|From Mr. Horse|
This morning we went by the pasture on our way to a walk down Skycrest (an immaculate little enclave nestled away from the highway) and we saw Mister Horse lying in the field trying to get up as best he could and failing time and time again. And along each side of him was one of the ladies and they seemed to be urging him on and supporting him. They would lean down and lick him on each side respectively and seemed to be saying "Get up, Horse. You can do it!"
We went on our way and had a nice adventure exploring Skycrest and meeting the dogs who live there who all came to their respective fences to check out the new Dude on the block, no doubt.
By the time we passed the field on the way back, Horse was lying on his side hardly moving. I wondered at first if he was still with us, but he blinked and moved his legs a bit. And flanking him on each side were the ladies. They seeemd to be guarding him, each facing in the opposite direction, lying adjacent to him.
And all the rest of the herd was lying down nearby, seemingly, because they were there. At the moment an alternative definition for the term family farm came to mind.
So you say, "Okay court, enough with all the anthropomorphizing. They're just animals." Or maybe you specify they're just dumb animals. Or some of you specify they're soulless dumb animals.
I have no idea. And I'm not anthropomorphizing, but I am going to metaphorize a bit.
I watched the ladies look after Mister Horse as if he was one of their own calves. It seemed like feminine compassion. A subject I'm both familiar with and often a recipient of. And, as the latter, I'm grateful for it's presence in what is otherwise a tough, brutal, and --dare I say it-- animalistic world.
I've got a mom, a wife, a sister, 3 daughters, and several close friends who, while occasional driving me nuts with estrogen-fueled illogic, also make life worth living through the kindnesses and emotional support they've never failed to give.
James Brown was right. It is a man's world, but it wouldn't be nothin' without a woman or a little girl. At least I'm of that opinion this week.
And I think even Mister Horse knows he's in good hands.