Last night I went with my friend Heather to the Alaska Equine Rescue Auction. We go to this every year – I didn’t go last year because it was after we left on our trip.

It’s generally a good time, and the cause is a good one. Sometimes horses need help because they’re either being abused or neglected, and this organization attempts to provide for them. This yearly fund raiser is central to their efforts.

As in previous years, there was an auction, a silent auction, a make-an-offer table, and a raffle for gift certificates. I often run into old friends, and converse with them about what’s going on horse-wise. I never tire of this.

I noticed that this year, the bidding table contained several Breyer horse model statues, and underneath, a small wooden stable. Seeing both, I had to restrain myself from grabbing a few of the horses, and playing with them. The impulse was tangible, and hard to fight off. But I did it because I’m an adult, and adults aren’t supposed to do these things.

Seeing the statues took me back to when I was a kid. I owned my share of Breyer models – for several years I would get one for my birthday. They then cost $2.00 each. By the time I was eleven, my herd included several mares, stallions, and foals. And yes, I spent hours rearranging them and creating my own herd dynamics.

They all had names –Fury, Flicka, Bing, and Brownie included. When they got sticky, I wiped them all down with a washcloth. They never got dusty.

Right before the auction, I heard a woman suggest to a man that they put in bids for a few of the figures, to which he said, “she already has enough of those.” I could not help myself. I turned to him and said “You are heartless!”

As it was, the bidding on the models (which were auctioned off in groups of twos and threes) was fairly intensive and competitive. I did not bid because, as I said, I now have four, going on five of the real thing. Actually, if I had a lot of money, I would have bid on a vintage gray Arab colt, because I had one like it as a kid.

At one point, I looked over at the child whose Mom had won the high bid on the stable – she was busily moving her new statues into and out of the stalls.

I don’t know what became of my herd. It very well may be in a box in a garage in Rochester, New York. I currently have one model. It’s sitting on a kitchen counter. My mother gave it to me as a Christmas present. It’s an Icelandic, and it resembles Signy. It even has her kindly eye. The one difference is that the statue has a white face.

As for the real thing – well, she is bagging up nicely, and resting, spending more time off her feet. I took her for a walk this morning, and she enjoyed herself. I let her and Tinni and the goats graze on the sprigs of grass that are now appearing by the roadside.

Last night, Heather and I stayed until the auction’s conclusion. Heather went home with a saddle, books, and Legos, and I went home with books, magazines, lead ropes, and a helmet. Pete noticed that the helmet snap is broken. Phooey.

Well, maybe next year, I’ll find a better one.

Next: 143. 4/30/12: Eulogy for a Chicken