The Day I Met "The One"

Oil painting by robertchapla.com 

He was only eight weeks old. Trigger my new furry friend is tucked snugly in my jacket. His border collie genes tell him, he was made to ride shotgun.  Our morning routine was a quiet easy time.  Few words spoken, but a mutual understanding and gratitude were shared. We knew that saddled up with a couple good girl friends, watching the sun come up and a cup of “Joe” (with a little cocoa), is about as good as it gets.

As a troubled and confused 29 year old, these morning trail rides were my salvation.

This ride started like others, uneventful with a crisp chill in the air as fall was just around the bend.  Trigger loved riding in the saddle and running with the other ranch dogs.  He was so small that we could barely see his black and white little body hopping through tall gold grassy hills.

Abruptly cutting through the foggy valley floor, gunshots echoed through the hills. Alarmed we all listened to hear where they were coming from. Little would stop us from galloping towards the gunshots. 

There were four.  Three, sleepy eyed young boys lying on the ground with rifles, barely killing “cow pies” and one running across the field waving his arms. 

“Hey, hey it’s me, it’s me!” he shouted.  

As "Me” got closer I noticed Rhonda’s body relaxed back into her chaps. “Oh, it’s just you…” she says sighing with relief and a touch of disappointment.  “We were going to drag you poachers from behind our horses,” she teases.  

"Me" worked his way into an introduction picking up and smelling Trigger, as if he had known him forever.  His eyes smiled and twinkled with mischief as we started to ride away.  Trigger, ran back and forth playing with him.  It appeared he liked him, sneaking under a wire fence, and running back to the others a couple times.  Each time “Me” would carry him back, and lift him up into my saddle, “I think you’re dog likes me,” he would say attempting to catch eye contact.  I smiled and lookied away thinking, “He's the only one that likes you…” and quickly rode away to catch up with my friends.

Back with the others, one of the girls says, “So Rhonda, why are you not 'snacking’ (meaning dating) on that,” referring to the charming poacher.  Trigger was not the only one who noticed that, “the charming poacher” had beautiful green eyes, a ridiculous contagious smile and was alluring, handsome and charismatic.  Rhonda squeals, “Eeeew…  He is like my brother.”  


We giggled as walked our horses down the narrow country road.  Laughing at ourselves, as we noticed how excited we were about dragging “poachers” behind our horses.  

Just before meeting the trail, the charming one with his twinkly eyes, cautiously drove by us giving a smile and a wave.  As he passed my horse, he slows even more and gazes out the back window of his beat up Chevy pick up truck, with a final look that clearly said, “I will see you later and yes, I am checking you out!” 

Like a first grade girl, that boy, “the charming one,” that gave me “that look” and made me mad.  

I wanted to kick him in the shin.

And sometimes, I still do...

Peace, Love and "A Look..."  A