# Clydesdale Rescue



## bonsaimew (Aug 9, 2010)

It was early winter in our first year at Comstock when we first began to suspect that something was amiss. While strange thumping and animal noises were commonplace in the rear of the first floor where Aaron and Thirsty bunked down, the quality and characteristics took a noticeable turn. In addition, occasional screams could be heard from Aaron’s room late at night and the following morning he would turn up with massive u-shaped black and blue marks on his face or extremities. He attempted to explain them away as commonplace household mishaps and we took him at his word. The pervasive dung odor was attributed to Thirsty, and perhaps not unjustly.

          Further suspicions arose one evening when a massive fur laden hoof crashed through the wall of Thirsty’s room and launched his weak and pale frame spinning askew into the radiator so recently christened with Schultz’s urine. He made claim that in his trip through the air he caught glimpse of a brown behemoth through the hole, but upon regaining consciousness found the far side was conveniently covered by an iconic Cheryl Tiegs poster. We disbelieved him en masse and he eventually let the matter drop.

          Revelation came one glorious morning as we munched old eggs for breakfast. The smell of them scrambled with the last of the vanilla extract awoke a dark seated passion in the beast. It reared up and brought down Aaron’s door with an irresistible double whammy and strode out. Knaus and I stood by helplessly as the first Clydesdale we had ever seen outside a commercial strode into the dining room and took to devouring our carefully prepared meal. Aaron came running out sheepish and apologetic, full of unfulfilled promises to replace them with fresh or more recently expired eggs.
A palaver was held between the three of us, Thirsty exempt as he took to sleeping more and more ever since the kick. The truth came out, bit by bit, through the course of careful questioning and torment. He had fallen in with a splinter group dedicated to the rescue of Clydesdale horses from all current ownership, and as with like programs for various species of dogs, warriors for the cause were expected to house and care for specimens in transition. He had thought to keep the effort secret to avoid our mocking fun, and with careful timing and the removal of several door frames had managed admirably. With precedent being set by Knaus’s far more destructive cat Malice it was impossible not to accept.

          Aaron was relieved to no longer be forced to sleep beneath the ever shifting beast in close quarters, not to mention an impressive defecation schedule. His frequency of showering decreased, though not to Thirsty’s level. For the rest of us, the inconveniences began to grow but initially balanced by Aaron’s jauntier attitude. He lugged about a weighty tome titled “Astounding True Facts and Accounts of International Clydesdale’s” and quoted from it incessantly. The veracity of the claims were questioned but independent research held them true.

Did you know that if the level of Clydesdale poaching in Gabon were to reach a world wide scale, the species would be extinct by 3013?

Did you know that in 1743 a Clydesdale was appointed Prime Minister of Prussia for a period of 17 days?

          The quotes were an educational experience, as was the continued presence of Francois, whom Aaron was having a challenging time finding local placement for. An inquiry from the Barksdale dog Food Company was rejected as being contrary to the spirit of the cause, as was a subsequent one from the good people at Elmer’s. An ad in the Pennysaver generated little interest, as did tacky fliers stapled cockeyed to random telephone poles. In the mean time, our lives evolved.

Did you know in 1977 a Clydesdale named Brasie May was the first of her kind to swim the English Channel?

          Thirsty was the first to suffer most and as a direct result of the initial beating. The rest of us discovered early on that strategies used to keep the others from our food had little effect on Francois. Even my pizzas covered in anchovies and onion, generally sacrosanct and unmolested in the fridge, would be wantonly removed and consumed by vociferous horse even as I beat at his haunches with my balled fists. We took to taking most meals out of the home except for Thirsty. Three times a day he would cook and bring his meal out to the coffee table, and three times a day Francois would find a new way to distract him and devour the latest offering before Thirsty could react. He grew weak and shaky, but stubbornly determined not to disrupt his routine of taking meals while enjoying reruns of ‘Quincy’. 

Did you know that teams of Clydesdales won 4 of the last 37 Iditarod’s? 

          Without warning the number of horses doubled, but the problems increased by several orders of magnitude. Another daring rescue had been made and Aaron drew the short end of the stick despite much of the membership currently supporting zero Clydesdales. Luck of the draw perhaps, perhaps. Aaron’s German obedience was ours to lament, though he now too would feel the effects as well. The state of the house, deplorable as it was to start, deteriorated quickly.

Did you know that in North Dakota, SD, Clydesdales actually achieved suffrage a full 20 years before women?

          I grew enraged on a daily basis. Sitting in the chair with high arms enjoying my stories I would suddenly hear rustling about the Christmas tree I had set up in the Florida room. Each time I would spring to my feet to find the two of them attempting to ascend it for the purposes of batting about and destroying the precious glass ornaments with which I decorated it. I had filled a spray bottle with water and vinegar and unleashed it full into their faces, but they seemed to like it. A full week before Christmas the tree was done, a gnarled mess leaning haphazardly against the glass doors, denuded of even a single bauble. I was despondent with a heart full of vengeance. 

Did you know that Clydesdales were critical to the capture of an Enigma machine in WWII in one of the craftiest submarine capers in history?

          Food became a problem. Thirsty’s large pasta dishes were enough to sustain one Clydesdale, but certainly not two. With each meal he would prepare, Francois and Bon Scott would set to battling over it through the living room as Thirsty cowered beside the couch. Growling and fur flying everywhere, the winner would quickly gobble as the loser would eye Thirsty with a cold gleam. I was the unfortunate witness the day Malice was cornered, stomped, and devoured and took no relish in reporting back to Knaus. Aaron, under threat of dire vengeance now had to lug 100 lb bags of Clydesdale chow back from Wilson Farms on his own. I asked him why he chose not to employ the sturdy horses in this endeavor. It was no choice he reported; putting the beasts to work was antithetical to the mission. His back grew stooped and bowed as 4 trips were required per day.

Did you know that Clydesdales, in their most natural form, are equipped with razor sharp retractable adamantium claws?

          With an assured food supply, elimination occurred with a frequency beyond Aaron’s ability to keep up, especially since he now spent close to 4 hours a day going to and from the store. We took great care to avoid the steaming heaps until Aaron would come through with his shovel and dust bin, but it was not uncommon to see one indented with a sock print followed by shitty tracks disappearing into Thirsty’s door. The smell grew unbearable and the infestation of large green bottle flies was no longer confined to Thirsty’s bedroom. Female visitors, rare to begin with due to constant substitution for coffee filters for toilet paper, became a thing of the past. One night, drunk on a stash of beer they had not found and consumed yet, I opened the back door and determined that they would be outdoor horses from thence on.

Did you know that Clydesdales are the creation of Poseidon, patron god of the ocean, Budweiser beer, and ironically, the spotted Appaloosa? 

          Francois and Bon Scott took up temporary residence in the garage, having chased away or eaten Wrinkly Bill, the cat and previous tenant. It seemed a peaceable solution at the outset until they both went into heat at the same time keeping the neighborhood awake with intolerable whinnying at all hours of the night. To our collective dismay the pungent scent of their pheromones combined with the cacophony was enough to attract a local wild stallion that impregnated them both. Hormonal and hungry they terrorized the neighborhood. Aaron attempted to corral them with some chicken wire to no avail. Desperate, he removed the side door entirely and discovered they would roost indoors at night given the option and freedom. We rejoined the suffering of the neighborhood at large; they bearing the brunt in daylight hours and we in the evenings. Miserable all.

Did you know that Clydesdales when viewed from an oblique angel are often mistaken for woodchucks?

           They grew fiercely territorial and harder to live with by the day. Thirsty, whom they already associated with meals, was assumed eaten following his sudden disappearance and Aaron’s discovery of a pair of grey underpants amidst the feces. We never really found out for sure and deflected all inquiries from relatives. Aaron grew nervous by the day as they tore into the bags of chow with unholy vengeance before he could even set them down. He lost two digits and part of his elbow in a single week. I tried to keep a locked door to prevent intrusion, but they found a way to pick the lock and I was thereafter treated to frequent intrusion, sometimes in moments most private. Efforts to find permanent situations for them were redoubled, but it was a hard sell. 

Did you know that the bones of heroic Clydesdales were used in the construction of the impenetrable Castle Greyskull?

          We resented the inconvenience, but in a sense we thought of them as family, secretly approving of some of the services rendered. Change was forced unexpectedly one day by Don, our landlord. Initially, he offered no objection to the great horses and even offered unique praise when learning of Thirsty’s probable fate having once identified him as trouble from the get go. Bon Scott, however, had a bad habit and a beef with Don. Coming over to mow the lawn one spring day he was surprised by a Clydesdale charging full tilt from between two houses and ramming his truck off the road. We explained the dent could be easily buffed out, but he was done; they had to go. He rang Barksdale and they salivated.

Did you know a Clydesdale was the winner of the very first episode of ‘Bowling for Dollars’ and that they were disallowed thereafter, such was the blow out?

          Blackjacking Don and locking him in Thirsty’s old room was a calculated risk, but we couldn’t bear seeing their pictures on bags of kibble. With Knaus’s unusually large supply of ether we drugged them soundly and tied them to the roof of his Cutlass. Together, we drove them down to Salamanca and released them into a local pasture, ignoring the protests of the family picnicking there. We drove back in tears, but in ensuing years swelled with pride each time the news reported on the mighty herd ravaging the Southern Tier and northern Pennsylvania. Rescued from commercial labor, they do God’s work now.

Did you know this book was written, published and distributed solely by Clydesdales?


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## The Backward OX (Aug 10, 2010)

You have a gift.

10/10


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## froman (Aug 11, 2010)

That was seriously awesome and hysterical. What more can I say? Well I'll think of something. I love the "facts" placed between every paragraph. Who knew that Clydesdales lived such interesting lives? The characters were so great, especially Thirsty before his untimely demise. He reminds me of a friend I have.

Keep it up, I want more.


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## bonsaimew (Aug 12, 2010)

Thanks so much for the feedback! More to come soon once I extricate myself some from "professional responsibility". Ugh.


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## froman (Jan 6, 2012)

Gotta bump this folks. This is the best story I've ever read on this site and the lack of responses is criminal. I actually don't even care if you respond, just read.


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## buckethead111444 (Jan 28, 2013)

You truly have a gift. Incredible story. Very well done.


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## cassie30 (Jan 30, 2013)

It was good. I didn't know anything about Clydesdale. Good overall.


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