“There is something about the outside of a horse...

that is good for the inside of a man." --Winston Churchill

Or a woman, of course.

When I approach Renny's stall, he's usually waiting. He can't see me coming, but perhaps after five years, he knows my footsteps. Sometimes he nickers, usually not. But there is an alertness to his gaze, as I reach the door to his stall. Of course, I'm by that time going, Hi, Ren, how are you, Red? Did you miss me? He moves toward the door as if he had no choice, but he does really. I have no illusions about why he always moves towards me. I have been his human treat dispenser for quite some time now. He is hugely motivated by food. I open the door of his stall, and he presents his head for petting and scratching. He investigates pockets and hands. He knows where the good stuff resides. I generally don't dispense treats upon arrival, but he is ever the optimist. Yesterday, we said hello, and as I walked away to change into riding clothes, he started pawing in his doorway. It could be begging, it could be "let's get me out of here!", or it could be something else I haven't even thought of. I don't know - he's not talking.

I longed him first in just his halter. He had no bucks in the back. He was smooth and willing. A good boy, he knows how to longe, moving from trot to canter and back to trot at the sound of my voice. I longed him a second time in the surcingle and bridle. He was more than happy to do it all over again in the side reins. This time he really relaxed and was snorting and blowing, always a good sign. He was working well over his back and was tracking up nicely under himself. When I asked him to canter, I could see him hesitate for a second as if wondering, can I do this without bringing my head up? I encouraged him with my voice, and he smoothly went into the canter. After that little confidence booster, he easily went between gaits even with the side reins tighter than ever before. We even got a bit of white stuff.

We longed for maybe a total of 12 minutes. I took him back to the aisle to untack, and as usual, he expressed a desire to chew on his halter for a few minutes before I put it back on him. So, with one arm holding the halter for him, and my other arm around his neck, I let him chew. His eyes go to half mast, as if the chewing were some equine opiate, I marvel at his chestnut colored eyelashes and breathe deeply as I press my cheek into his neck. If I could bottle that eau de horse and carry it with me for all the times when I cannot have him near, I would be so happy.