My friend Ted and I were out hiking in the woods. I was a little depressed over my losing my job as an English teacher and felt I needed the fresh air to clear my mind.
Well, on our hike, we came across something so incredibly sad, it put to bed all of my own problems. There, lying on the trail, was a beautiful and majestic Appaloosa stallion lying on the ground. It had obviously been there for some time and was nearing death. Vultures, silhouetted in the crisp blue sky, circled above.
I looked at the horse; he looked at me. We had an understanding. He wanted us to put him out out of his misery. But before I raised my fist, the stallion rested his head, closed his eyes, and whinnied his last.
Somewhat relieved, I told Ted what we must do now: we had to make sure.
My friend was shocked. He looked over his shoulder frantically “Who,” he demanded, “Who should beat this dead horse?”
I looked him in the eye, placed one hand reassuringly upon his shoulder and said:
“You and I, Ted.”