Of Husband and Horses

Yesterday I worked late so on my way home I met JP for dinner at our favorite Bistro. He happily told me about his after-work activities: Not only had he worked Chambord, but also Remy, and both boys had been very good. I was quite surprised (although I shouldn’t have been) that he took it upon himself to repeat the exercises we did with Remy on Sunday. And all this in addition to cleaning the barn, preparing the feed, and walking the dogs. 
 

After all these years I am still amazed and grateful for “Mr. Perfect” (OK, almost perfect) J. I mean, how many women dream of a husband that supports their riding endeavors wholeheartedly, never question time or money spend? Especially considering his decidedly urban background (Paris!).  I did write a story some time ago that started with “all my husband knew about horses was what his mother served him on Saturdays”. Sounds pretty gruesome, but it is the truth. Now, my mother-in-law, Marguerite, was a lovely lady and a gifted cook. To her and to the majority of the French, horse meat was just another way to cook a delicious meal.

When I met JP he had never been exposed to riding horses, let alone women deeply infected with the ‘horse-bug’. Fast forward – not only did he offer me a horse for our first wedding anniversary, he stands by me with unwavering encouragement through all my ups and downs related to horses. In the process, JP became a dedicated horseman himself (five broken ribs and a permanently crooked finger later).

So, ladies, careful what you wish for; I sometimes get the distinct feeling I now have to compete with the horses for his attention. Hmm, shouldn’t it rather be the other way round??

P.S.  NO - he's not up for grabs!