The horse jumped and started. Far as I could tell the animal was about to do the Preakness on my chest. I lost all dignity and started rolling as fast as I could through the oil, across the muddy ground towards the back door of the house. Jubie came running up and darted around barking, not at the horse but at me. I cursed the damn dog, thinking he needed a lecture on loyalty, as I scrambled to my feet and bolted towards the porch.
Just then I heard a small voice say "It's okay Libby...it's okay... they're friends." Panting, I looked over to see a dirty little urchin, maybe five, standing beside the wood not ten feet away. The horse stiffened, then relaxed somewhat reluctantly. Still casting a suspicious eye my way, the mare trotted over and nuzzled the little girl. I felt a bit less threatened but my adrenaline count was off the richter scale. I still edged towards the house.
"Sorry about Libby mister, we been havin' some trouble. She don't like grumps too much." She started giggling. "I guess Libby is your horse?" I asked the obvious "What's your name?" "Dusty," she said "an Libby don't belong to me, she belongs to herself." "Well Miss Dusty, I would like it if you would tell your friend Libby that I don't take kindly to being tromped on in my own backyard." I was feeling a little cross and was looking for someone to chew on. I looked at the dirty little girl and thought better of it. "Why don't you come in the house. I bet you're hungry and no offense, but looks like you could use a bath." I put out my hand.
I looked down at the oily footprints that were forming on the sidewalk and got a good idea of what was so funny. I looked like I had been tarred and feathered. Dirty black crankcase oil covered my clothes and face. In my mad scramble I had picked up all sorts of leaves and other flotsam and jetsam that was now stuck on me in globs. I reached up and pulled a piece of dirty kite string off my cheek that was hanging like tinsel on a Christmas tree.
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