From: ratty@horse.net
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
Subject: Unhappy  )M, horse)
Date: Tue, 20 Feb 1996 05:57:40 GMT

			       Unhappy

	A hungry mosquito flew past Jack's left ear and hovered in
front of his face, bobbing and weaving, then buzzed downward to his
left hand, which was placed gently on his mare's back. Jack continued
to thrust into Gypsy, not wanting to let the insect interrupt the
rhythm, but as the parasite landed on his arm he stopped and slapped
at it, crushing the bug. He brushed away the tangled lump of arms and
wings, and then suddenly lost the desire to continue to make love to
his horse. Too many distractions, too many noises, both real and
imaginary, took his mind from his beautiful mare. He stood behind her,
erection fading, ardor giving way to concern. Was that a snap? A
rustling of weeds from behind...

	Jack often took his love on gentle strolls past the back of
his property and across a small creek. Among the tall oak trees and
grass they would settle and have light picnics in the shade, confident
of their solitude. Thereafter, among the birds and the flowers, the
two would share their passion for one another. He could not tell her
how much he loved her with any hope of her understanding his words,
but, as he looked into her brown eyes, he saw her love for him. She
could not tell him either; they shared a love beyond words, an
indescribable, primal love. Jack hoped his scratching her ears, the
nose rubs, all the special attention he gave to her conveyed how he
felt. Gypsy's quiet nuzzling and nibbling and her snorts and whinnies
when he approached were always reassuring.

	Jack spun around and in one motion attempted to pull up his
pants and zip his fly. His eyes met the wide open eyes of a tall
younger man. Next to the man was a casually dressed woman in jeans who
held a young tow-headed child in her arms. Jack thought quickly of the
possibilities. Did they see? He tucked in his shirt, still looking
down. No one said anything for several seconds.

	"This is my property," Jack said, forcing a smile on his red
face. "All the way from here to my house out that way," he said,
pointing. Jack's heart raced and his mouth felt dry.

	"Excuse me, this is our property. We just bought it," the
young man said, taking a step back. The woman grabbed the man's arm
and mumbled, began walking back in the direction from which they had
come. The young man turned and followed, looking back once. A video
camera dangled by a strap from his left hand. Fear shot up Jack's
spine. Gypsy had turned around to watch. Someone bought the land here,
Jack thought to himself. Checking it out, they were. I told them where
I live.

	After leaning against his mare, Jack saddled her and rode her
slowly back to his house. He could not see into his future. He dreaded
tomorrow. Would those people do something? He didn't want to sleep.

				* * *

	Jack could not remember his nightmares, but knew he slept
fitfully from the sweat on his shirt and the condition of his bed. A
pillow sat on the floor near the doorway, ten feet away. He put on
shorts and a tank top and headed straight out the back to see Gypsy.
The sun had just risen in the east, and cast a red glow on her that
mixed with the brown of her coat. She looked a horse cast of bronze.

	By noon Jack had at last been able to eat: a gingerbread
cookie and a can of Sprite. Nothing seemed to want to go down easily,
especially past the lump in his throat. He resisted the urge to cry,
but the fear made him shake and sweat. The phone rested quiet on the
wall in the kitchen, and no authorities had yet knocked on the door
wanting to speak to him. After not seeing Gypsy since he had fed her
in the morning, he opened the back door and stepped outside, careful
not to fall because of his weak knees and shaking body.

	A chill went up his back despite the warm day. As he took the
last step of the stairs he heard the doorbell. Jack's pulse pounded in
his ears. He put both hands on the handrail and struggled back up the
stairs and into the house. Cold sweat formed on his brow and arms. He
thought of pulling back the curtain to see who was there, but as he
walked through the family room he saw a black and white car parked in
the driveway.

	His shaking hand grasped the doorknob and turned, but he had
to squeeze tightly because of the slick sweat on his palms. One last
swallow and he opened the door.

	"Mr. Gaffney?" said the deputy. Jack's face showed no
expression. Jack uttered back a monotone "Yes?"

	Jack was escorted, in hand cuffs, into the back of the patrol
car.

				* * *

	A deputy at the station let Jack call a friend of his. The
phone rang once, twice, half of a third time.

	"Hello?"

	Jack took a deep breath and tried to speak, but no sound came
out. He drew another, then, in a feeble voice, said hello to his
friend. "Hello Pete, it's Jack."

	"Hi Jack, how are ya? Gonna come over tonight? Sandra will be
here... "

	"No, no. Hey, I need you to do me a favor... "

	"Are you all right, Jack? You sound scared or something."

	Jack took another deep breath. "I need your help... will...
could you take Gypsy for me for a while?" Jack's voice trembled and
cracked.

	"Uh sure, but why? What's wrong? Tell me... "

	"Not yet. I just need you to pick her up tonight and take care
of her for a few days, that's all. Something's come up."

	"Where are you now? Are you in trouble or something? I can
help, Jack. Please tell me."

	Jack swallowed hard and pursed his lips. "Just take care of
her for a while... you do have the room, don't you? I'll pay you for
all this... "

	"Jack, would you please tell me... " Jack said goodbye and
hung up the phone.

				* * *

	In exchange for the family and the District Attorney dropping
charges, Jack had agreed to counseling. A spotless record and his
service to the community landed him that perk. The counsellors to whom
Jack had lied about how he felt about the horse ("I don't know what
got a hold of me... " "I was curious... ") felt he could actually be
reunited with his pet. They would probably not have believed the
emotional aspect of his relationship with Gypsy. Jack knew it was best
that he keep that to himself, lest he lose her. He turned the key in
the front door and walked into his house, ten days from the arrest.
The happiness with which he approached every day had been dulled, but
so long as he had Gypsy, he was fine. He tried to imagine how she
acted without him - they had never been away from each other. Jack knew
her cycle well enough to know she had been in season most of the time
she was gone. Gypsy tended to be the aggressive one in the
relationship at those times.

	Jack walked into the kitchen, not particularly wanting to look
at the ten day old mess or the old food in the refrigerator.

	To his surprise, the kitchen was clean, and the old food
looked to have been taken from the refrigerator. Taped to the kitchen
counter was a large envelope with his name on it. He recognized the
writing as Peter's, who apparently did Jack the favor of cleaning up.
He opened up the envelope and pulled out a hand written letter.

Jack,

	Regardless of why you were in jail (and I know why, now) I
wish you would have let me help you out. We've known each other a long
time, my friend. Don't think what you did would change how I feel
about you... you are important to me.

	I took Gypsy the night you were arrested, but I am very sorry
I have to tell you all this. Thursday night she had an accident. All
the time she was at my place she seemed almost angry, almost nervous.
By the next day she was kicking at the stall and at the other
horses... I never knew she was this way. She always had her nose
pointed in the direction of your house - I swear if I had let her loose
she would have run straight for home. That's a funny thing to do for
an abused (I'm sorry to have to use that word, but I don't know what
else to call what you did to her) horse, but she wanted out. Thursday
she was very violent - I had to keep her away from the other horses and
stick her in the old stall at the south end of the land. She kicked
the thing so hard she broke some of the vertical boards, but one of
the boards gave way so easily both her feet look to have gone right
through them. When she tried to land on her feet, her abdomen landed
on a board that was still stuck in the ground, a part of the wall.
When I found her she had lost a lot of blood, and the vet said it was
too late to do anything.

	The letter went on a few more lines, but Jack set the letter
down. The lump in his throat returned. Looking out the kitchen window
he could see the area where Gypsy spent her days. People didn't
understand, did they? They had no idea. >Get another horse<, they'll
say. They won't understand.