, for it’s not fun to have a saddle suddenly slip down under your belly.
That done, Jack says,“I’ll leave you in Bill’s good hands, John.You know, Bill has been a horseman for more years than I have been alive. You’ll learn a lot from him. Have fun,” and she walks quickly to her
surprised at how big the indoor arena is. Logically, it has to be, if there are going to be classes of horses and riders, all working around the ring at the same time. The sun is shining down through the many skylights and the footing i
s different than we have in our stable. It’s a ground up rubber material. Feels pretty good to my hooves.This should be a fun place to be.
“John,” Bill says, as we get started, “I really like to ride Bubba, for he is so solid.When you relax in the saddle and feel that big chest under you, it’s like sitting in a powerful Cadillac. Okay, let’s get down
let you ride him.” John is standing back a bit, so Bill has to turn slightly to keep his attention. “Have you ever noticed when you’re watching a Western movie on TV that the cowboy always mounts his horse from
left stirrup, hold the reins in your left hand on the pommel, horn,of the saddle, and push up from the ground, swing your right leg over the saddle and put your right foot in the other stirrup. I’m better at doing than telling, so let me show you.”
So we begin. John doesn’t say much, but he does occasionally ask
we walk around, he begins to relax. All in all, I would give John a good
“How did it go, Bubba? Did you and John get along okay?” Meg asks as she comes to get me.“I know it’s earlier than we usually do our jumping, Bubba, but I need to take my mind off of Brett’s problem.”
Here in the crossties, I can’t help but feel the negative vibrations coming from Meg. She is doing the usual brushing, yet it feels different. Maybe she isn’t putting as much energy into it as she usually does, and certainly there is no pleasant chatter, as she shares her day with me. I love Meg and hate to have her so sad. I know what it feels like to be sad.
like the world was crushing me, it hurt so much. But Brett is not dead. Surely Meg can handle whatever this autism brings.
It’s not yet noon, as Meg and I walk toward the outdoor jumping arena.The breeze is playing with my mane, and I love its cool whisper on my neck. Mr. O, sitting on a branch just over our heads, gives us a gentle Hiss-hoo, which makes a nice low contrast to the tenor of a robin singing from the top of another tree.
It’s early enough in the spring that Bill hasn’t needed to get the mower out, but it won’t be long before the grass turns to a spring-green color and begins it’s seasonal cry for attention.With the feathery clouds drifting in the pale blue sky, the morning is about as perfect for a jump around as I can imagine, and I relax and know that all is well.Whatever the autism diagnosis means, Meg and Bill, and all of us will handle it.
