Let me tell you a story. It dated back around, sixty years ago. You see I was just a youngin’, ‘bout nine or so. My folks were split up, and this month I was stayin’ with my Pa. 

I was in my room. It was small, but yet cozy. I flipped through the pages of Old Yeller, and Charlotte’s Web, decidin’ on what to read. As I settled on Old Yeller, I heard my Pa’s boots shuffle on the tile floor. He hung his head in my doorway.

“Feed the horses, there’ll be just enough hay. I’m goin’ to town to get some more hay for tomorrow, boy,” He tipped his cowboy hat, then clicked away. I shut my book. The pages crinkled from liquid stains. 

Slidin’ on my boots, I slapped my jeans and called out,”Spark!” my dog’s name. As Spark came trottin’ to me, I flung open the door and walked towards the barn. 

When we got to the barn I pushed open the doors. A flood of manure and animal fur smells floated to me. 

Carefully I chose a rake. Fwish! Fwish! The hay rubbed together. I shoveled up some hay, and tossed it into the stalls. A little while later the stalls were fully stocked. 

“Butch, Buttercup, Bubba!” I clapped my hands, and each horse trotted in. Buttercup was the last one to walk in. Weird, she was usually always the first. She was also a little larger. 

I stroked her mane, then turned around to go back to the house. Spark stopped me. 

“Spark?” He gently nudged me with his snout, herdin’ me back to the barn. I heard a loud snort. 

“Huh?” The sound came from Buttercup. I felt her sides. Uh-oh. I knew what this meant. Buttercup was ready to have a baby! I felt some more. Her baby was due any minute now! I spun around, ready to go tell Pa, but then I remembered, he was in town gettin’ hay! My heart pounded. What was I goin’ to do? 

Then, I remembered what Pa had shown me. 

“You already know how to birth a horse,” his voice ran through my head. He had said that when a neighbor’s horse was ready to have a baby. Pa had pushed me to birth the foal myself, but I was too much of a wimp. 

I took a deep breath. I knew what I had to do. Slowly, I guided Buttercup away from the hay, and into an empty stall. I turned around, then dashed into the house. 

As I raced inside, and found a cabinet with clean towels inside of it. I grabbed the towels and set them down by Buttercup. I started to work. 

What felt like a decade after, I had birthed the foal! A rush of relief and happiness flooded into me. I stood up, and wiped my hands on a towel that I hadn’t used. 

Just then a truck pulled in, haulin’ a trailer of hay behind it. I waited for my Pa to come. When he came, he smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. He knew. Of course he knew. It was my Pa. 

I smiled, then turned to look at Buttercup and her new foal, Buckle. I laughed; the name sure did go with the foal. Buttercup nuzzled Buckle every time he stumbled while walkin’. 

My Pa and I smiled, and I swanee so did Spark.