Some of my readers might be interested to know why I have a rearing horse as my profile picture? Well, I am a countryman for sure, but it's also in honour of my sweet, horsey girl Scruffy, who might well be the love of my life, although I have loved all my women in their own way.
You might think that Scruffy is a name more suited to some shaggy mutt rather than a beautiful girl and you'd probably be right, for Scruffy was the affectionate nickname I gave to my lover, although she was certainly also a cute "Lassie" as we say here in Scotland.
I first met Scruffy at the stables where she worked as a groom and she was also my riding companion when I returned to live in the South of England after having worked for a while on a livestock station in Australia. I learned to love horse-riding in the Outback and wanted to keep it up. Part of Scruffy's job was to exercise her client's horses when they were away, which was why she was able to join me on rides along bridleways winding through the beautiful English countryside.
It was myself that named "Scruffy" Scruffy, not too much to her liking at first, but it was an apt description on account of her permanently tousled, blond hair. It was dyed blond, of medium length and very soft, but with spikes and strands going off in different directions and wisps going down her pretty, little face. She looked so incredibly cute that it immediately stirred my heart and sparked the protective instinct that a big, strong guy has for a woman for whom he feels a strong attraction.
Scruffy was also full of life, probably because she was almost permanently outside in all weathers and always around animals both domestic and wild. Her cheeks glowed pink with health, along with a constant, sweet smile below a lovely pair of bright, hazel eyes. Of about 30 years old at the time, she had the slender and firm body of youth, often clad in polo shirts, riding boots and jodhpurs that perfectly accentuated her pert behind.
I became a regular visitor to the stables, partly because of their proximity to my workplace, but also due to the presence of Scruffy, as I had taken a strong fancy to the lass. She had recently broken-up with a long-term boyfriend, so I didn't make a move on her at first, but really enjoyed her company on rides and chatting to her over a coffee in the wee farm-shop that was part of the enterprise.
One summer's evening, I arrived at the stables to take out one of the stallions for a country ride, only to meet Scruffy in the yard. She was saddling a young mare for some exercise and so we agreed to ride together. It had been a lovely, warm day and the bees were buzzing in the hedgerows as we rode out beside each other. It quickly became apparent however that I would have to turn-back, as it was clear the mare had come into season, for the powerful stallion was becoming skittish in his attempts to get behind the filly.