Horse Crazy Litmus Test

By Melody Tapprich

There is no test for horse crazy, or cure. One woman's nightmare is another woman's adventure. Growing up a girl in the sixties, crazy about animals but realizing I was different than other children, I struggled through life until at 38 I finally found out what the issue was. This was followed by many years of suffering until I came to peace with my differences as well as was determined to succeed despite them. I know I'm not alone in what I've gone through, many others suffer as I did. There are so many stories that could be told. Stop and listen to each person's story in your life and you will learn a lot from each one. Really look at people, dignify each one. You don't know what they're going through or have been through. Thanks for letting me tell mine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melody Tapprich
• Release date: Jul 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201316723

Book preview

Chapter 1

It started with dogs. I grew up in Pennsylvania just outside of Philadelphia. We would go to visit a farm where our good friends the Dallas's lived. Out of all the animals on that farm the only animals I remember are the dogs. There were two of them, Basset Hounds. Daisy and Duke. I loved Daisy, she was a beautiful dog with soft long ears and very sweet natured. I was petrified of Duke. I don't know if he had soft ears. He would come after me barking so ferociously that I'm pretty sure I climbed right up on Dad's shoulders. I'd make Dad carry me all the way into the house. Duke is probably the reason I don't remember any other animals on that farm. I wouldn't leave the house alone and go anywhere I was so afraid of him.

I lived in Pennsylvania for the first ten years of my life. We had no pets at home. I remember begging my parents for an animal. Any animal but Duke. We would go to Southern Illinois almost every summer to my maternal grandparents farm where there were so many animals I was thrilled. My grandfather grew up hunting and fed his family that way so he had a pack of hunting dogs. They acted ferocious when we first got there but all but one were pretty nice it turned out. The oldest one was grandpa's special pet and he was grouchy and would bite if you tried to get in grandpa's chair or pet him. Grandpa used weiner Dachshund dogs to hunt mostly. He said they were the best little hunting dogs unless they got in a hole and he had to dig them out. They wouldn't come out without their varmint.

Mom says when I was two years old and we were at my Grandparents farm I would sit on the back rock stoop and hold corn in my hands for the chickens and they would come up and eat out of my hand. I would pet them, then they'd lay their heads on my lap and they just loved it. They were not tame chickens. I've always loved chickens. Unless it was that one hen who sitting on a nest of eggs wouldn't let me reach under her and get the eggs without pecking me. I solved that problem later in life by getting a can and putting it over her head just long enough to get the eggs without being pecked. It was so satisfying to hear her peck, rat a tat, inside the can while I grabbed eggs fast as I could. Some hens were smart though and still got me.  Most were gentle but there was always that aggressive one that scared me.

When I got older I'd see the hens with a bunch of fluffy chicks running around and I'd want to pet the chicks. Whew talk about a flogging. The chicks would run and hide under things so I learned to get a stick to ward off the hen and watch where the chicks went. I never hit the hens, just kept them at bay till I could reach under and grab a chick and run like crazy. Otherwise I'm sure I wouldn't have any eyes. I would sneak those chicks into the house at night and sleep with them in the feather bed upstairs. I never squished a chick. When Grandma found out she'd make me go find the right hen and give her the chick back.

Sometimes Grandma would have a box full of chicks in the kitchen under a heat lamp and those were so much easier to sneak. Less fear involved.

Then I graduated to wanting a piglet. I was warned as well as knew the hogs were dangerous. Grandma had been tore up by a mean old sow that had a litter of piglets in the barn overnight and she went in not knowing it. So I waited till a piggy got close to the gate and reached in and grabbed it. It was so little, cute and pink. It could squeal so loud! Grandpa had hundreds of hogs. I think everyone of them came after me. I ran as fast as my legs would go. I thought they were going to tear the gate down. I snuck upstairs and slept with the piglet too but soon had to go give it back as it was hungry.

I pleaded for a chick or two or a piglet to go home with us but Mom always said no. We lived in the suburbs of Philadelphia, so we couldn't have animals. Mom being raised on that big farm really didn't want the work or mess involved either I'm sure. She worked hard all the years of her growing up on the farm and it just wasn't her cup of tea. Dad grew up with a couple of well trained big dogs in the house in Philadelphia but he was also not much of an animal person. He had allergies from the time he was born so it was understandable they didn't want animals. As a child I didn't understand at all. 

When it came time to go home to Pennsylvania I'd hide a couple of chicks, a puppy and maybe a piglet under the back seat of the VW van. My Grandpa knew it and would be snickering. Mom had four of us kids and I don't know how she knew it the first time I tried it. You'd think she'd have been too distracted. I had four children myself later and I know I would've missed it. But she looked all through the van and found them every time. It wasn't my Mom's first rodeo. Now that I think back I think someone told her. 

Chapter 2

Out of four children I was different. Not just the animal thing. I can remember from the time I learned to talk I was told please be quiet. I talked non stop. I'd try to be quiet but it was a driven thing I couldn't control. I'd interrupt people, talk over people. When we went to the movies, which wasn't often, if the scary music started I'd turn around in the seat, stick my rear in the air, hide my head and cover my ears. This was at Disney movies like Bambi. Someone would say it's just make believe but it was real to me.

I would get angry at the drop off the hat and the next minute I'd be fine. I'd tell people off that were way bigger than me and my older brother, Scott, would defend me and get in trouble. I'd get super excited about things or events coming up, like a wedding I was looking forward to so much. By the time the day arrived I was sick to my stomach. We made it to the wedding and I got to see the bride dance down the aisle. She was Puerto Rican and wore a gorgeous red dress. Then I got sick. Dad had to take me home. I was so upset. Many years later I found out why I was so different from the other children. 

Chapter 3

When I was ten we moved to Arkansas. Newton County in the middle of nowhere. It was my favorite place to be. In Pennsylvania we were outside Philadelphia in a town called Hatfield. There were six of us and we lived in a little two story yellow house.

In Arkansas we moved into the old post office general store building in Swain. It was January 1976. We had a wood burning stove but this building was so cold. Dad took apart some of the wall and the only insulation was old newspaper.  The house on the hill behind had burned so someone turned the old general store into living quarters but it sure was not much. There were over two acres. The water for our house came from a well on the hill. The second well never ran dry and it was at the bottom of the hill. You couldn't drink from the lower well but you could use it for other needs when the top well ran dry. It was contaminated from animals being above it for many years. This is important to remember.

Chapter 4

As we were moving in, a Siamese cat showed up. I fed her, petted her and she stayed. I was so happy. Turned out she was a girl and pregnant. I was ecstatic. I saw her belly getting bigger and her milk glands filling up. I watched her so close I was able to see her have her kittens. Her name became Momma Kitty.

Momma Kitty was a great mouser so that made Mom happy. Only thing was she would leave the remains right in front of the door. You had to watch your step.

A lot of times when Momma Kitty caught a mouse she didn't kill it right away. She'd play with it or let her kittens play with it. I didn't care for that at all. I didn't realize at the time that when she caught the mouse she'd give it a bite that would eventually kill it but she could still play with it as it tried to get away. So if I could I'd get the mouse away from her and try to nurse it back to health and let it go. She understandably didn't appreciate that so I got quite a few scratches and bites from her. I've always been a stubborn person and wouldn't give up easily. Some mice made it and some didn't. The majority didn't. I remember