At Weeks End
Ive never forgotten the little red cowboy hat Hudson wore when we took him to the Allen County Fair to ride a pony.
He looked forward to going, and it took no coaxing for him to let the ponys owner lift him into a saddle. I paid a dollar, and four small horses plodded off, immune to boredom of walking without a destination for two or three hours. Meander would be a good word for how they walked, not fast and absent emotion.
As Hudson came around grandma took photos; I smiled and probably said something silly, like ride em cowboy. Hang on? He was cinched into the saddle and wouldnt have fallen off if his mount had been stung by a bee.
