Thanksgiving at Camelot, by Penny Austin
They wondered what was going to happen. The night before had been very confusing. Lots of hustle and bustle. Men had put saddles on them. Men they didn’t know. And ridden them through the ring. There were people there. Some mentioned how pretty they were or how well they moved.
The tall hunter was nonplussed. He confided in the little black and white pony that the few seconds in the ring could surely not impress anyone. And he wondered where the jumps were. He continued his musing, mostly to himself.
The girls in the group, huddled together, each of them trying to impress the others with their past glories. One mentioned she had flown down the track in front of thousands of people. The older one, asked what had happened. The racing mare said she wasn’t sure. One day, they just took her away. She had been traveling awhile. The girls grew quiet. Each of them had had something similar happen. One day, they were loved, cared for, the next they were loaded up and taken away.
The paint in the corner stared out the window, lost in thought, or perhaps lost in memory.
None knew what their tomorrows would be like. Where they would end up. Some were worried. Others, just went somewhere inside that was safe and quiet. Perhaps they hung onto a sweet memory.
The little ginger colored dog saw their sadness, and taking pity on them, told them not to worry, that it was Thanksgiving.
They looked at her almost as one. The older gelding, perhaps the one who had been through the most, asked the dog, Thanksgiving, what is Thanksgiving?
The ginger colored dog sat down in the pen with them and began explaining.
“Why Thanksgiving is the day we all give thanks for the many blessings we have”.
The mares and geldings just shook their heads, most still lost in their confusion. The little pony, perhaps the most curious of the group, managed to say to the dog “we have had blessings in the past, but we don’t know what our tomorrows will bring and we are afraid.”
The little ginger colored dog stood up, shaking the shavings and hay from her bottom, and began to trot off. But before she did, she told the group, still wondering what they had to be thankful for, “don’t worry, my friends, you are at Camelot. You are on a list and a woman will come today and take your pictures. Your faces will be all over the place. Many people will say how beautiful you are and they will show your pictures to other people, and those people will wonder how you came to be here, and they will show your pictures to even more people, and so on and so on. And soon, very soon, your very special someone will see you and say “that’s the one for me”. And they will come to get you. You will have green pastures, and cool water, as much hay as you could possibly want. Oh and the best part, this person will love you forever.”
With that, the little ginger colored dog trotted off happily.
The mares and the geldings wondered if this could truly be. If this “list” really was. And then, while they were all still muttering to each other, a woman came in with a camera. One by one, she took their pictures. And one by one, as each mare and gelding took its turn in front of the camera, a very special thing began to happen. They looked into the camera and sent their love to it, so that whoever saw their pictures would know. Would know that their hearts were loving and their souls were pure. They began to believe. They began to hope.
After all, it was Thanksgiving at Camelot.