In and Around the Horsie Hilton

Horses - like people - have very distinct personalities.

Dream loves her barn and her stall. If it ever catches fire, she is the horse who will run into it and go up in flames because of the security and safety it represents to her. Preventing her access to it causes equine melt-down. After shutting her out for a few hours, I risk life and limb opening the door: she hurtles in, often smashing into wall or door in her haste. One evening she repeatedly crashed head-long into the barn door in anticipation of my flinging it open (and diving for cover).

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Heidi, on the other hand, is like the rural mailman: "neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow" keep her from the outdoors. Her attitude seems to derive from a fear of being trapped and the need to be able to flee from imagined dangers (like the saddle) at will.

Why do I keep these two nut-cases? Just look at them. Come to the barn with me and listen to their greetings, see the contentment they find in the simple pleasures and comforts I offer them, tell them your troubles and know that they understand your mood and will never tell anybody your secrets.

I fell in love with horses when I was very young.

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I still have a pair of appropriately named "saddle shoes" that fit me when I was two years old. Stuck to the bottom of them is some horse manure dating back to 1947. Some loves never die.