In your eyes

Part 1 - I’m not yours

Slowly I break as the whip crackles down. It’s been four lashes to the beat, now my knees to the ground. The rider can see the buckle in my side, but I am not moving one step out of this hide. I’ve lost count of the days; I have lost count of the score. If I run out tonight, he will always want more. I’m going to settle in here and hope that it ends. I won’t run into that ring all over again.

The siren blares as they ready the spare. The rider jumps up and bounds through the air. He tightens new rope and readies his hand. Slaps on his hat and signals his command. The other gate releases and I pity my friend. He’s caught my bad luck and I can’t make amends. Now the handler tightens a new rope round my neck, with his friends they drag me out back.

Into my tiny little cage, with its unfriendly bars. Cold rows of silver, under a dim bronze star. A metal badge that calls out the name of this rodeo. Ranchers and clowns welcome you to ‘Bucking Ammo’. I place my head through the fence, close two weary eyes. Let my mind wander back to bluer skies. Those pastures so green, glistening with morning due. Something green to eat and always nothing to do.

A bolt and a chain now shackle my cage, but I escaped once before in a fit of rage. A young cowboy with interest left the bolt unsheathed. Only off for the slightest minute and I took off with heat. Hurry and hoof, running through woods. As much distance as I could manage, and as far as I could. I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams and found myself lost out near a stream. Houses in the distance and hills to my side, nary a rancher wanting a ride. I took a moment to slumber in welcome grass, then awoke to find trouble en masse.

They bring me back to this hell, with occasional shocks. Bolt up my cage and bury the blocks. Bury me too in the hellish façade of cowboys wrestling the west from a dusty yard. But I’m not theirs and I don’t belong to anyone. Tonight, it’s over and now I am finally done. That dumb ranch hand left the rope around my neck, if I catch it on the fence it will give me heck. If I can twist it once more and take up the slack, I can close my eyes and let angry thoughts fade to black.

Everything just fades to black . . .

There’s a scream, a crackle and metal banging down. I have shaken the brown star off its post and drawn the crowd. A cowboy runs at me with a knife, cutting my rope and saving what’s left of my life. Once it all settles, I try to sleep. I am awoken in the night with a little kick at my feet. A bundle of fur which fear inhabits, now deep in sleep at my feet is a rabbit.

In the morning, it nestles deep to my core. He looks tired and cold; he must be thirsty for sure. With careful teeth, I carry him gently to the trough. Perilously placed on the edge, he gave the water a good quaff. Through the days he wanders, scampering around, hiding from trouble in between bounds. At night, he returns to keep me company. Another lonely soul, a little less lonely with me.

Now I find myself stronger, easier to stand. I run through their paces and buck wildly for the bands. I know that they see him and the joy he’s giving me. But I must be performing enough to earn a reprieve. The cowboys start bringing him food and water of his own. This unlikely friendship they seem to condone. Sounding a weary heartstring almost impossible to pull, that silly little rabbit gives hope to this dumb bull.

Part 2 - You can be mine

The shaking jars me awake. I twitch with my feet. Bump, bump, bump. This must be the worst road ever. To my left a wooden cage and a wooden railing. There has got to be a couple hundred of us on this contraption. Each held inside their own prison.

Stop, wait, where am I again?

I was on a farm. I think. There was grass. Lots of grass. Green, green, grass. I have to stop repeating myself. Or at least get it right. Who’s that guy in the cage next to me? Why is his cage going upside down? Carrots! I’m going upside down. There is screeching and a crashing noise. Everyone and everything are bouncing around in here. On no wait, that’s me. I’m the only one moving. My cage is loose and its heading towards the back of the truck. This is going to hurt.

Oh shit. Well, I am alive. I am still inside my cage or what is left of it. I can see the truck carrying everyone disappearing into the distance. I need to get out of this thing, or I am going to die. I’m not a cat, I don’t have nine lives. I barely have one. Half of my cage is squished and dented from the fall. The door is jammed. There is no way I am getting that door, or what’s of it open. Oh, but the top of the metal cage is ajar. If I can turn around and kick against the roof of the cage, I could get out of this thing. Voila! Cage is open and I am now free . . . in the middle of nowhere.

Hop of out of here and slowly make my way along the road. Wow, this is a long road. A seriously long road. A little bit of green here and there, not much water, some hills and that’s about it. There has got to be something out here. I need to find somewhere I can sleep for the night off the road. Oh look, there is a distant bit of greenery just off the road and its only forever in the distance. I need to find somewhere else tomorrow. This green shrubbery isn’t that bad. I just hope I am not the only thing here. I’ll give it five minutes and see if anything moves.

What, what, what. What is that? Rabbits, I fell asleep. Time to keep walking along this seemingly endless road. Something will pop up. There’s noise in the distance. People. Cows? Wait. What’s going on here. There are about fifty cows or bulls fenced off in their own little cages here. Just kidding, I can’t count, but there is a lot of bulls here.

Duck, duck, no, wait, all those people are running somewhere else. This large chunk of metal looks like it is about to fall down. Crash! Bang! Damn that was loud. I think I just peed myself. Why am I going closer? I so want to see what it is, but I don’t want to go there. What the cabbage? One of the bulls is caught on the fence. He’s pulling it down. Oh, I hope they cut him free.

Oh, those eyes. He just looked at me. I have never seen such intensity. He’s hurting, he’s in pain, tormented again and again, with the feeling . . . wait. What did he do to me? I don’t rhyme.

It’s getting darker now, he’s all alone. This king of a beast lying on a muddy straw throne. I don’t know what I can give, this little thumper. Something to touch, console or offer comfort. Maybe some warmth to share between us two, I’ll snuggle in close through hind and hoof. Give him a few kicks, let him know that I am here. Show him some assurance and show him that I am near.

Now the days that follow have highs and lows. I see through his eyes and think with his prose. I want to believe that this is a home, where cowboys and ranchers sing his song. I want to walk with my new friend, and wander and hide again and again. I want to go to places that only we know, far from the cowboys by flight of crow. Where flocks of birds hide this nightmarish truth, that my friend is a prisoner for as long as he is of use.

Today, like many before, I woke up alone, but this evening my friend did not come home. I hid in the corner as the night became black and then the morning rose again, but my friend did not return. Gone was his presence, gone was his prose. My thoughts return to normal. I slip out of the cage and hide at the edge of the area where the keep the bulls.

The sun sets again. I can’t see him in his cage. I close my eyes and try to think of his. Maybe his prose will return to me one last time. Then he can be . . .