Energy

I feed horses again this morning. For the first time since Colby passed away they react almost normally to me. I am not so emotional today and the horses respond well to a new, more stable, me. I do a leadership exercise in the pasture with three horses. I begin to walk among them and become part of the herd, then I break off and walk away. By the sound of the grass moving, the thud of hoofbeats on the ground, I can tell that all three are following me. I have established myself as their leader, something I have not been able to do since Colby passed. Finally, I am ready to begin working with horses again. The thought should be joyful, but I can't get there today. It is a sad and numb day today. Emotion, any emotion, is hard to come by. I do feel mildly pleased, however.

Colby had a wonderful way with animals, all animals. When he was five and six, he and our horse, Snoqualmie, and dog, Dexter, played in the pasture for hours on end. Colby was the pirate, Snoqualmie was the pirate ship, and Dexter was the faithful sidekick. Snoqualmie would raise and lower her neck (the gangplank) on Colby's command, and he'd either pull himself up onto her back or slide down to the ground. The three of them would trot back and forth across the pasture, vanquishing invisible enemies until it was way past dark. When the enemy was finally at bay they'd share peanut buttter and jelly sandwiches. Yes, even though she was a horse, Snoqualmie loved PB&J sandwiches.

I don't think I ever saw a horse, dog or cat that didn't immediately come up to Colby. He was patient with them, kind, gentle. Through my work with horses I know that our four-legged friends have a much better sense of the goodness of humans than we humans do. Equine, feline or canine, they all spend a lot more time watching us, than we spend watching them. Their survival depends on accurately judging human character and I was always so proud that Colby consistently passed the toughest character test of all, that of our animal friends.