We talked about it on the way home Reggie and I. I suggested we frame the whole episode as a fortunate restart. Reggie's attitude to life is pretty laid back and so unsurprisingly he replied with a soundless and resounding "yeah, whatever". Key to Reggie's discharge was me learning to clean the wound. Anyone who knows me well and the weakness of my stomach will know that challenge was bigger than learning to gallop. However needs must, I steeled my stomach and learn to clean it I did.
We are getting to know each other Reggie and I. He reminds me totally of the character John Coffey in Steven King's Green Mile. The actor is a "big man" and the character is defined by his kindness to small things and his ability to heal. I will come back to that at the end of this post - so don't forget that I said it.
Reggie is expressive. I arrived at the Yard this morning and was welcomed by a head to toe frisk. It included checking the clip I had chosen for my hair, my leggings and which bra I had put on before I left.
He loves to interact. He doesn't seem to mind whether you are equine, canine, feline or human. You are worthy of attention. As well as his head Reggie uses his legs to express himself. With limited time to eat the verges whilst he recovers he can't get the grass in quick enough and he paws the ground with frustration telling his jaws to "go go go". He's also tired of the assaults on his body and is emphatic in his insistence that we stop. When we stop the assaults he won't need to keep telling us he's had enough.
An on-line plan for bringing horses back into work starts with 20 minutes at walking pace. I am not able to get on yet and so we've been walking the block. Me on foot. We made that journey ourselves for the first time this morning. I put a bridle on -him, not myself- (forgot my high viz - sorry motorists) and we wandered beyond the gates for the second time since he was discharged. There's something weird about taking a horse for a walk in hand, it's a bit like having an oversized dog. He was head up as we left the gate. After 100 yards he gave the lead to me, fell in beside me and we wandered. Together. The bridle was precautionary. We didn't really use or need it other than when we reached slippery ally (the penultimate road home) where Reggie found a use for it. He engaged it as part of our conversation. He mouthed it. I took it out of his mouth, scratched his withers and told him he was a good boy and then he mouthed me to get more patting, more scratching, more "good boys". When I gave up patting he'd walk a bit and then grab the bridle. Repeat.
We arrived home. I decided to give him some time in the field. He rolled accompanied by a volcanic exhalation like when you undo the waistband of the trousers you used to wear two sizes down after Christmas dinner. He cantered a tiny bit and then settled to the grass he's had too little access to in the last week and a half.
I stood in the sunshine, riveted. Dotty the dog bought me stones to throw and I threw and threw and threw. I watched. I felt the sun on my face and the peace in the birdsong. I went to bring him in. Annabel reminded me (as Monty was fast asleep with Annabel on board, she had to do something) that mental health is as important as physical health. The clarity and obviousness of that insight was startling and so I left him out there, with the sun on his back and a promise from Bex to look out for him and bring him back in.
Driving home I was reflecting on the biggest part of my adult life. I spent it carelessly locked on to a hamster wheel, addicted to work under the illusion that my status defined me. Work owned me. I sold my soul to the organisational devil, actually heart and soul.
Today I felt so free from that and so connected to life and what matters most. I realised that Reggie had and has a very clear rehabilitation plan for me. I am in reg-habilitation. The power to heal.
Keep walking towards me big man. You are exactly what I need and always needed, but only totally.
