Thursday, June 01, 2006

The utterly impossible girl.

When I was young I came across this book about a talking horse: Casey the Utterly Impossible Horse. My version had a blue front cover. Actually, it was about a young boy Mike who finds a talking horse stranded on a quiet street corner in suburbia and I think the horse talks "his boy" into taking him back to his house to stay. Mike convinces his family to keep the horse in the garage at least until it is claimed by someone. Everything is agreed to and Mike is excited except for the fact that the horse is kind of demanding. The horse wants sugar cubes, not boring old horse food and the horse wants striped pajamas and a floating balloon tied to its tail. The boy makes his sister sew the horse a pair of striped pajamas and the horse is only happy for a while before it starts demanding other things (like a birthday party). I can't remember clearly how it ends but boy did I love that book.

I used to look for horses in the neighbourhood a lot after I read that book. I wanted my own horse so badly. In fact I found one, one day. In the 80s things were less built up in suburbia and someone a couple of streets away kept a horse in their backyard. It was deep brown and looked friendly. It had a swishy tail and was big. I used to peek through a hole in the tall fence and watch it trott around the enclosed space. Sometimes it came close, but never close enough for me to pat it. I used wish it were mine. I'd ask for a horse every year for my birthday..and christmas but I never got one.

In our adventures digging up the back yard when we were little, bro and I used to find bits of old horse shoe. The area must have been farmland back in the day. Once we even found a whole horse shoe. It was huge and heavy. Mum cleaned it up a bit and we put it on the wall for good luck. Luck was always an important thing in our house.

I thought the horse behind the fence a few streets away could talk, just like Casey. In fact I fancied the idea that all things that weren't meant to talk could talk and that all things that weren't meant to move could move when I wasn't watching. I'd sit my toys down and try to convince them to share their secret lives with me but they never spilled the beans. I always thought the best bits of life happened when I wasn't watching and I suppose in a small way that still is a perception of mine now.

I dunno, I was just thinking about that and thought I might share.