I had a horse.
Her name was Clementine.
It was a misnomer. She should have been named, Woman-of-War.
Clementine was a gigantic beast-of-a-horse. She was trained as a rodeo horse, a polo pony, and a Sheriff’s Posse horse. She was a registered bay mare.
I came to own Clementine by happenstance.
We were destined to meet.
We shared uncanny similarities, unknown to everyone, until now.
Clementine sang songs to my wounded heart. I gave her a part of my soul.
There was a song long ago that went, “Oh my darling, oh my darling, Oh my darling, Clementine, you are lost, and gone forever, dreadful sorrow, Clementine.” My Clementine is, sadly lost to me now. It is a dreadful sorrow.
Another song was titled ‘Camptown Races’ and was popular not long after the American Civil War.
The lyrics are a lilting song of horseracing. In this song, the one betting on horses would rather bet on a bob-tail nag (of a horse) while letting another bet on the bay (horse). Perhaps the Nag was symbolic of grit and determination, while the Bay, aristocratic privilege. Maybe?
I think the song’s winner puts money on the Nag. I will always bet on the Bay. The grace and ease of a bay mare’s gait is beauty in motion.
The last of Clementine’s songs, I sing only to myself. It is a refrain from the popular children’s game from the deep past. ‘London Bridge.’ The refrain, “Take the key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up, take the key and lock her up, my fair Lady.” This song wrenches my heart. My Clementine was my Lady. She had been beaten and abused, but we formed an unlikely bond, a deep restorative love. Clementine, however is now locked away from me forever.
This song I never sang to my Clementine.
Now. I will explain.
Before chance brought us together, Clementine contracted a condition that potentially, without treatment, drives a horse insane.
She was wild and unstoppable. If she was spooked or mad, she was a very dangerous horse.
In my deep need for a horse’s love, I was introduced to Clementine. My tiny, young daughter needed confidence, and I needed a horse.
We worked with Clemmie’s owner and trainer, who found that Clem loved and trusted my small girl and me.
We trusted and loved her.
Our relationship started slowly as the trainer taught Little Girl how to lead Clementine, then how to mount and ride her as I led Clementine, and finally how to ride her without a lead. My tiny girl could then have her friends mount her horse as she led them around our pasture.
It was a time of pure pleasure.
As time passes, little girls grow up.
My own need for a horse was to love and be loved by her.
To me, a horse is an unmatched power, controlled by a small bit in the mouth or by the force of pure love. My Clementine’s love was pure love given, without force applied.
My need for Clementine had nothing to do with the need to control or master her.
My need for Clemmie, was the need of one broken soul for another.
There are so many Clementine stories and memories.
I learned more from her than I learn from most people.
She understood my words, my thoughts, and my needs. If you have never owned a horse, you may find this ridiculous.
Do you have a dog, perhaps? Is your dog empathic and empathetic to your needs? If so, you understand now.
She was ‘My Darling Clementine.’
Had she raced, and there had been those who bet against her, they would have regretted not knowing my Clementine before losing their money.
The last and sad song?
I sing the refrain from ‘London Bridge.’
I had to take the key and lock up my Fair Lady. She was badly torn by viscous barbed-wire. A family veterinarian saved her life, but barely.
I had to give her up.
A gentle, kind woman who loved my Lady, found her a home with wild and free horses on a ranch.
Somewhere, where she is lost: where she is gone forever, is my Darling Clementine.
Somewhere she is free, as I am now.
We were destined to meet.
We are Women-of-War, restrained by the powerful force of pure love.
