For the last week or so, every time I drive into the boarding facility where my two old sweeties live, I see this mare. She lives in a stall in the barn, but during the day she’s turned out in a paddock.

She’s always in the same place – in the corner, butt up against the fence.

My husband calls it the gunfighter position.

No one is going to sneak up on this girl.

No surprises for her.

One hundred percent in control of her surroundings.

It seems this mare and I have something in common.

I too am most comfortable in the gunfighter position. It shows up in my choice of seats at a restaurant. If I have the chance, I will always pick the chair in the corner.  The one where my back can be against the wall, and I can see what’s coming at me.

Until my husband pointed it out some years ago (and gave me the term I’d never before heard) I had no idea I was doing this.


That’s what I was.

But when I tuned in, I had to acknowledge that he was right on the money.

I do choose the gunfighter chair.

And when I’m not able to get that seat, it doesn’t feel right.

I have this slight feeling of unrest.



Like something isn’t as it should be.

I’ve tried to figure this out, but I always come up lacking.

There has never been even one time in my life where someone has caught me unawares at a restaurant. I have no reason to be so darned vigilant about my surroundings.

No fistfights. No arguments. No gunfights. (Thank goodness!)

I’m really a gentle, non-violent person.

So this gunfighter chair has me baffled.

Yes, I did grow up in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

And yes, I was raised on cowboy movies.

Who remembers Cheyenne Bodie?

My sister, my cousin and I were crazy about this television show. And watching the video clip on You Tube, I remember why.

Clint Walker was one gorgeous hunk of cowboy.

Ladies, let’s take a moment to recover our composure!

Okay, back to the issue of the gunfighter chair.

Hardwired into my developing ten-year-old brain I suppose.

What chair do you choose?

That is if you have the opportunity?