Why do people on the county island got to do so much “multi-taskin’” all the time? Us horses do things one thing at a time, which is the logical way. When it’s time to eat, we eat. When it’s time to play, we play. When it’s time to sleep, we sleep. We’re not goin’ around all the time tryin’ to eat and play and bite and kick and sleep and run and buck and talk and listen all at the same time. That don’t work real good, in the long run. It’s not, as they say, economical. The boys at the ranch didn’t even multi-task all that much. Fixin’ fences is fixin’ fences, and doctorin’ cows is doctorin’ cows, and kickin’ back and crackin’ a six-pack after a long day is always good.
There’s some girls on the island that go by the name of Darwin, I think, ‘cause I always hear ‘em called “the Darwin girls.” No, I don’t know what that means; it’s just what I heard. Maybe it’s a kind of breed of people. The Darwin girls got this multi-taskin’ thing down to the extreme. I guess they like to be prepared for any eventuality, so as like if you’re gonna ride your horse, instead of wearin’ your boots that might protect your soft pink feet from bein’ stomped on, you wear your “flip-flops” in case you suddenly got to drop the reins and go to the beach with your friends. I suppose it could happen. I seen stranger.
I seen ‘em do one especially interestin’ multi-task over the years. One of ‘em was riding down the road, not mindin’ any of the traffic with the big, roarin’ engines or the bouncin’, rattley trailers. She was ridin’ kinda partly in the road, kinda partly on the shoulder.
And she was ridin’ sorta bareback, ‘cause she was sitting on her saddle pad, like she meant to saddle up but got distracted along the way and forgot the saddlin’ part. Maybe her cell phone distracted her, ‘cause she was ridin’ and talkin’ real loud and important to it with her head all cricked sideways so’s she wouldn’t drop it. And while she forgot her saddle and cinch, she did remember that she needed to pony one of the green, young horses down the road that didn’t know how to walk along and pony real good, but she kept talkin’ to her phone while she was doin’ it.
And I guess she also had time enough to get herself a drink, ‘cause in her other hand, the one that was not tryin’ to hold the green horse’s lead rope, she was carryin’ a great big “frappuccino” that I hear the fancy folk like to drink in the summertime, and she was tryin’ not to spill it while her butt was slidin’ one way on the loose saddle pad, and she was bein’ tugged on the other way by the young horse she was ponyin’, and tryin’ not to drop her phone, and keep her neck cricked on it, and carry on her conversation. And she must’ve been on her way to the beach, too, ‘cause she also had her “flip-flops” on. Maybe that’s what she was sayin’ to her phone that was so important, about the beach.
It was a good thing the horse she was on seemed to know what to do. It’s always up to us good horses, ain’t it?
I was kinda impressed, actually. I think that’s the most multi-taskin’ I ever seen, all at one time. I kept watchin’ her and waitin’ at the corner for some kinda grand finale. But there wasn’t one, because she had that real good horse lookin’ out for her, who was busy doin’ his singular job of keepin’ her safe instead of doin’ that multi-taskin’ nonsense.