The Costume Class

Cajun was a nut-head. That was a proven fact. It didn't stop me though from entering the solid tank-like specimen of a horse in the Spring Run annual costume contest though. I was thirteen years old and had just started taking little informal lessons on Cajun, and I was in love—absolutely smitten! It didn't matter how often that horse stepped on me, dragged me, or bolted off with me, I always forgave him easily, and hopped back on. How could I not? He was big, flashy, and the most beautiful golden color that could just make you swoon! I had grown a few inches over the winter, giving me better grip and more leverage than last year...I could handle a silly little costume class, right?
The first time I saw it finished I thought that he would hate the costume. As soon as I tied the stuffed sheep to his head I knew for a fact that he hated it. We decided to make Cajun a horse in sheep's clothing (a play on “a wolf in sheep's clothing”). We had cut an old blue bed sheet to fit over Cajun's body like a normal turn-out rug, and sewed a bunch of fluffy white sheep to him to look like he was covered in a whole herd of sheep. Mom and I didn't have time though to sew eyes, ears, or limbs to any of the sheep though, so the only clue that they were actually sheep was the beautiful sheep that we made to sit on his giant white nose, hooked on a by a big ribbon that we tied underneath his thick throat-latch...much like how one would tie on a bonnet.
Mom and I knew that we entered into the contest more as a joke than anything else. There were some beautiful costumes in the class that people spent a lot of time and money putting together. My friend Sarah was one of several others entered into the class with me. She had spent hours making a whole princess costume by hand for her little chestnut mare! There was no way that Cajun and I were going to win a ribbon, but at least we'd get a few laughs.
The moment mom threw me onto Cajun's back I felt the tension in his muscles. He seemed to know he looked ridiculous, and he was not happy about it. I softly nudged him into a walk around the ring with the other mounted contestants, talking to him quietly, trying to sooth him with my voice. After a few laps in either direction around the arena we filed our horses to the middle and halted in a long line side by side. Cajun had finally seemed to relax, so I relaxed too. The judges began making their final walk through the lines, examining the details of every costume. Noticing that the judges were only a horse or two away, I quickly moved both reins to my left hand and reached forward to adjust the sheep tied to Cajun's head...Mistake...Big mistake.
Cajun did an annoyed little crow hop to the side and bolted off as heavy in my hands as a freight train. I began to wail, “get out of the way! I can't steer!” But that still didn't prevent Cajun from scattering the judges and almost running over the entire equine cast from the Wizard of Oz. Much to my horror I realized that Cajun was approaching the large perimeter wall, and I was completely out of control. After one or two useless tugs on the reins, I leaned forward, slung my right leg over Cajun's back, and pushed off for a flawless emergency dismount.
With my hands still clutching the reins, Cajun pulled me a few feet across the arena, but finally slowed down to a walk. I took a deep breath, but I couldn't stop angry, frightened tears from squeezing from my eyes. “I'm okay, I'm okay,” I said, trying to laugh it off as people rushed to my side. “Just throw me back on.” One of the judges grabbed the reins as someone else gave me a quick leg up onto the still squirming horse.
I walked Cajun around the ring in shame as the judges conferenced in the center of the ring, deciding on class placings. Finally, we were all called to the center once more. They started with 10th place to little red riding hood! Then 9th to the cowgirl....8th.....6th....5th....I waited impatiently for the awards to be handed out, ready to hop off and remove Cajun's silly costume. And then I heard the announcer say “And 4th place goes to the horse in sheep's clothing!” I chuckled in surprise as a volunteer walked over to me with a white ribbon in hand. “Want me to pin it on his bridle for you?” She asked me. “No, No! I said quickly. “Don't touch his head!” The girl smiled and then handed me my ribbon.
I knew immediately that it was a pity ribbon. I fell off and cried, so of course the judges would give me a pity ribbon. I did feel a little bad about it because I was sure that ribbon should have gone to my friend Sarah, who didn't end up with a ribbon at all. Cajun and I walked out of the arena gate and headed towards where my mom was standing. “Nice ribbon she said,” as I dismounted for the final time... “but you shouldn't have touched the sheep.”
“I know, I know,” I replied. “I shouldn't have touched the stupid sheep.”