Adult Perspective, Petite Murderer, When Horses Attack

One of my favorite childhood authors was Zilpha Keatley Snyder. I was transformed by her book “The Changeling” and loved all of her other novels in almost equal measure. Recently, desperate for something to read in the tub, I rummaged through my bookshelf and found a battered copy of the Newberry-Award winning “The Witches of Worm,” a book that was was high on my list of childhood favorites. I’m not one for hanging on to material things, but for some reason, I’ve kept this falling-apart paperback all these many years. As a young teen, I read it with deep fascination and total belief in the premise, which involves a unhappy girl named Jessica who adopts a demonic cat that talks to her psychically and puts bad ideas into her head. As an adult re-reading the book after many years, of course my perspective has greatly changed. I don’t remember now what exactly happens in the book, so I’m curious to get to the ending, but I am wondering if Jessica may have a burgeoning case of schizophrenia, I’m worried about the completely dysfunctional and borderline abusive relationship between her and the titular cat Worm, and I find myself appalled at her mother’s neglect. Jessica is a child. She needs care and attention. But when I read the book as a young person of about Jessica’s age, I didn’t feel that way. I thought that Jessica was a little mean, but strong and self-sufficient. I didn’t realize how vulnerable she actually was, and that a lot her problems stem from the fact that she is in desperate need of love and basic adult protection. It’s odd how I completely missed that reading the book as a kid. I suppose as children, we simply adapt to what we do or don’t have, since we have little to compare things to and can’t make accurate judgments about our own needs. But aside from all of that, the pure magic that I remember as a kid still permeates Snyder’s writing. She is a uniquely talented writer, and my childhood self is very grateful for the gift of her stories.

I met my new fill-in trainer this week. She is pretty, feminine, sweet and personable--and a veritable stealth killer. I let her kind demeanor and dainty figure lure me into a sense of complacency, and halfway through our session, I was in deep and wondering what the hell was happening. I was dripping sweat and gasping and the whole time she kept saying, “Good! Good! You’re doing so great!” while my quads and gluts were being put through hell and I was too busy to notice--until the next day, when I realized the true extent of her brutishness. I’m going to have to watch her closely in the future, and not let her use her kindliness as a distraction from the obvious fact that she is trying to destroy my quads. But in all seriousness, I do like her. Quads aside, she’s very nice and she showed me some new techniques that helped my reverse lunges, which I appreciate. Also, good news-- apparently my regular trainer’s new son came out great. Photos were sent, and the consensus among the gym staff is that he is the cutest baby ever to grace the planet, so that made me glad.

In my ongoing longing for a pet, I recently found myself deep in conversation with one of my retired volunteers about her long career in dressage, horse shows, and breeding and buying horses. I remarked on my last experience horsebacking riding at the beach and how my assigned horse had a mind of his own and a strong personality, and that I had no control over him whatsoever. She then recounted a story wherein she was once picked up whole in the jaws of a disgruntled horse and thrown across the stable. I was horrified. I love and appreciate horses but I’m also pretty scared of them, specifically of being kicked or attacked by one. I can’t imagine being picked up in one’s jaws and bodily thrown about. According to this volunteer, working around horses is rough on the body. She’s been thrown, stomped, kicked and bitten more times than she can count. She’s a tough lady, that one. I am not about to go out and buy a horse any time soon, but I am longing for that human-animal bond.

Since we’re on horses, here’s an old one by Band of Horses, featuring an intrepid pillow thief. Enjoy!

--Kristen McHenry