While ministering in Scotland we would stay in bed and
breakfasts we passed. There was one we loved that was owned by Davy and Ella
who breed Clydesdales. It was delightful seeing Star, the colt, every day. The
little guy was kept by himself because the females were all foaling and Mr. Frisky
would have driven them nuts.
Davy and Ella owned several Border Collies, and one of the
jobs of their son was to comb them. He took mounds of hair off each dog and placed
it next to him so that each mound seemed bigger than the dog itself. We had
such a lovely time. Relaxing and gorgeous. Scotland!
One evening after dark my friend and I decided to take a
walk. We went out the door and walked
through the country lanes. Since it was
so late we decided not to go back the way we came, but rather to pass through
the fields to return to the house. We were walking, comfortable in the silence
between us when suddenly I heard a sound. Clop. Clop. Clop. Then
clopclopclopclopclopclop. The clops multiplied in number.
We were being followed…by a herd of Clydesdales! Now—I like horses when they are on one side
of the fence and I’m on the other. But—it’s
night! There are no streetlamps in rural Scotland…and we can see nothing. We
can only hear the louder and louder and faster and faster clopclopclopclops
behind us. Have you SEEN the size of
Clydesdale’s hooves?
“Just keep walking but don’t run. Just go. GO!”
Somehow I got out of the enclosure and into the yard of the
house. How in the world we got in the horse yard, I don’t know. Why weren’t they
sleeping in their stable?
Fortunately for every one of my crazy stories I have a
witness! This one is my traveling companion and driver, Ms. Dorothe Kauffmann,
of Edinburgh.
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