Cricket Raised Me by Rhonda Frankhouser

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Okay, I admit it - I'm a junkie. Country everything is my drug. Music, clothes, food, animals, gardening. The whole farm lifestyle was cool to me even before Chip and Joanna Gaines made it cool for everyone else. I love it all but there was one special thing about being raised in the country that I'll never forget. Travel with me through a cherished memory.

As the youngest in my family, I spent many years as the only child on our little farm in central California. I had faithful dogs and prolific rabbits, temperamental chickens and a few stray cats to keep the mice from coming in the house, but my savior was a beautiful, steady-riding Appaloosa mare named Cricket.

I'm just gonna say it, Cricket raised me. Sounds odd, but she showed more patience with me than any human in my life. She taught me perseverance and respect. How to take care of others and how to communicate without using words. She taught me what a true friendship should be; honoring and loving unconditionally.

Picture a scrawny, towheaded kid following a twelve hundred pound horse around a fruit tree pasture, talking away like the mare would actually respond. She'd perk her soft, fuzzy ears at the right times and nibble at my face and hair to cheer me up. She was the absolute best listener a little, chatty girl could have. We were inseparable, Cricket and I, and every day she was the first 'person' I wanted to see when I woke up.

My biggest obstacle at three foot nothing and sixty pounds was trying to figure out how I was ever going to get on her back without help. But Cricket knew the answer. When it was time to ride, she'd dip her head into the rope halter, then saunter under a low lying branch and nicker. I finally figured out what she was trying to get me to do. I'd climb the tree and edge my way along the branch until I could safely climb aboard. She was a genius, right?

Cricket glided beneath me when we rode, careful not to knock me off. She'd look both ways before crossing a street and never move a muscle until she felt my small hand grasp a handful of mane to hang on. She was my security blanket. Her unique, calming scent cured many ails throughout those tumultuous teens. I'd stain her shining coat with huge monster tears while she held me in the curve of her neck. Consoling. Patient. Quiet and kind.

I owe my writing career to my sweet Cricket as she endured hours and hours of my amateur storytelling. She'd nicker and bob her head, encouraging me to continue. Looking back I'm sure it was just one kind, intuitive animal bonding with another, but I'll always be thankful for that special horse and the unconditional love and friendship she gave to me.

Did you have a horse growing up? A special friend? Maybe a dog or cat that understood you better than any other being on Earth? Tell me your story.

Thanks for listening. Rhonda

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