The Dog That Took a Horse to Water (Short Story)

Leon bought himself a horse because he could. He wasn't at all an equine enthusiast, didn't ride it for months - so I had to make sure Marmaduke didn't turn feral or lazy.

The workmen drafted in to build our annex laughed and jested about it almost on a daily basis. Being a stubborn and proud man, Leon made the effort one day to mount his neglected steed and put a stop to the builders' jibes. I had to restrain from laughing as I caught a glimpse of Leon strutting about on his jodhpur-clad legs before the full-length mirror in the hallway. It was not very becoming, but I was glad the clothes he'd purchased at the same time as the horse were finally getting an outing.

I made a low cough to introduce myself to him gently, but he became rigid-straight as he turned to me - a slight look of anxiety flecked his eyes.

I took his hand and said, "Come on then, lets get Marms warmed up."

He picked up the whip that was resting on the bench, wishing to look every inch the showman.

I brought Marms round the front of the yard. Leon should have been using the mounting block, but he insisted he didn't need it. Marms whinnied, which caught the attention of all three of the workmen.

Several attempts to mount sans mounting block proved very unsuccessful. A flush the hue of burgundy surfaced on Leon's cheeks. I stepped forward to give him a leg-up on the side the builders couldn't see - though I strained greatly, his backside hit the saddle with a dull thud. I whispered up to ask if he wanted to be led. I know that Marms has become lazy enough not to want to bolt, but think that Leon might want the security. His look tells me everything: No, let me get this over with as quickly as possible.

I stepped away. Courage improved Leon's posture. The whip rose. There was a second's delay as Marms tried to understand what had hit his flank so rigorously. He whinnied then trotted on - ears pricked, tail flared up. The whip cracked again and Marms strides into a canter.

I looked to the builders who were muttering. All together, they raised their arms and began clapping enthusiastically in mock celebration. The noise spooked Marms so much that he swiftly upped his pace to a full-tilted gallop. Leon was leaning too far back in the saddle, but somehow managed to told tight as they sped through the gate and into the rolling hills beyond. We didn't see them again for half and hour.

Luckily for Leon, when he did return - safely dismounted but disheveled, the builders were around the other side of the house taking a coffee break. He would not speak to me, only outstretched the reins and childishly patted Marms on the rump.

So, I now have two horses along with my lovely petite Dachshund, Florence to exercise and attend to. We make a rather unusual trio (obviously I can't take both horses out at the same time) when we go out hacking. Florence had been rejected by her mother at a very young age, so I became her surrogate dog-mother, and as such - she became more like a child and I honestly believe she did not ever think that she belonged to the canine world.

Flo had to be first for everything as if her sass made up for her lack of stature. Wether we were out walking, or riding - Flo would stride ahead, legs beating like a humming bird's wings. She'd invariably want to sit astride one of the horses - in front of me as if she were the captain of a great Roman war horse.

Being close to the coast of St Ives, I was always keen to get both horses acclimatized with the sea - excellent for all-round toning and cleaning. Such a natural practice for horses and dogs, but seeing Flo swimming alongside the horses always looked bizarre and often attracted remonstrations of worry from passers by who were not accustomed to a routine I had rendered as normal.

Shortly after Leon's debut on Marms, I decided that introducing him to the sea would save me a few hours work as it would tire the horse quicker than hacking on land. I had taught my horse, Shadow a few years previously, and although initially tentative, I soon got her settled into a sea-bonding routine. Unfortunately, Marms was not so keen to breach the waters of St Ives.

He just wouldn't be led or ridden into the shallows past his hooves. I tried dragging at his halter, teasing with carrots and apples - even taking Shadow for company. I was on the verge of admitting defeat when one day, as I watched Flo lapping up her water from a shallow bowl, I had an epiphany: if Flo was hot on the heels of Marms on hacks, then surely Flo could lead Marms into the water?

So, with great trepidation, I led Marms down our usual trail towards the sea. It was a relatively calm day - perfect really. Flo, excited and eager as ever, wobbled and snaked her way out front of Marms - turning her head full back to check we were following every few minutes. Marms followed her scent and gently touched his muzzle on Flo's back occasionally.

I took a deep breath as Flo's tiny legs began striding the water - Marms' nose tickled the surface, he shivered a little, but kept moving forward. Flo disappeared briefly under a small wave. Marms stopped momentarily, but started more readily when he saw her resurface. The water was nearly at Marms' flanks and my knees - we were making progress.

I like to think that Marms was too preoccupied with Flo's course through the waves to worry about the official christening of his sea legs - but I did feel a strain as he lost contact with the seabed and made the transition of carrying both our weight without gravity's aid.

Marms' nose snorted in the surface swell but he soon settled his head at a more sensible angle. For a few minutes we were all in unison, almost enjoying this strange new foray.

Then Flo disappeared.

Marms whinnied and his gait changed into a frantic thrashing. He tired very quickly. For a few seconds he gave up and we both sank below the surface. I kicked at his sides with my legs to try and bring him back up. Somehow he regained his composure, resurfaced and as we blinked the salt water from our eyes - we both sighed with great relief as Flo paddled towards us, Marms stretched his head towards her and their noses touched briefly.

The wise little canine knew which way to lead us next.

Marms would not so much as dip one hoof into the sea without his sausage-shaped guardian after that day.