People often wonder where I come up with my material, assuming I must have not only a good sense of humor, but also a vivid imagination. The fact is I just happen to be able to see the funny side of things that happen to me, often as they are happening. At other times I take the opportunity to get someone’s goat. In the following story, I accidentally figured out how to work a little food humor into a horse training project with a horse I named “Ravioli.”
Occasionally a ranch will allow a guy to work an outside colt or two as long as it does’nt
interfere with your daily work. Such was the case on the O bar O ranch.
The ranch covered over seventy square miles, most of it fairly rough high desert country.
This made for making some pretty surefooted horses.
Fred brought me a filly he wanted to take to the track, but it was a little different program than usual. He was only going to leave her on the track for one season, then use her on his ranch. Because of this, he wanted her to have a good stop. He also didnt want her knowing the word whoa because competing jockeys could get a little bit of an edge by yelling whoa as they passed by.
As she was pretty well halter broke, I started driving her on the first saddling. I’d already spent eleven hours in the saddle without lunch and couldnt stop because I would lose daylight to work in. My mind was on what I’d eat for dinner as much as it was on working
the filly. As luck would have it, I was really low on groceries, and I didnt have much to choose from. As I thought about that can of ravioli, I simultaneously decided to stop the filly and said, “ravioli” instead of “whoa”.
Sometimes it doesnt take much to keep one entertained, living alone sixty miles from town. I thought it would be a good joke to teach her to stop using ravioli rather
than whoa. For the next two months, I worked at getting her on the bit like a race horse
should be, but I also worked on getting her to slide to a stop on ravioli.
When Fred showed up to take her to the track, I rode her around for him. When I was
finished I loped her by him, said ravioli, dropped the reins, and she slid to a stop. I gave
him instructions to give to the trainer and the jockey who would be riding her and off they went.
Two weeks later, Fred made a special trip out to the ranch. I gave them your instructions. he said. They laughed at your command for stopping her but went ahead and tried it. As the jock didn’tt believe me, he didn’t have a good cross on the reins and wound up
on his head. He’s been having fun stopping her since then though.
She was the only horse on the track that would stop for Italian food!
This story is from my cowboy humor book, A Million to One Odds (times five) If you enjoyed this story, the book it is from, as well as others I’ve written are now on sale for 1/2 price at http://store.sales.2lazy4u.us/index.htm