A Home for Sixie
by Jeff Rutkowski

I was sitting on the grassy ground of a large field, my six-legged steed close by nibbling the blades contentedly.
If you're thinking, "Hold on here, six-legged steed?", I can explain. My memory of the past few days is foggy so I'll relay what I can remember.
I purchased Sixie at a livestock show. What a six-legged mount was doing there let alone how it wasn't noticed by any news crews, I have absolutely no idea. I had intended to ride him back to my house. The funny thing was, I couldn't for the life of me recall its whereabouts. I could picture my home clearly in my mind but the address and surrounding landmarks were nothing but a blank. I could also remember receiving an invitation to a party at a hotel. I guess I rode Sixie to the location but, that to had been swallowed up by the cerebral fog.
The blurry memories of the party gave way to Sixie being scared half to death by a trip up to my room in the elevator, the fear apparently causing him to urinate all over the floor and my riding gear that I had taken off before bed. I had done my best to mop up the lake with the towels the hotel provided but, eventually admitted defeat and called room service to assist me in this endeavor.
I beat a hasty retreat, carefully leading Sixie down the stairs and out the hotel doors. The last thing I remember before being dropped off here was climbing up into the saddle and riding Sixie to this field.
I stood up, leaving the plastic bag containing my soaked gear on the ground and approached the animal. He lifted his head when he sensed my presence and swallowed the few blades of grass he had extricated from the soil. I stroked my hand along the downy fur of his muzzle and began talking to him in hushed tones.
He appeared to understand as I continued speaking, blinking and snuffling occasionally as if adding to this conversation. I let go of his muzzle and gazed at him expectantly. He just sighed and took a few paces forward as if to say "This is where I think home should be, what more can I do now?"
That wasn't any help. I'd never be happy riding around with nowhere to go. I needed to wash my urine-soaked gear and I didn't see a washing machine anywhere in this field.
Fortunately, he was still wearing the saddle. I retrieved the plastic bag, wincing as the sour smell of urine hit me in the face. I climbed aboard and guided him out of the field toward a quiet road. He baulked at first but, gradually began a slow forward trot.
We traveled for what seemed like hours when I saw a building up ahead. If it was a laundromat, I was out of luck since I didn't think I had any money on me. As we approached, I could see it was a larger than average house. I guided Sixie over to the side of the road and behind some trees to keep him from view of any potential residents who might not take too kindly seeing a six-legged animal with a saddle on its back in their front yard.
I dismounted and carefully walked over to the front steps. Since my boots had been within the gear Sixie had soiled, I wanted to be extra careful not to step on anything that might injure me. I pressed the red button beside the door, hoping the bell would signal to whoever was inside. Shuffling sounds could be heard faintly beyond the door and a woman's face appeared at the window.
"What the hell do you want?", she demanded of me.
I tried to collect my thoughts and form a coherent answer to this. I was still in my pajamas as I couldn't wear the soiled gear. "This might sound strange but, I wondered if I could use your washing machine.", I told the woman.
She scowled and stretched out her middle finger in an unmistakable gesture before disappearing into the house once more. Wow, a-plus for congeniality. This obviously wouldn't work. I returned to Sixie, mounted, and led him down the road in search of someone who might at least be able to recommend a place to stay temporarily.
I led Sixie into a wooded area, hoping to find a river so I could park him upstream of me and at least attempt to rinse out my gear. I couldn't see a river, but a small stream within the depths of the woods. That would have to work. Sixie approached the water and I dismounted, my socks getting all muddy as soon as I landed on the bank. Oh well, yet another thing I had to wash. Fortunately, there were trees with branches low enough for me to hang the wet clothing on.
I carefully unbuckled the saddle and pulled it from around Sixie's body. A convenient tree branch made a nice place to hang it for the time being.
Sixie splashed into the water until it reached his underside and began to drink as he waded around. At least he was occupied. I waded into the ice cold water and held the plastic bag open so the water flowed inside. It might take a few dunking's to get the thick garments passably clean, but I wanted to at least look presentable if I didn't want to sleep on the mossy ground. Sixie looked big enough to stand over me, sheltering me from unwanted disturbances from above, so there was that bit of reassurance.
I continued agitating the clothing through the flowing water until the grime was mostly gone. A nearby tree had branches just low enough to function as a hanger for the night and I took full advantage of the opportunity. Sixie was happily bobbing up and down in the water, kicking up a spray with his hooves and making a fool of himself. I found his antics amusing and chuckled to myself as I watched him submerge his plump body, leaving only his head above the water.
Let him have his fun, I thought as I smiled. We had a lot of traveling to do the next day and I wanted him to be as well-rested as possible.
There was an area near the bank of the stream that looked like a good place to sleep for the night. Since I didn't have any blankets or pillows, and I wasn't about to use the drying clothing, I whistled for Sixie. He stood up in the middle of the stream and waded onto the shore, giving himself a vigorous full-bodied shake that sent droplets of water flying in all directions.
Fortunately for me, I was out of range of the torrent of water so I only felt the occasional droplet hit me. I stepped out of the icy water and joined my companion on the shore. His coarse fur was drying fast and he was busy eating the native grass in the area. I sat down on a large rock and ran through my plans for the next day.
If my riding gear was dry by the time the sun rose, which it most likely wouldn't be, I could wear it for extra warmth and security atop the saddle. I didn't know where to go since I didn't officially have a home. At least, not a home where Sixie thought one existed. My thoughts drifted back to the experience at the hotel. I clearly remembered buying and riding Sixie to the gathering. What had I done before that? Where had I lived?
As I mentioned previously in this story, I could picture the house clearly. I even remembered the years I spent living in the home. Well, not all the details. It was more like a an experience without the actual experience. An almost programmed knowledge of things having been a particular way but not being able to pick out specific details.
Sixie had apparently finished eating and was now standing next to me, rubbing his head against me and snuffling quietly hoping for some affection. I reached up and started stroking the coarse fur covering his head as I continued to think. I had to have paid for the hotel room with money and they usually asked for a form of identification. I had none of these things on my person and didn't know the first thing about how to obtain them. My thoughts gradually slowed as Sixie basked in all the attention I was giving him. To be fare, the unfamiliar experiences within the confines of the hotel weren't something that he could just get over. I stood up and guided him to the place I spotted earlier.
I relaxed on the ground as best as I could and, sure enough, Sixie positioned himself so his bulk was suspended above me on his six legs. I didn't sleep well that night. The ground wasn't comfortable at all despite its appearance, and Sixie's body generated too much heat for my liking. Sleep came in bursts and eventually, a glimmer of sunlight reached my eyes as morning finally arrived.

I rolled out from under Sixie and got to my feet, feeling my back pop. The saddle was hanging in the place where I had left it. Close by was the still damp clothing I had dunked in the stream less than twelve hours ago. Sixie helped himself to some more grass and small plants, but I had nothing at all to quell the hunger I knew would be upon me shortly.