My old horse has picked up a new habit. She rests her chin on my shoulder, pressing down and holding still. Sugar is 27, a 15-hand Paint mare with two white stockings and an ample blaze on her face that makes her look like a Disney horse. Her mane is a little thin these days and her back is swayed, but she’s sound and healthy.
Sugar and I still putter happily around the ring and spend hours on the trail. She demonstrates her displeasure at walking through any kind of standing water with complex but predictable footwork: splashing with the first foot in, and then attempting a scoot-away maneuver. After more than a decade, I still make a point of forcing her to walk through calmly. “Puddles? I’ll show you puddles” is my training philosophy.
With Sugar, virtually all situations unspool at a pokey rate. I tense up when loose dogs race by, but Sugar doesn’t care---about the dogs or the tension.
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