A Horse, of Course with Don Blazer

When you look at a pigmy goat, it’s hard to visualize a hero.

At least I didn’t think I was looking at a hero.

"It’s in the eyes of the beholder," Walter said.

"Explain," I replied.

Walter, a horse, of course, moved across his stall and put his head down to nuzzle Smoky who was lying in Walter’s hay. Apparently Smoky gave the okay to tell the story.

Smoky’s life seemed pointless.

He really had no purpose.

He wandered. He loafed. He complained a lot.

He was bored.

Then fate took action. In a matter of hours everything changed.

Smoky was tethered and dragged from his yard and literally lifted into the front seat of a pickup truck which instantly started whizzing down the freeway. There were no explanations about his destination; he was simply being shanghaied.

The turnabout in Smoky’s life came about when running quarter horse owner Ed Actkinson discovered he had a problem: a horse so nervous he wouldn’t eat.

"Top Racer was actually starving and walking himself to death. We’d had a lot of trouble with him at the racetrack, but he was watched every minute and so we were able to keep on top of the problem," Actkinson said.

"Then we made our mistake. We had Top Racer turned out for a rest. He was in a pasture with other horses, but without constant supervision. He was nearly a skeleton in less than 45 days."

So Top Racer was loaded into a trailer and vanned toward a new ranch. At the same time the truck which carried Smoky sped to the same destination. Put into a stall, Top Racer started pacing immediately, ignoring hay, grain and water. He looked over the stall door and watched Smoky jump down from the truck cab. Smoky was pushed into Top Racer’s stall.

That first night was the most difficult.

Top Racer took on an attitude of instant dislike for Smoky. He bared his teeth and bit Smoky. He swung around and kicked at Smoky. He even tried once or twice to strike Smoky.

But with the calmness of a matador in the ring of death, Smoky dodged every flying hoof.

Smoky was a goat with a lot of cool.

Smoky suddenly was a goat with a purpose, a goat with direction, a goat with a job to do.

And Smoky did it. He became Top Racer’s friend and endured his wrath. Within months Top Racer had gained back his weight, seldom paced his stall, wasn’t nervous and was anxious to eat. Threatening abuse to Smoky seemed to agree with him. When Top Racer went back to the races he was confident and relaxed and he started winning again.

When Smoky and Top Racer were separated, Smoky was reassigned.

Smoky’s new position required him to travel from show to show with a nervous jumper. He was supposed to stand next to the horse in the trailer. After only a few trips, Smoky took to sleeping under the horse and the horse learned to stand still and rest on long trips.

Smoky made another friend, but worked himself out of another job.

"Friendship is a powerful force and certainly can create heroes," I said to Walter.

"Sure," said Walter, "but that’s not why I see Smoky as a hero."

"So why do you think he’s a hero?," I asked.

"Look at him," Walter said. "He’s sleeping in the middle of my hay. He eats everything and anything he wants, and he just cruises through life. Now that’s my kind of hero."

Walter is a pretty insightful guy; he quickly sees through a flashy facade of heroism to focus on the important stuff.

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