Saving a Shetland Pony..... Part 4

While he drank I had a long think about what to do next. What I decided to do was to walk this lovable beast into the town of Lanjaron, which I knew was about 2 kilometres ahead .....in the direction from which the Sheltie had come from. So when he had finished drinking, I put the bowl away, locked the doors of the van, untied the rope from the tree, and we started to walk.
It was a pleasant walk. We stayed on the left side of the road facing the occasional traffic coming towards us. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. Passing cars slowed down and gave us a wide berth as they went by. Children in the cars waved at us. The horse obediently followed as I led it along by its long rope over my shoulder. And although the thought did cross my mind that the beast was strong, and could- just - bear my weight for a short distance ...... I resisted the temptation to jump on his back and ride him. Bare-back horse riding is for experts only. I have had enough troubles in the past riding horses with saddles, stirrups, and reins. So I - we - walked.
Occasionally I felt a tug of the rope. And when I looked around I saw that my horse was nibbling at some bush or plants. But he didnt linger for long, and we continued. He seemed to trust me and he was happy. And so was I, as I contemplated that Gerald Brennan must have walked this way about 90 years ago, and then wrote his famous book "South of Granada".... which was made into a charming film a few years ago. I also remembered Chris Stewart who lives around here and wrote that best seller "Driving over Lemons".
We passed by many lemon tree orchards, and eventually we came to the edge of the town of Lanjaron. I knew that it is famous as a Spa town. Natural mineral spring water gushes out of the ground there in great health-giving profusion, and hundreds of people are to be found in the many spa hotels in Lanjaron, all of them there for a 'cure' by 'taking the waters'. The first large building that we came to was a 'Balneario' spa hotel. There were dozens of elderly people sitting at tables on the terrace overlooking the road .....all quietly and unenthusiastically sipping big glasses of mineral water. They all stared in front of them.....at nothing. They were silent, sullen and morose, and looked as if they were bored out of their minds. Some were in need of entertainment I suppose, because suddenly a man stood up, pointed, and mockingly called out in Spanish......." Mira que caballo mas pequeñito"....( Look at how tiny that horse is ) and quickly the cry was taken up by many others who jumped to their feet, pointed at my horse, and in ridiculing tones shouted " Que pequeño"......"Que pequeñito" ..... and other similar remarks voiced loudly in scornful tones..
I felt a tug from the rope, and looking around, I saw that my horse had stopped again. From the look in his eyes I could see that he understood and resented the remarks. He was born in Spain. All Spanish horses are haughty and proud. They are the noblest of all animals, and they know it. Of whatever breed they might be, any Spanish horse will refuse to admit to any incompleteness of stature. Pequeñito indeed...! Then he showed his displeasure and disdain at the insult ....by lifting his long blonde tail and defecating a big pile of steaming droppings in front of the water-swilling invalids....! Then he walked on with his head held high and swished his magnificent tail from side to side. The water imbibers hooted with laughter.....and above the guffaws I heard an elderly lady croak "Muy bien hecho caballito" ......( Well done little horse ) ..... and then she cackled and cackled as the others all continued laughing, as we two disappeared around the next bend in the road.