Poem: Ferrari's Workout

You gaze at me across the room while talking with the others at the party. Taking an occasional sip from your drink I watch as your throat moves, and then your tongue flicks out to catch the stray droplet on your bottom lip. The conversation must have become more interesting. Your eyes focus in on the man with the long hair and beard. He's been talking with you about something for some time. Meanwhile, I stand in the corner of the room where you left me tied and hobbled like the bad little zebra I've been today.

The two of you break away from the others to walk over to me. I get restless. I see intent in both of your eyes. His has a strength and bearing familiar with horses of all types; yours, a loving look that says, "I want to learn to do this right." I start to shift my weight between my hooves, trying to find a balance so that I can stay in control of the situation, knowing that this will be hard.

You untie me from the hitch and release my hobbles to lead me to the center of the room. With a wary eye on you, I stand my ground, legs locked, unmoving. You lightly tap my flank with the crop.

I just roll my eye at you. I hardly felt that.

Encouraged by your mentor, you go at me with a little more arm. Thwap.

Okay, felt that one, but come on. I get kicked harder than that in the field. This time I roll my eye at him with a bit of a snort. This is ridiculous.

You try a third time. Thwap!

Hmmm. Sure, I felt that, but I don't know where you want me to go, so I lean back on one leg and give you the look of, "Where?"

Your mentor steps in. He just takes the crop and rein from you. THWAP! right on the back of my left leg and a pull forward. Now, I know where I'm going forward and round. I keep a wary eye on this man, as I do not know what he wants next. He's held my reins before, but not often enough for me know his commands. I start to pull out and slow down. THWAP! and a pull on my mouth tells me that this is wrong. I am to keep going in the circle and he wants me to go faster. I trot a few steps, then slow down to test him. THWAP! I have to trot. Slowing down just gets me hit again.

After several circuits, I am tiring, and the man can see this. He's not cruel at heart--just firm. So he pulls me in and calms me for a moment. I think I am done and start to relax.

But wait! What is he doing? He just moved the rein to the other side of my bit! He then pushes me out to go the other direction. He expects me to do it all over again? I think not!

So I move slow and pull back on the bit. He first pulls it forward, and gives me a moderate tap with the crop. I refuse to respond as it doesn't hurt and I am tired. He tries again
with a thwap. Again I refuse to go. THWAP! My black and white legs carry me forward to avoid the fourth crack of that whip, as I really am tired of being hit and trotting is better than being hit.

I try really hard to keep the trot going. Sweat is starting to pool on my back and my belly. It's getting harder to pick my feet up. My pace is slowing but my gait is still a trot. The man taps me lightly as a reminder that I'm to be trotting and I give him a slight burst of speed.

And then falter.

He reads in my body and my eye that I have given up the fight. I am tired.

Slowly, he brings me to a halt, allowing me to catch my breath. He holds my head on his shoulder as to release the weight off my feet.

You come in to join us and to take my rein from him. He then suggests that you send me round a couple more times. I look at you with pleading eyes. I'm beyond spent. You see it, but you know my spirit. You know I will do anything for my Master.

Scratching my mane, you ask me if I'm okay. Somewhere, I find the resolve to nod my head, "Yes."

And with that you try out what you have just learned.

With my rein in one hand and the crop in the other, you send me out with a firm thwap on the back of my leg and a pull on the rein. I head out at a walk. That's all I can muster. You let me coast at this gait for a lap around before you ask of more. THWAP! Deep in my zebra heart, I find the last bit of energy and pick up the gait to a trot just for you. You send me around twice before pulling me in.

Changing the rein over to the other side, you whisper in my ear, "Just three more, Girl. You can do it." I take a deep breath, gather myself up and look you in the eye. I see that you mean what you just said.

Out I go at a walk, finding that I'm at the end of my virtual rope. I'm struggling to keep my feet under me and to not fall. I have my heart and life in your hands as I know that I'm at my limits. You then ask me for the trot--thwap--and off I go.

I'm so fatigued. I lose myself to how far I went. Maybe you shortened the circuits. I do not know. I do know that you did not pull me in, but came to me and led me to the fan to start cooling me down.

I sigh. The airflow over my body is a relief after that workout. I eye the man with caution. He never hurt me, just taught me how to respect the crop and the rein, to do what he wanted. He was gentle and firm. Maybe next time I'll go easier on him.

In the meantime, I shiver with delight as you wipe me down with cool cloths to bring my body temperature back to normal. The sweat I worked up today was definitely excessive in the oppressive heat.

When you finish cooling me off, you release my bridle and caress me one more time before releasing me for the day. I have a lot to process until the next time we get to play together. Zebras never do anything the easy way, and I have a feeling the next time will introduce some other difficult challenge for us.