Animal Stories - A Horse called Porthos
I remember, when I was a teenager, I used to go horse riding. In the stables, which I used to go to, there was one horse in particular who left a very deep impression on me. He was called Porthos.
The first time I saw this horse, he presented a terrifying sight. The fact was, whenever anyone used to approach his stable, Porthos would immediately flatten his ears backward, and fiercely lunge at the unsuspecting “intruder” with mouth wide open, baring an impressive array of huge molars in the process.
Luckily, the bottom part of the stable door always-succeeded in standing up to the violent surge of power that was thrown against it by Porthos. Incredibly, nobody ever had the misfortune of ending up squashed within the animal’s powerful jaws (in most part thanks to the staff’s prompt warnings to all newcomers to the stables).
Eventually, my curiosity overcame my fearful grudges against Porthos. One day, I took the opportunity of sitting down for a long talk with a veteran stable-hand who had known this horse for many, many years. As I was listening to this old man, I was struck by the very sad story that unfolded about this peculiar behaviour.
Porthos used to be a very quiet and good-natured animal. In fact, he was the favourite of all the children who used to visit the stables. Over the years, the owners changed, the way the stables were maintained deteriorated…and so did the attitude of the staff. Groups of youngsters were allowed to hang about the premises to while away their time. One gang set up their “chatting corner” immediately outside Porthos’ stable. Eventually, their sick minds, having nothing better to occupy themselves with, conjured up a hideous scheme whereby they would persistently lure the poor animal with titbits of food to make it stretch its head over the stable door, and then they would burn its nostrils with cigarette-ends.
The effect on Porthos was devastating. The imprint this had on the animal’s mind was irreparable. The resulting reaction was the unrestrained bursts of anger at any human who approached its stable. However, once outside its stable, Porthos’ behaviour became, once again, docile.
Upon hearing this story, I could instantly feel my grudges against this poor animal melt away…for good. Subsequently, even when I was faced with the prospect of having a pound of flesh bitten off me, I could not help feeling compassion for the creature. My outlook, in this respect, changed completely.
Lately, I was reflecting upon this far-away episode, at a time when I felt that I was harbouring grudges against a person who persistently acted “savagely” with anybody who crossed his path. Invariably, this person’s attitude made me very angry and, I confess, I found it extremely hard to withhold my condemnations.
However, the recollection of Porthos set me thinking…
What awful story was this person burdened with…maybe from a remote past, perhaps since childhood?
Was it possible, perhaps, that even in this case I could discover deep within my soul some compassion for this person who seemingly appears so determined to hurt me…?
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