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Along Life’s Way
Smokey’s Dream:
A Fable
© 2018 Lois E. Wilson
Cowboy Buck and his horse, Smokey, had been partners for over seven
years. Smokey was satisfied with his life on the ranch. He had fresh
grass in the pasture, good hay, and his stall was dry and warm in the
winter. Also, there were plenty of good-looking fillies nearby with
whom he could flirt.
One day he saw Buck go up to the new calendar on the barn wall, pat the
January picture of a steed, and say to another cowhand, “Look at this
handsome, white unicorn. I hear they have a magical horn. If our horses
were unicorns, they could tell us where to find lost calves and predict
storms when we’re out on the range. Our lives would be much easier and
safer.”
Smokey perked up his ears. He saw the unicorn with the horn growing out
of its forehead. He told his next-door barn mate, Big Bill, “I would
like to be magical and look like that.” From that day on, he was
obsessed with becoming a unicorn. He thought it would make him more
valuable to Buck, and a magical horn would attract the mares.
One night in his dreams, Smokey was a unicorn. He soon realized there
were problems he had not anticipated in his wishful thinking. He
discovered the horn impeded his love life. It caught on the brush when
he was out on ranch rounds. But worse, he found he could not drink
water or eat grass or hay because the horn prevented him from doing so.
He began to rapidly lose weight until he lay silent in his stall. As
Roy Rogers had done with his horse Trigger, Buck took Smokey to the
taxidermist. Smokey awoke from his dream in a sweat. Big Bill asked,
“What happened? You’ve been rolling around all night in your stall. You
were snorting loudly.”
Smokey answered, “I had a dream; thank goodness it was just a dream.
Being a unicorn was terrible and demoralizing! My magic became tragic!
My horn was not magical. It was so long that it was impossible to work
or eat. The things I like to do, I couldn’t. The last straw was when
Buck brought me back to the barn from the taxidermist. He placed me by
the office door. I stood there day and night. My horn became a hat rack
when Buck tossed his Stetson on it. No more will I yearn for a
different life.”
Moral: Sometimes when one dreams of finding greener pastures, in
reality he doesn’t find mares—he finds only nightmares.
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