In Praise of Angus

Let us give praise to this old pony,Shetland of thirty years, shaggy, big-bellied, a bitswaybacked, who lets the child lead himfrom the stall; who, locking his legs, allows herto tug on the halter, and calling his name, to smackher lips to nudge him forward, that she may learnhis care—to brush and curry, keeping one hand alwayson his flank so he knows; and never to touchhis feet, because he bears a fear from former abuse—rodeo demons who used him as roping dummy.

Bought at auction for pity, Angus does not mindthe small weight of the girl in the saddle, and sufferingfrom congestive heart disease, suffers his heartto rise to a trot. When I see him bringing my girl,he brings, as well, all the millennia of animalsthat are given us. I see not so much the dominiongranted by the Old Testament God; I see the grantingbeneath it: I see in Angus the God who gavenot just the first world, but the choiceof learning to do it right; or do it wrong.