I had a wild idea to keep Kats from being bored, ride horses to the wedding — win the craziness award. The venue wasn't keen, so we rethought the plan: a Friday horseback tour would be just fine for me, man.

We showed up dressed in boots and hats, the cowboy-movie kind, Kats in her flag shirt, flag-themed boots — a matching set, designed. They swore she'd make their Instagram, all red and white and blue — I wore my Updog shirt and waited. "What's updog?" "What's up with you?"

Maggie from Elk Mountain Riding was our guide that day, she's a Newland girl who just returned from north of Frisco Bay. Bear was mine, an older horse, black-coated, slow and sound, Gus was Kats', brown and small, not the calmest one around.

We climbed up hills and ambled down, the start as good as gold, Bear the old man host of mine — or so the story told. We stopped atop a grassy rise and snapped a pic or three, the valley spilling green below as far as eyes could see. Then down we went to find a creek that bordered on the field, the pasture where they spent their nights, the home the mountains sealed.

Maggie tried to walk him over; Bear walked right back across, she lined him up and tried once more — that black horse was the boss. Two-for-two he won that round, he gave the creek a pass, no give in that old rascal, just stubborn mountain sass.

So Maggie called for backup — Bear had earned a closer eye, another guide took up his reins and walked him up on high. Halfway up the hillside and it looked like all was well, we lined up to keep moving — then ol' Bear said, "Go to Hell"

Then all at once that grizzly spun 'round and changed his mind, and launched into a flat-out gallop, leaving calm behind. "Whoa!" I'm yelling, "Whoa!" yells Kats, both running down the hill with Gus tucked in right alongside, we're trying not to spill

Somehow we both stayed in the saddle, somehow kept our seat, and the horses slid to a halt on four hard-skidding feet. And where'd they finally plant their hooves and let the dust go clear? Just past that very creek that Bear didn't want to clear

The guides agreed that Bear was done, and friend we were too — we love a little excitement, but that's enough for me and you. Great fun and better pictures, and a story we can't beat, so we climbed down, tipped our hats were glad to be on our feet

So holler Whoa, Bear, Whoa… and hang on for the show — some afternoons your horse decides, and all you say is Whoa. Great day, great ride, great Bear — now time to call it a day, we'll hang our boots up for a while and let ol' Bear go play.