Walk on, Cappie girl.

(Big Andalusian hoofbeats here. One-two-three-four. Clip-Clop-Clip-Clop.)

OK, Cap. TTTTTTTrrrrrrrroooootttttttttttttttttt! (Trot, please.)

(A two-beat gait. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.) We are cruisin' now.

Brrrrrrrr... It's chilly. The sun's almost down!

Wait a minute, Cap.

EEEeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssssssyyyyyyyy. (Please slow down.)

Where's Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler dog?

(Heavy panting here.)

You asked for it, Matilda.

(A slight lift of the rein.)

CaaannnTER! (Canter please, Caprichosa.)

We roll forward on a wave of pure enthusiasm. A clipper ship on land. The andalusian's white sails billow in the high desert air, her flowing tail is our rudder. We waltz together over red swells of earth, no longer gravity bound. CLIP-clop-clop. CLIP-clop-clop. CLIP-clop-clop.

Woo-HOO! The three of us are heading home.

.