Roulette showed me this the day she chose to step towards me. As her fear melted into something softer, she told that while one may lose with grace, they will always win with love.
She was scared and stepped away. Her movements taut, echoing the
tension of her past. I longed to tell her I came in peace, to wrap
my arms around her trembling body and whisper into her tattered ear
all would we well. But she was scared and stepped away.
Though rescued from her painful past, Roulette’s fear still clung to
her, just as her body still carried the scars. Heart-wrenching
reminders of all she had endured.
I didn’t want to leave on these terms. My ego didn’t want to be cast
as the enemy, someone to be feared. My good intentions did not
deserve that I felt. And although upset and hurt by this all, I knew
that was not her intention for she bore no malice. And I know too
well the dangers that occur when emotions drive actions. “It’s okay”
I softly cooed and offered my upturned hand.
Still frightened, she stepped back once more. Her fear was an
invisible barrier we were yet to cross.
Recognising that grace is more important than victory it was my turn
to step away.
For several more days we played from this script. A delicate game of
Jenga. Of me stepping away before she did. An act that not only
recognised her boundaries but respected them as well.
I began to bring treats with me knowing full well she would not take
them from my hand. Not yet anyway. And so, I placed them upon the
ground before I slowly stepped away. My eyes averting hers in quiet
reverence of her space.
After so many days of retreating, I had grown accustomed to our
distant dance. To accepting that her trust would come on her terms,
if it were to come at all. But on this day, it felt different. That
unspoken void between us seemed to shift.
And then, it happened. The tension between us dissolved, replaced by
something more unifying and serene. She exuded trust, and I felt it.
I so joyously felt it.
She stepped towards me.
Although each hoof fall was infused with caution something inside of
Roulette had shifted. She even offered me a soft nicker. A tentative
greeting that caused me to smile in return – she had recognised by
face and my form.
And so a slow dance began between two different species who spoke
the common language kindness. To a quiet observer it might have
appeared as a delicate melody playing out. An ebb and flow that
recognised a growing trust.
A trust that would have developed faster had my visits not been
punctuated with those dreaded daily shot of antibiotics. But the
risk of leaving that injection out was just too great as a raging
infection still had hold of Roulette’s once putridly fly struck rear
end.
But then something happened. Something that would change everything.
I had just left Roulette bursting with a joy I struggled to contain.
But I did least I scare her. A wheetbix crumb dripping from her
chin. That lonely little crumb told so much. It told that when
Roulette heard my cheery voice, her head immediately looked up. She
came towards it in anticipation of the good things to come. I did
not disappoint. I did not disappoint.
This journey with Roulette has reaffirmed many things for me. None
the least that losing with grace carries more weight than the
often-fleeting spoils of victory. It serves as a poignant reminder
that trust, like love, cannot be rushed; it must be earned over
time, in the sweet moments of patience and surrender. There’s a
certain humility in letting go, and surrendering to what is. For the
pace of progress may not be ours to hold.
Roulette showed me this the day she chose to step towards me. As her
fear melted into something softer, she told that while one may lose
with grace, they will always win with love.
Always with love.