Clare Cline

My cousin, Anna, was what some may call a "horse girl" She was obsessed with horses. She would draw them, ride them, and watch horse-themed documentaries. I never had a legitimate problem with horses; however, I always thought they were creepy. Their eyes bug out, their teeth are huge, and their limbs seem far too small to be able to support their massive bodies, and not to mention, they can cause serious injury. Last summer, my family took a trip to hike at Glacier National Park. When my parents told us that we could go horseback riding in the mountains, I believed that I could put my distaste for horses aside, granted I was only thinking about the great photo opportunity it would be for Instagram. When the day came to ride, I began to grow increasingly anxious. I told myself, "These horses are trained for tourists to ride. You're going to be okay". I was wrong. As soon as I mounted my horse, I began to cry, and I continued to cry for the entirety of what would be a two and a half hour ride through the rough terrain of the mountains. To make matters worse, the guides told me that Joey, the horse I was assigned, was a troublemaker. "Troublemaker" was an understatement. Joey liked to bite the other horses in the ass and run off the trail unexpectedly. As much as I have tried to bury the memory deep into my subconscious, my dad finds it humorous to bring up the pictures of my family, smiling on their horses and me, miserable. To this day, I don't know why I reacted the way I did. I do not have some deep seeded childhood trauma involving horses. All I know is that I will not be going near horses any time soon.