"Happy", 4th of July.

This is not a holiday that we celebrate in our home.

As an amateur historian and lifelong Anglophile, I have often wondered what this country would have been like with a Monarch rather than a president, but as my father used to say "If wishes were horses......." which brings me to a little story.

I had a horse who lived for thirty-two years despite the fact that he was deathly afraid of fireworks. The sound, the sight, the smell, or of anything that remotely sounded like fireworks and so every Fourth of July was spent in the stables from just before sundown until the last pop had fizzled. 

By then, my poor Maximus (not his real name, but the similarities between the equine star of "Tangled" and my own white dream come true horse, are too numerous to mention ) was exhausted from running in circles, stopping only to take treats from mine and my mother's hands meant to calm him but sadly, nothing ever did. Eventually, when he realized that they had stopped he would calm down gradually and we would stay with him until he was cool and had a drink and more treats and felt safe enough to eat his forgotten dinner and we all heaved a sigh of relief that it was over for another year. I have no idea why it affected him so. Having known other horses that barely acknowledged the sound, but had other triggers of their own, I can only imagine that before we met he had a bad experience involving fireworks that no amount of soothing could ever heal. 

He was so brave and strong in so many other ways. He loved baths, shipped like a trooper, would cross water with very little urging and boulevards like a parade horse, he was a sweetheart for the farrier and the vet, had the patience of a saint for grooming and braiding including the ribbons and flowers I adorned him with to match his wardrobe of browbands, saddle towels and polos. He ponied younger horses and was a wonderful teacher, he opened and closed gates so that I never had to dismount (which I appreciated as it was a long way down and back up again) and he posed for pictures (after his introduction to the flash which made him freeze the first time) like a movie star on the red carpet. 

Thankfully, we moved eventually and his last years were fireworks free, but there was still the occasional backfiring of a car, a rifle shot, a sputtering plane overhead, a champagne cork. These at least were brief and few and far between.

So, my only thought on this Fourth of July is, I miss you, but at least you were spared this day for one more year. 

And in my heart I hope that there are no fireworks in Heaven. 

At least not where you live.💕

                                                                                             

                                                                                        Tess🌷