I’ve owned horses most of my life, from the time I was a preteen until a few years ago (we won’t mention how many decades there are in between). The very first horse I called my own was a bay gelding named Mac. That was it. Just Mac. He wasn’t particularly beautiful, but he was gentle and well-behaved. By the time I turned fourteen, I was ready for a more advanced horse, and we acquired Torno – short for Tornado. Now, he was a beauty. A striking black, high-stepping Saddlebred who sailed over fences. In college, I switched from English riding to Western and Baldy was my horse of choice. She was pie-bald mare with an entirely white face and pale blue eyes.
In all three cases, my horse came with an established name, and it seemed to fit them and their characteristics. Not that I would have changed it. As a youngster, I once read in book that changing a horse’s name was bad luck, and I believed it. Over the years, my husband and I came to own many dozens of horses and mules—some of them with silly or just plain awful names. Still, I wouldn’t change them. Instead, I’d come up with a tolerable, if not cute, nickname. A few of the more memorable ones were a pony named Tinkle and an older white swayback called Dumpy. I couldn’t bring myself to call them by those terrible monikers, so I dubbed them Tinker Bell and Dimples. I figured the nicknames were close enough to not rain any bad luck down on us.
I was also tasked with the job of naming the many babies we had and any nameless horse or mule that came to us. One of my favorites was a baby mule that we had after several years of trying and much money invested. The moment I saw him at a few hours old, I pronounced him Dollar, which made perfect sense. Eighteen months later, his full sister Penny was born. I mean, seriously, what else could I call her? A dun mare we fostered produced a handsome male foal that looked just like her, so I called him Son of a Dun, Sonny for short ?
Not all the names I picked were humorous, although I admit I often leaned that way. Neither were all the names clever and original. We had our share of classics like Lady and Fancy and Patches. I named my favorite horse of all time Tiger because he was born in the year of the tiger. What mattered most is that somehow the names all came to fit the horse or mule.
Oh, and this doesn’t take into account all the names of fictional horses and bulls and even dogs that I had to come up with for books. I once had a fierce bucking bull called Orange Crush and most recently a diminutive mule I gave the name of Short Stack.
Just for fun, tell me, what would you name this silly fellow? Who knows? I just might use him and your suggestion in a future book ?
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First, being aggressive makes me think of a bully. When I think of a cowboy, I think of John Wayne in movies where his character stood up for those who needed a champion. Big Jake and The Cowboys come to mind as examples. He stands up for what’s right, does what needs to be done no matter what the personal cost, and he certainly isn’t a reckless driver. See me shaking my head over this one yet again. He may take a risk, but he’s not reckless or as Webster says, “acting without thinking or caring about the consequences of an action.”
A cowboy possesses what some today call old-fashioned manners and values. They’re willing to work hard and can be counted on to finish the job. The words “yes, ma’am” are part of their vocabulary, and more importantly, used. No matter what their age, they call their parents’ friends Mr. and Mrs. to show respect. When I wrote my first novel with a cowboy hero Big City Cowboy, (which happened to be the only idea of that type I had at the time), the inciting incident forced my hero to go to New York to model. However, I wanted a reason other than to save his ranch. I asked myself what a cowboy loved more than his ranch or his horse. The answer his mom popped into my head. For me, that’s the kind of values a cowboy possesses. He values hard work, family, his heritage, and respects women.
Saturday in July is the Day of the Cowboy. If I’d known, July 25th would’ve found me in my recliner watching cowboy movies. Then I would’ve sat on the patio with a cool drink and listened to cowboy songs.
The songs that spoke to me as I compiled my list were 
