High Heels
Many little girls dream of the day when they will have a horse to call their own. I was no different. The dream did not wane just because I lived in an urban area. A child does not think of the impossibility of a horse living in the back yard. A child does not think of the feed, the mess, the shelter needed for the cold winter months. A child dreams of galloping through the streets and lanes of the neighbourhood.
Many times I asked for a horse. When I finally realized one was not forth coming, I did the next best thing. Indoors my horse consisted of an old wicker rocking chair. The only problem with this horse was that it would fall over unless I had another rider on the opposite arm rest. My friend and I would fold blankets neatly and then attach them to the rocking chair with father's leather belts. We would have makeshift saddle bags which were old purses with our belongings inside for the trip. There were times when we became so zealous during our journey over the plains that the rocking chair would flip and we would break out into loud screams of laughter. Mother would come running in admonishing us while picking up the pieces of what may have been on the bedside table.
Outdoors was by far the best when it came to having an 'imaginary' horse. My horse was called 'High Heels'. I seem to recall I had seen a story and so loved the name that I adopted it for mine. Now High Heels was a thoroughbred with a white triangle on her forehead. She happened to resemble the greatest race horse of all time 'Man O War'. I would feed her in the backyard by collecting grass from the lawn and piling it up where I had tied her up to the neighbour's white picket fence. I would get a bowl of water and place it in front of her. When no play friends were available I would saddle up High Heels and off we would go galloping down the back lanes in and around Bay Street. She was fast and fleet of foot. We covered a lot of terrain together and saw many incredible sights.
I guess it was a natural progression from imaginary play to scrapbook. There are only so many times that you can saddle up an invisible horse. Rummaging through my old musty chest, I found the old scrapbook with pictures of horses cut out from magazines. The Elmer's glue has dried somewhat, but otherwise it is in pristine condition.