Whinny
Connie WHINNIED at me today.*
Jenny’s own horses live in their own little row of stables at the furthest end of the yard, and Connie is at the further end of that row (next to the chickens).** I don’t know what her normal schedule is, but she may be used to clattery leather riding bootsteps coming through the main barn toward her in the mornings being for her. But she came to the front of her stall, put her head over the door, pointed her ears at me–there wasn’t anybody else around to choose from–and whinnied. It wasn’t a ohmigod-there-was-a-tiger-just-through-here-a-minute-ago-come-and-protect-me whinny, nor a I’m-hungry-and-they’ve-shortchanged-me-again-and-a-grass-belly-is-quite-attractive-in-a-mare-of-my-mature-years whinny. It was a hi-how-are-ya whinny, and it might even have been a hi-are-we-going-to-Do-Stuff? whinny. I admit I’m not perfectly sure that she’s learnt yet that I’m the Mean One and she only gets carrots after the ride with me . . . but she did hang around to be petted and put her head through the halter without being bribed.
One of her not so negligible virtues is that she likes being groomed and fussed over. For those of us who like horses better than we like riding***, a horse who does not enjoy being fussed over is tragic, although my experience is that usually these poor sad creatures have merely been fussed over wrong and you need to figure out what they like.† Thoroughbreds are notoriously thin-skinned but a soft brush–or even a chamois–and a light touch usually go a long way. (They have to go a long way, because it takes you forever to clean one of these animals.) Connie is much more relaxed and tolerant than this, but over the weeks, while she’s been perfectly polite from the beginning, she’s obviously settling more and more comfortably into the particular fuss I make. I’m always very careful to let her know where I am when I’m working on her†† but if I look forward her ears are always watching me.††† She puts her head right down so you can get all the itchy places where the bridle straps run‡ and you can do anything to her ears. Most horses in my experience, even the ones who love a fuss so much they almost lie down and present their bellies to be rubbed, will limit the mauling of their ears.
Connie seems to have found a particularly satisfying dust bath in her paddock. Mud is easier to get off; once it dries, it brushes straight out. Dust works its way into the hair and then sets so an ordinary mud-removing brush skates right off again. She goes out in a fly sheet, so the damage is limited, but her ears are available. About a fortnight ago I noticed that the ears at the end of the neck I was learning to know and love were remarkably grimy which aside from questions of proper horse care and stable management was ruining my view. But I forgot once I was on the ground again. Last Saturday I had my first serious go at an ear–the grimier one–with a well-wrung out sponge. But dirt, as I say, is adhesive, and after a minute or two of delicate daubing I found myself with the ear flattened against the palm of one hand while I scrubbed it like it was a floor with the other. And Connie was still standing there with her head down for easy reach, and one hind leg slack. Okay, last Saturday she might have been suffering general collapse as a result of a (hot) two and a half hour hack, but today I did the other ear and she still stood there with a faint smile on her face of ‘well this one at least cares about the complete picture.‘
Now if we could only do something about our canter transitions.
* * *
* I am so in love. This is cute in a 9 year old. I’m not sure it works in a 56 year old.^
^ And if anyone is counting, no, I’m not quite 56 yet. But I always start calling myself the next year early so that by the time the birthday arrives I’m used to it and can luxuriate and enjoy myself. I don’t do parties, but I do fabulous food and fabulous presents and Peter would hear about it if they were not forthcoming.
** The chickens are also friendly. They burble at you if you come near their fence. I have been thinking that they just equate two-legged moving upright = food, and are ever hopeful, but I saw Jenny’s husband bringing them a big gardening basket of freshly-cut grass and they went mental. I asked Jenny and she said oh, yes, they’re just friendly, as if I’d just asked if horses are good to ride. Oh. I know there are pet chickens–I have a friend who has three layers, and one of them has made herself a pet with a well-judged charm offensive–and Hen and the Art of Chicken Maintenance
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hen-Chicken-Maintenance-Martin-Gurdon/dp/1843304147
is entirely friendly and funny and adorable, but I’m still not expecting companionable burbling from chickens I’ve never been properly introduced to.
I had this exchange with Jenny while Clover had done her fling-and-upend trick at me and I was rubbing her belly and murmuring, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, to go with her–I’m not sure what you call it in a dog: it’s sort of halfway between purring and squeaking–and Jenny said, half-disgustedly, You soft dog. You’re supposed to be patrolling the yard and being fierce and upholding the honour of the Jack Russell. –Oh thank the gods you’re not, say I.
*** This is a comment on HOW MUCH I LIKE HORSES, you know, not a casual remark about my indifference to riding.^
^ Indifference to riding?!!???!?
† A pocketful of carrots is usually a good beginning.
†† If there’s a way to be perfectly safe working around a horse, I don’t know what it is. And there’s no good way to deal with the insides of the hind legs except by leaning across the other one. So you stay as close as possible, so any accidental kick doesn’t have space to develop any momentum, and I try to have a hand or a shoulder or something in contact with the side I’m on as I reach across. And I don’t deal with tricky horses. Life is short and I like my limbs in their present configuration.
††† You know what I mean
‡ And because of the grass belly–and a tendency to colic–she has to be turned out in a Hannibal-Lector contraption so she can’t eat much, so that’s more straps
comments
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But I always start calling myself the next year early so that by the time the birthday arrives I’m used to it and can luxuriate and enjoy myself.
Yes, I’ve been more or less 38 for several months now. Tomorrow is just a formality. :)
I have a friend who has three layers,
Three layers of chickens? That’s pretty deep. :)
Yes, I’ve been more or less 38 for several months now. Tomorrow is just a formality. :)
******** Oh! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :)
I have a friend who has three layers,
Three layers of chickens? That’s pretty deep. :)
********* OH GODS. When I wrote that I thought, is somebody going to get after me for this–? IT WOULD BE *YOU*, WOULDN’T IT??!?
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Robin: Oh! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :)
Southdowner: I hope you have a great birthday!
Thanks, both of ya! Party’s at 7, everyone’s invited. :)
IT WOULD BE *YOU*, WOULDN’T IT??!?
I’m surprised you even had to ask yourself this, honestly.
I’m not asking myself, am I. I am Making a Public Remark.
BlackBear– I hope you have/had a marvelous birthday (what’s left of it, at any rate– it is 11:01 pm here. And I only just now saw this. So here’s some belated (or will be belated when you see this) birthday wishes!
:)
Oh I must be asleep already, I never thought of that at all – clunks self on side of head…
and I hope you have a great birthday!
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NOT YOU TOO. :)
Sorry (grins). Just noticed my bed is 3 deep in dogs, so off to find a space before there’s no more room!
Happy birthday!!!
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“Yes, I’ve been more or less 38 for several months now. Tomorrow is just a formality. :)”
:offers Hi5 to Black Bear:
Hope you have had/are having a lovely day and I wish you many happy returns. My turn tomorrow…:)
I’d quite like to be 38 again, mind you…
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Good heavens! Happy birthday to you too!
Happy birthday AJLR and I hope you enjoy some quieter time at the end of the week to celebrate :)
Happy BELATED Birthday, AJLR!
Hope you had a marvelous day.
:)
–Julia
******** And because of the grass belly–and a tendency to colic–she has to be turned out in a Hannibal-Lector contraption so she can’t eat much, so that’s more straps
Poor Connie! My Caroline has to wear a Lector mask all summer – and she really HAS a grass belly. She doesn’t avoid it when you put it on, she’s too good natured, but the ears slide back to half mast, and her muzzle tightens. At the field gate she doesn’t walk off but turns and comes back to the gate with you “Hey! You forgot! Just undo this for me please…”
Thankyou for these entries – can’t wait for Pegasus :)
Thank you!
(Poor Caroline! With menopause I’m thinking about getting MYSELF one of those masks!!!)
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***** I’m thinking about getting MYSELF one of those masks!!!)
I think I need the equivalent of a starvation paddock, complete with electric fence LOL
LOL! Oh dear! That hurts! :)
Southdowner: complete with electric fence LOL
Robin: LOL! Oh dear! That hurts! :)
Ooh, yeah they do. There was this one time at the zoo when… wait, never mind. Forget I mentioned it. :)
Come ooooooooon . . . :)
It wasn’t me, it was a coworker… Which was funny because the senior staff had apparently had a pool going on when I would accidentally grab hold of a hotwire around an animal enclosure. Not IF I would, mind you–WHEN I would. So it was a shock to everyone (so to speak) when one of the other seasonal staff did it first. She was weeding next to the red panda exhibit, and I was around the corner, and I heard this sort of strangled “yrkkk” noise…. she’d grabbed the top of the short plexiglass wall to pull herself up, and there’s a wire running along the top of that. So–zap. She was pretty out of sorts for the rest of the day, and her wristwatch melted; apparently all the little electronicky bits fused together inside. But it wasn’t me, dammit! It was the one mistake I didn’t make…
You mean you didn’t make it LATER? :)
—This sounds like kinda high voltage. Your average sheep wire is just a very unpleasant tingly sick buzz.
But you’d need extra voltage if those sheep went over to the dark side wouldn’t you? (Were)wolf in sheep’s clothing sort of thing?
Mwahahahaha – imagine Bela Lugosi…
Bela LUgosi as a SHEEP??????
Awww. It’s so sweet when animals love you like that.
And also, when’s your birthday?
She sounds like my old grey mare (who has passed away). :)
Have you tried the umbilical rub yet? Make your hand like a claw and rub firmly in circular motions around her umbillical area. I’ve seen horses *almost* do what young Clover likes doing…… Kind of like a “G spot”! LMAO Of course there are some that don’t care….. (just like some women….) ;)
Cool. No. I know some horses really DO like their tummies rubbed though, it’s just a little AWKWARD to perform, especially when you’re watching the face for the funny expressions. :)
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>when you’re watching the face for the funny expressions.
Oh yes. I think that is the most gratifying bit – there is no pretending on their part!
Yes!
Ooh, I love this story best of all. Horse ears are so velvety and pretty. I liked petting Ivan’s ears when he’d let me, but you’re right, it wasn’t his favorite thing.
I’m sure you do this too — pat the legs and hind end when you go around them so they know where you are? I got so used to doing that with Ivan and Bubba, and then when I was a waitress and walking up behind another server with a huge tray, we always patted each others’ shoulders as we walked up so they’d know we were there. (So as to avoid yelling HEY YOU OUTTA MY WAY! and disturbing the wildlife– I mean customers.) I still find myself doing that with Jeff when I walk up behind him. *patpat* I’m not really that touchy of a person — I like my bubble around me — but that training not to get kicked is pretty strong.
Give Connie a carrot for me next time!
Yes, that’s right. I’m always trailing a hand along her.
Connie will be DELIGHTED she’s getting an extra carrot. :)
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Yes, and a continuous mumble of chat…and showing them what I’m going to do next (look, here’s the good brush….here’s the good sponge…now we’ll do hooves… ) so they can expect it. I learned that with babies, to tell them its nappy-change time instead of hauling up their ankles and Baring All without a word of warning. Our school horses are ultra- forgiving (mostly), but I still think its basic politeness to say “Hi” first and let them know what’s up. Even the lead mares will become remarkably meek once you exert a bit of stern moral authority. (Oh, sorry, would you like that hoof now? Here, sorry, sorry…. says Beelzebub, who’s sort-of kicked me twice so far, not liking her hooves messed with in fly-season. Now I do an introductory admonition and she Obeys. So far.)
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Awww… Connie sounds like a thoroughly loveable creature, and one of very good taste and discernment, seeing as she likes you.
:)
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I am completely unfamiliar with horses, except for that one horse at camp when I was 8 (he was a biter), and so I like them in an abstract, “oh, isn’t that a nice idea,” kind of way. I had always assumed that since horses in books whinny at people, it is a common thing for horses in real life to whinny at people. Before today, I never realized that a horse whinnying in a book is actually code to all the horse lovers out there, that fictional horse likes fictional character! I feel like mine eyes hath been opened. So, thanks.
Now can you tell us a story about sailing? You mentioned once in a comment you used to sail, and I wonder when that might make it into a book? :)
One of my pet peeves about Hollywood etc is the way horses whinny all the time. Horses do NOT whinny all the time. They’re mostly pretty quiet. And, yeah, it’s pretty special if a horse whinnies at you, unless you’re carrying a bucket of oats.
My sailing days are a LONG time ago. I’m not sure I could do it. Hmmm. Well, a lot of the memories are still there, and I could always brush up on the, er, *facts.* Hmmmm. . . .
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Well, its pretty gratifying even with the oats. Any happy horse noise or response is very pleasing. Question for all; why do some horses wipe their faces all over your chest at the end of a ride? I’ve been interpreting it as a horse-hug kind of thing, but if anyone knows more….
sarah;cincinnati, I have absolutely no idea, but I thought I might make the observation that it sounds an awful lot like a cat thing to do – in which case I would say “express ownership”. I guess if it were a dog sort of thing it would be “hey, let’s share our smell with each other!” But since it is a horse sort of thing, I don’t think I’ve really added anything to this discussion!
Robin, re: sailing. I totally respect the powers that be, and sometimes in an entire lifetime, they just don’t give you a story about sailing ships (how stingy!). I guess I was mainly wondering, did you sail in Maine? And did you ever race?
Yes. No. I belong to the faction that believes that you can reproduce the sailing race experience by standing in a cold shower ripping up $100 bills. :)
Ha. Well I crew for someone so he covers most of the expenses (except for an awesome race week coming up that we’re all pitching in for), his company even sponsors shirts and jackets and spinnakers. And while I’m a fairweather motorcyclist, I admit I often take a perverse satisfaction from sailing in a torrential downpour in a dead calm. Although, I admit it is not pleasant when all the rain from the mainsail is pouring directly down the inside of your jacket collar. Chacun a son gout. :)
Yes. I remember. Somehow I don’t miss it at all. :)
*****Connie WHINNIED at me today.*****
(*smile*)
*****One of her not so negligible virtues is that she likes being groomed and fussed over. For those of us who like horses better than we like riding, a horse who does not enjoy being fussed over is tragic, although my experience is that usually these poor sad creatures have merely been fussed over wrong and you need to figure out what they like.*****
I have to admit that I’ve never enjoyed grooming, and I’ve never found a horse that enjoyed being groomed. I don’t do it particularly hard — takes too much muscle! — but even so, they just don’t seem to like it. Dust just doesn’t come out of coats without a hose, in my experience, and it always ends up taking me about an hour to do anything like a halfway job anyway, and I end up being throughly filthy afterwards and the horse still isn’t clean without a water bath, so I really dislike it.
*****you can do anything to her ears. Most horses in my experience, even the ones who love a fuss so much they almost lie down and present their bellies to be rubbed, will limit the mauling of their ears.*****
Funny — my younger horse was obviously trained by having people twist his ears: if you go to do it he immediately freezes and turns to submissive mush — but he also loves to have his ears fussed over. His favorite thing is to have a harsh brush stuck in the insides and rubbed thoroughly. Makes his bones melt.
*****And there’s no good way to deal with the insides of the hind legs except by leaning across the other one.*****
Hmph. That never occurred to me. I always do them on the same side by reaching around. How do I see what I’m doing, you ask? I don’t. I do it by feel and then go around to the other side to check. I can’t reach far enough or bend far enough to do it any other way.
Judith
Well I can’t help but think your lack of pleasure in the grooming/fussing process is getting through to your horse(s). I have RARELY found a horse that doesn’t like to be fussed over. In fact I can’t think of any. You just have to find out what works. And I admit the ones you need to use a chamois on are kind of a lengthy process.
I used to do hind legs by feel and check too, but it takes longer, you have to keep switching to check. Oiling hoofs, for example, you may have to go back and forth three times before you get all the bumps and hollows. Easier my way, with a horse you feel you can trust to pay attention to the fact that you’re back there (hence my always being in CONTACT with wherever I am AND whatever I’m working on.)
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I *so* love just messing around with horses that when I was in college, horseless and desperate I took a job as a hotwalker with a low-rent racing stable. The working conditions (and pay!) were abysmal but I got to spend everyday with the monsters.
The horses I grew up with all hated baths more than anything in the world and so it was kind of a shock to spend a good chunk of the day with a horse in one hand and a bucket and a hose in the other.
“A pocketful of carrots is usually a good beginning.”
—– I got to experience this yesterday. It was so exciting. One of my zoo co-workers and her husband had a huge party at their house and invited everyone in her dept, everyone in his dept (he works there as well, although I don’t know him as much) and everyone in my dept (we work pretty closely with her dept so they all know us fairly well), and they had both 2 beautiful dogs and 2 wonderful horses. The horses were very friendly (Clydesdales, nice, laidback), and more than willing to accept carrots from our eager hands (those of us in education are animal lovers but don’t get to work with them so anything works!). They were so much fun.
Clydesdales
I love draft horses. (From Missouri you know, Anhesier Busch USED to be based here–(*choking back rant*). I used to have a horse, not a draft horse breed, but she was SO huge (feet like dinner plates) that people often thought she was. A beautiful, black-and-white paint the size of a bus! Such a great horse–though we were playing in the field, and she(only in good spirits) kicked up her heels and NAILED me in the thigh! OUCH!
Ten years later, I had to have an abcess removed from that vey place–the doc thought it was likely a left-over bone chip–DOUBLE OUCH!
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Life with horses, unfortunately. Yes. I feel like a twit, cleaning out feet with my helmet on. But it only takes one absent-minded knock with a hoof to a fly on the belly. And most of the horses I know can stand on only two diagonal legs.
I didn’t realize you are my age! I saw you at an autograph session at the school librarian’s convention in Cleveland Ohio, and I thought then how young you were to be a successful author, but never realized your age till now! (I hope that makes sense!)
Yes, I still have the book you autographed then – one of the Damars.
What luck to have a horse blog today! I rode for a year or so when I was ten, about half my life ago. Today I had my very first lesson since then! I don’t think I’ll have time when I go back to UC Davis, but I still have this summer, and I think I’m going to apply for a job at the school’s equestrian center. I was basically inspired to start again by two things- the lack of horses within walking distance here at home, and you. So I owe you a really, really big thank you- it was the most incredible experience, even though I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew, and I’m headed back on Saturday. Thankyouthankyouthankyou!
Well done you! Good luck and have fun! And thank you! :)
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****I’m not sure what you call it in a dog: it’s sort of halfway between purring and squeaking****
I know the noise you mean, but I have had dogs who really did purr (not just like a cat, but definitely a purr and not a squeak). It was expressive of deep comfort and contentment with mine; I get the squeaky stuff when there is an element of excitement too.
You wondered about potential problems with loose shoulder ligaments; comments on that blog entry were closed so here are my thoughts. Apparently the A.B. gets this from her father, who is now 9 years old and happily zipping around. A.B. is perfectly sound and not *grossly* loose, so I don’t think she’ll have any problems. I will keep my eye on her when she starts learning to jump, just in case. I don’t really have any plans to breed her, but since others in the litter don’t have this particular fault, I doubt if it’s a dominant thing.
It sounds like Connie is going beyond general niceness and is recognizing you as a friend even without food. It’s really an honor when an animal that doesn’t live with you chooses to do this. Good job!
I know the noise you mean, but I have had dogs who really did purr
************ Yes. Darkness purrs. Darkness is very vocal. :)
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absolutely joyous
:)
“I’m not quite 56 yet. But I always start calling myself the next year early so that by the time the birthday arrives I’m used to it and can luxuriate and enjoy myself.”
You and me both – except I’m STAYING 55 for as long as I possibly can so that I don’t have to think of myself as being quite definitely nearer 60 than 50! Which I suppose, technically, we are.
And I’m glad you’re so in love with Connie and riding her! I’m in love with ice-dancing, but I do that with my husband, which isn’t quite the same thing….
Grooming has always been my favorite thing in horsedom. You get to spend time with these great beasts and get all that lovely warm horsey smell in your nostrils and really work into them with your muscles and scratch their itchy spots and chat with them and get to know their quirks and it’s just a wonderful time of communion.
Of course, I also really like the physicality of mucking out, so I may just be a bit mental. *shrug* I’m okay with that.
Yes. Grooming is very, uh, bonding. Aside from the shared dirt aspect. :)
I like mucking out a bit the way I like weeding . . .
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Here’s the thing about weeding: it’s not exactly *fun,* but it provides the satisfaction of immediate gratification (at least until the blasted things come back from the slivers of root left behind). I can easily fall victim to One More Weed syndrome and stay at it way past the time when I should be doing something else. You would think that housecleaning would produce the same effect, but unfortunately you would be wrong.
I entirely agree about housework, although I say that if I have a tidying impulse I rush out into the garden. :) But I honestly enjoy weeding. I find it satisfying. Dirty and live things I suppose. (Even if these include slugs.) Sweeping the floor just isn’t the same. And since I won’t kill spiders, dealing with cobwebs is tricky.
I spent about three hours weeding this morning. I’m a full-contact gardener, and by the time I finished I looked like a mudball–but the rose bed looked gorgeous!
Half of our house is walkout basement level and gets lots of spiders–many of them useless, I must say, because they don’t catch anything–and lots of webs. If I were a Good Person and vacuumed every day (or could persuade my husband to do it, it’s his TV room), they might give up and go somewhere else. We all know the likelihood of that, ha ha. So I vacuum up the webs etc. and tell the spiders to STAY IN THE WALLS so we’ll all be happy. I am not good at spiders, but I won’t try to get them if they are making an escape. Fortunately we do not have any dangerous ones here so I am willing to be tolerant. When I lived where there were black widows and brown recluses, spiders didn’t get a second chance.
Black widows and brown recluses tend to lurk in places where bad housekeepers don’t have to worry, they aren’t going there. :) I think I’ve said this here before, but my awful revelation of wussness about spiders was when I found out that house spiders DIE if you put them outdoors. So I don’t put them outdoors any more. Except maybe a little bit in the summer. . . .
Have you tried giving her peppermints? I have never met a horse that didn’t like a good peppermint. Actually, that was the way I’d catch my horse when I was younger and she insisted that running all over the field WITHOUT me on her back was so much more fun than with me. I’d take a peppermint wrapper and rub it like I was opening it. That got her (nearly) every time.
I am vicariously in love with Connie myself, after all your blogging about her…of course, vicarious horse-love is something I am VERY GOOD AT, having had years of practice! :-) I’m remembering the time when a family reunion and my aunt’s ownership of a young horse named Pride coincided (I was 12)! I spent most of the reunion visiting with Pride as he relaxed under a tree away from all the noise of my excessively large family. My aunt kept telling me to leave him alone, he’s jittery, he’ll step on you or kick you, but, like any good 12 year old, I ignored such sage advice. By the end of the reunion, Pride had eyes glazed over and hind foot slack (bored with a 12 year old’s admittedly limited conversation? hmmm…) as I rubbed him down. I was ecstatic! Dirty, but ecstatic!
Titanic: the musical opens Friday night. Excessively long rehearsals might sink me before we sink the ship, though! :-)
Jeanne Marie
I am so glad I have my own horse to go play with because this post would have made me go find one…grin.
And some people say horses have no personalities…..this posts proves otherwise. Connie sounds so wonderful!!!!!
I always love it when I get greeted with a whinny and on extra special days he even gallops to the gate and whinnies.
*** Dust works its way into the hair and then sets so an ordinary mud-removing brush skates right off again. ***
I’m convinced that gray horses have extra adhesive skin to collect dirt….
Yes! The Grey Curse!!!!!
There was a stallion once who used to come running to the paddock gate when I called him, whinnying like mad and when he arrived would rear and paw the air like the Black Stallion, except he was a bay (thoroughbred). That was a long time ago. Sigh. :)
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Yes my guy did the whinnying all the way and then a large sweeping circle around me and when he stopped he tossed his head and gave the Arab snort. So beautiful.
Course with his legs now it’s more of an amble to me and then on the way to the gate he sticks his head over my shoulder and nuzzles my ear. Not as dramatic but just as wonderful.
By the way the dress is gorgeous!
Horses are just *very nice critters* given the op.
Thank you! :)
“I am so in love. This is cute in a 9 year old. I’m not sure it works in a 56 year old”
Of course it works! And it sounds as though the affection is starting to flow both ways which is great – when was it ever wrong to feel a deep affection for another living being! (Good grief :mutters to self:)
:)
when was it ever wrong to feel a deep affection for another living being! (Good grief :mutters to self:)
*********** Thank you! :)
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