I wrote this a few months before a horse of mine named Sasha passed away. It is partly my musings on laughing at/with horses. It's also partly a celebration of the joy I had with Sasha.
I have a retired mare, Sasha. She is The Queen. I have no expectations for her, and she owes me nothing. My only ambitions are to keep her as comfortable and happy. I anthropomorphize the shit out of her - because why not.
The Queen is very involved in everything. She's very curious, and expressive and interested in the world. She performs many antics and I enjoy them loudly with laughter.
The Queen enjoys scritches in all her favourite places, and euthusiastically grooms me back. I laugh at her, because it tickles, and because she always goes for my stomach and I don't know why.
The Queen is investigating my boots. Today they are exceptionally interesting, and require careful examination. She tugs on the laces, and I lift my foot. She lowers her head, and I put my foot back down. She repeats this 5 or 6 times, until I am laughing so hard I need to grab her mane to keep my balance.
The Queen is thirsty. She tugs the lead off to the left. She wants to go to the water trough, and I go with her. Alas, she is horrified to discover the water trough has been drained and is only filled with bricks. The Queen snorts deeply, arching her neck to peer resentfully into the inadequate offering. I laugh at her, because she is so offended and because this trough has been empty for years.
The Queen and I are hiking across the farm, powerwalking along with swinging hips and soft eyes. Suddenly, a bird erupts out of the drainage ditch alongside us. The Queen startles, rights herself then ploughs her head down and scarfs a few big mouthfuls of grass. The sustenance smooths away the surprise, and within moments she is completely at peace again. I laugh at her, because it's funny how quickly she rights herself because it's not only humans who can use comfort food to self soothe.
The Queen is doing her yoga, inhand work to keep her balanced and strong. I suggest a little trot, she gathers herself and BOINGs a lovely walk to canter transition, does a single stride of canter inhand then settles into a lovely little bouncing trot. One the other rein as well, BOING then trot, BOING then trot. I laugh at her, because I'm proud she has this coiled power to work with now, and because her creativity looks joyful and exuberant and because with retired horses there are no rules on how they need to be.
Reflecting is both joyful and painful, and deeply precious.