Arena Tracks by Penny Schlagel: Saige

I’m going to give ya’ll full warning.  This will be only the first of many stories about the adventures of my friend, Saige.

Saige Cunningham came into this world as a tiny ball of fire and she hasn’t stopped moving since that June day in 2014. I first met Saige as a two-year-old trying to help set barrels, (in her socks nonetheless) at a barrel race I produced. Her mother, Chelsie, was trying to ride three head and keep an eye on the two-year-old.  Saige was a swift little bunny and got away from her, making a beeline to the arena, like any good cowgirl would.  After that we became fast friends and I cherish that kid like no other. This is the latest in the many adventures of Saige.

The Cunninghams recently built a new house with Saige’s bedroom on the second floor.  Saige was up in her new room playing with her friend Whitley when she glanced up and saw that the steers were out and headed across the road. Saige immediately sprang into action. In full Spiderman mode, she climbed out the window, slid down the porch overhang then somehow dropped to the ground without breaking any bones or tearing down the eave spout. From there it was a 50-yard sprint to the “patience rack” where her parents, both horse trainers, had tied their daily string of training horses. Not missing a beat, Saige climbed onto three-year-old Chex My Guns (her Short Stirrup entry for the NRHA Futurity), like a spider monkey scaling a rubber tree, and took off at a run on him bareback, riding with a halter. For her part, her friend Whitley calmly closed the window behind Saige and went back to the work of play, neither shocked nor concerned that her best friend had just jumped out a second story window.

Saige and Whitley’s parents weren’t exactly slacking. Dallas Cunningham and Blake Baade were horseback and already hot on the trail of the cattle. Chelsie Cunningham and Riley Baade were following in the side by side and only mildly stunned to see Saige go streaking by to save the day: blonde hair flying, stuck to the back of that horse like a sand burr sticks to your saddle pad.

All ended well. The steers were gathered and put back in the pen. Saige survived, and tied up the three-year-old before she wandered back upstairs where Whitley, a little less reactive and more reflective than her friend, continued to play. Not a one of the six people there that day thought anything was even slightly out of the ordinary, which makes me love the story even more. When I asked Saige how she got down from the overhang, she just said, “I don’t know. Want me to show you?” Nah. That’s ok baby girl.  I’ll just use my imagination.