The Dangers of Optimism

If people were going to describe Jackson Russel in one single word, it would be optimistic. He could be on the titanic and still rave about the tunes the band were playing, a constant life motto of things could be worse, someone completely unburdened by the pessimism the world tries so hard to engrain in people.

It didn’t, however, make him stupid. He chose to be stupid.

“Easy, DeeDee. It’s just a bush.” He cooed, leaning down to stroke the stallion’s dark dappled neck that was coiled with tension, a cobra ready to strike. The horse’s entire body was stressed and taut, his head held like a saddlebreds, ears pinned forward at the shrubbery that had the audacity to exist. D4, or as his rider more affectionately called ‘DeeDee’, was all the things Jack knew he shouldn’t have brought to this tour - inexperienced, spooky, nervous, hotheaded, fiery, explosive, synonyms. And yet, here he was - sitting on a nuclear reactor of a horse in an empty sand arena somewhere in England, the sun leaving a golden glaze on the rolling countryside. It was a vastly different view to what they’d left back in Ocala, and part of him was already missing the springs and the city.

“Just take a step towards it dude, I promise it won’t eat you. They don’t serve horse in Hell’s Kitchen, you idiot sandwich.” He joked to his mount, who seemed to take the insult on board - taking one step forward before rapidly spinning on his hindquarters and rushing to the other side of the arena like a bat out of hell. Jack was still getting used to the horse having only owned him for a few months, but the small man managed to cling onto the horse until he stopped, quivering in the corner of the arena. Spending a few minutes reassuring the horse before attempting to get his stirrups bag, Jack regretted his choice of his jumping saddle over his dressage one - but come on, he’d already cleaned that for dressage and he didn’t want to do it again until he really had to. Plus, DeeDee wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic dressage horse out there, more neurotic and choppy than powerful and graceful, and Dog was hoping maybe the allure of jumps would make the horse focus on something other than the Very Scary Things in the arena. To no avail, it seemed.

Despite the ride having lasted around ten minutes, a thick lather of sweat was already building on the horse and Jack let out a soft sigh.

“He’s so, so weird with new places. He’ll come around.” A voice from the fence started, and Jack could only nod. His sister Rio had decided to accompany him on the tour, grooming for him and making sure he remembered his passport at the airport. She’d been… distant, recently. While Rio had always been one of the quieter ones out of his six siblings, ever since she’d left the army her attitude had completely changed. Quiet became reclusive, sarcastic became snappy, and Jack had been completely thrown when she’d quietly asked if she could come with him, claiming she needed an escape - from their family home, from Florida, or from the whole country - he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, I know. I was just hoping for a more productive first ride. Have you seen the competition? If he gets beat by a pony his ego will never recover.” Dog grinned, attempting to walk the horse in a small, familiar circle.

“Dog. He will not know he was beaten by a pony.” Rio sighed, running her hand over her buzzcut. Cling film covered part of her arm after her tattoo session earlier, and the silver of her piercings caught in the light. Thanks to the genetics of mixed parents the pair didn’t look all that similar, her skin a lighter shade but her eyes darker.

“He will if I tell him. Which I will. Also, one of the administrators here thought my name was fake.”

“That’s what our parents get for naming you Jack Russel. It’s like me introducing my child as Devon Rex.”

“Imagine your parents are weird enough to name their kids after their place of conception and then they don’t even pick good places to conceive. You got Rio, Santi got Santiago, and even Avalon is way better than being named after a dog.”

“Yeah. We were babies of world culture. You’re Florida bred, Jacksonville through and through. Makes for a good nickname though.”

“Please never say the word ‘bred’ in that context ever again!” Dog wailed, leading DeeDee down the fence line before asking for a trot - away from his menace of a sister. Surprisingly, it went without a complete firework display, but his strides were short and choppy - hardly the sort that would be scoring a high percentage in a few days. To be fair, he’d never really liked the phase, always being an adrenaline junkie who needed the thrill of open gallops and stopwatches. He was a champion at cross country - but a clown at dressage. It was a bit of a theme with his horses too, including DeeDee. The horse, while spooky in new places, never seemed to mind as much when he was jumping, his attention transferred to the task in front of him rather than his environment, and the jump power he had still knocked Dog out of the saddle every time. The horse had only had a few five star starts in his career, and one ended with Dog in the water combination but at least that gave him ‘good soup’ content for Tiktok. He’d first planned to take Cora, his well worn fifteen two that he’d taken to every big competition under the sun, but alas: life was useless without a little risk. Instead she stayed with his thoroughbred project back in Ocala having a few weeks off as Dog embarked (haha) on this tour.

Maybe he was regretting it. Just a tiny bit. There was now a high chance that Gordon Ramsey would know he existed solely because Dog was going to eat the finest meal of all in front of him during dressage - dirt. He hoped a few more days of settling in would mean he could get some sort of ride out of DeeDee, and the stallion’s choppy trot was better than bucking past the hedgerows.

The large horse seemed to be adjusting a little, the tension not quite as striking as before. That was until he saw it.

Gordon Ramsey.

Or, at least, a poster of him stapled onto a wooden trellis.

And the nuclear reactor exploded.