How I Got a Horse Out of a Toilet

One June, after living in the rental house for a year, I woke up in the middle of the night and had to use the bathroom. I used the last of the toilet paper roll and in the dark, in my compulsive way, I decided I had to change it right then. I flushed the toilet and immediately turned to remove the now-empty cardboard roll from the spindle. The spring action of the spindle caused me to fumble and drop it into the toilet as it was flushing. I quickly tried to fish around for it, to no avail. Being dark and late, I decided to deal with it when morning came, gave up and went back to bed. The following morning, I used the bathroom with no problem. Maybe there won’t be a problem, I thought, naively. When I got home from work that evening, however, it was another story. The toilet would not flush; it was threatening to overflow with each of my futile attempts! I didn’t know until then that people in small towns are often unwilling to work after 5:00 PM. It’s true that the sidewalks roll up and the door bolts are thrown, promptly and firmly, by supper-time. After making phone calls to every recalcitrant local plumber in the pamphlet-sized phone-book, I now know better! “Week’n fitchoo in first-thing tummorrah,” they all said. The ones still answering their phones, that is. What was I going to do? I only had one bathroom. I really didn’t think I could make it until the next day, 15 hours later, when I got back to work. I considered going in to the hospital, which was right across the street, to use their facilities as necessary but that really wasn’t an appealing option. What the hell could I do? Then I remembered Joe. I did not know his home phone number, nor what time his business closed, so I had no choice but to try to call him at work. To my surprise, he answered. I had never said more than “hi” to him before, but I quickly introduced myself and explained my situation; he said he would make some calls and call me back. A few minutes later the phone rang. Joe had had no more luck than I had with the local plumbers, but said one of his employees’ uncles was a plumber who was willing to come out and take a look at my problem. Then he added, “They just attended a family member’s funeral,” but assured me they were still willing to come take a look. He also said he would stop by when he got out of work, as he had to pick up a few parts that they suggested they might need. About 45 minutes later, they all showed up at my house and Joe’s employee and his uncle started working on the toilet. After a few hours’ work, ultimately taking the toilet out to my front yard and turning it upside down, they never did find the spindle. However, once they rehooked it up, the toilet flushed. Meanwhile, Joe and I had spent the entire time getting to know each other better. It turned out we had quite a bit in common. He was a bright, articulate man with a, somewhat, hard-luck past. He also mentioned that his daughters enjoyed horseback riding and owned a couple horses. I then related my own love of and experience with horses. He suggested that I accompany him to the barn sometime, to watch his daughters ride. Not long after, I did. Watching the girls on their mounts and meeting their instructor, Sarah, was all it took for me to be bitten by the horse-bug again. I wanted a horse! I had always wanted a horse; I just forgot and/or gave up on that dream. By the end of that August, only two months after the resurrection of my comatose but not-dead dream and three months after the plumbing problem, I found a suitable horse, test-rode and purchased him. Then Sarah took me supply-shopping and my cousin shipped me her used saddle from Syracuse. My childhood dream had come true! I was the proud owner of a beautiful, average-sized Tennessee Walking Horse named Chase. His name was even embossed on a gold-colored name-plate on the cheekpiece of his leather halter.