When Kristen walked out to the barn, she knew immediately that something was wrong with Bullet, her nineteen-year-old quarter horse. Instead of greeting her with his usual guttural whinny, he stood silently in his stall with his head hanging down. The straw bedding in his stall was as pure (pristine) as it had been two days prior when Kristen had raked it into place. Grain sat untouched in Bullet’s feed bucket from last night’s meal. Kristen pulled a carrot treat from her pocket and offered it to her horse, but he ignored her gesture. It was a clear indication that something was wrong.

For a moment Kristen lost herself in a reverie, remembering the day her mother had bought Bullet for her. He was an exquisite animal, far more beautiful than the tired, old trail horses she had occasionally rented at the local riding stable. His august, sculpted head showed the Arabian bloodlines that were in his family tree. His alert eyes and upright ears gave him an intelligent countenance. His sorrel coat gleamed in the sunshine, and his long tail and mane fluttered in the wind whenever he cantered across a field.

He had been her savior from school, where she struggled each day to keep up with the other students. He had also been her savior from the bullies who tormented her each day on the playground, making faces at her and calling her names. Back then, in fifth grade, whenever she jumped on her horse’s back and cantered across green fields, bullies and bad grades were erased (effaced) from her mind. She was free. She was powerful. She was happy.

Now she was sad (morose). In the last month the vet had made three emergency visits to treat Bullet for colic, the horse-version of indigestion (dyspepsia). It is a dangerous affliction. If not treated quickly, horses often lay down twisting in pain (writhing) from the pain in their bellies until their intestines become twisted. The thought of it made Kristen wince for she knew that a horse’s death was coming soon (imminent) once it began rolling in pain. She wondered if Bullet’s stomach pains were being caused by some horse (equine) contagion or a cancerous tumor strangling his intestines. The only way to know for sure would be to send her horse for tests.

That evening Kristen gathered all her powers of persuasion and begged her parents for help. “Mom! Dad! Bullet has to go to the hospital. He’ll die if he doesn’t!”

“Kristen, that could cost thousands of dollars and he’s nineteen-years-old already!” her mother argued.

“It’s out of the question. It’s time for you to grow up. You need to save money for your future. You’ll need a new car soon. Someday you’ll want to buy a house. You can’t afford a horse anymore.” It was clear from the expression on Kristen’s father’s face that he was not going to change his mind.

Kristen turned to her mother, who had always been more willing to discuss an issue when there was a disagreement. “Mom! Please! Horses can live to be thirty or forty. This might be a minor problem that can be cured. I’ll get another job. Wouldn’t you want me to do the same for you someday when you get old?”

A sly expression came over Kristen’s mother’s face. “Very well. If you can get Bullet into a trailer without hurting anyone, you can take him to Mid-Atlantic Equine Medical Center in Ringoes.

Kristen felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her. Previous attempts to load the horse into a trailer had always ended unsuccessfully. Bullet hated trailers, and the horse was sagacious. Whenever anyone led him toward a trailer he would turn his body sideways making it impossible to push or pull him inside. The process became a battle of wills. The harder the handlers tried, the more Bullet would resist until eventually he would rear up, hurling his twelve-hundred-pound body high into the air. Kristen knew that for Bullet’s sake she would have to try one more time. She hoped with all her heart that this time Bullet would be too sick and weak to fight. Kristen called the medical center and fortunately was able to schedule an emergency visit for the following morning.

At 8:00 A.M. when the truck and horse trailer pulled up to the barn, Bullet lifted his head and pawed nervously at the ground. Kristen warned the handler about Bullet’s hatred of trailers, but the man insisted there would be no problem.

He grabbed Bullet’s lead and began walking the horse toward the trailer. Bullet walked calmly, but when his hooves touched the trailer’s walk-up ramp he reared and pulled back. The handler hung on, digging his heels into the ground and yanking back hard on the lead. “Whoa boy! Whoa!” the man shouted. With a winded voice he said, “We’re gonna have to blindfold him.”

Kristen found a clean towel in the barn to use as a shroud and gave it to the handler. The man draped it over Bullet’s face, and told Kristen to go into the trailer and call to her horse. Slowly he walked the animal toward the trailer as Kristen coaxed him inside with her voice. This time Bullet stepped forward calmly. The minute he was inside, the handler closed the trailer doors behind him. “Two obstacles down and one more to go,” Kristen whispered softly to herself.

Hours later Kristen learned that she had made the right decision. The vet announced that Bullet was treatable. The horse was suffering from ulcers and could be cured with medicine and a special diet. Kristen stroked her horse’s neck and spoke softly to him. “Well old boy don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You helped me. Now I’m going to help you.”

REVIEW QUESTIONS

1. How did Kristen know that her horse was sick?

2. What obstacles did Kristen have to overcome in order to get her horse treated?

3. What did Bullet do that showed he was a sagacious horse?

4. What did Kristen use as a shroud?

5. What was making Bullet sick?

Approximate reading times:

4 minutes @ 250/words per minute

5 minutes @ 200/words per minute

6.5 minutes @150/words per minute

9.5 minutes @ 100/words per minute

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