Isn’t she pretty? She has a sensitive mouth and sides. She’s about 17 years old.
She’s not mine. Not even close.
Her image is part of my collection of horse pictures, collected in an ever-lengthening Wish List. I troll one particular Internet address for horses; horses for sale, horses for lease. I keep pictures of the ones I want to buy, even though I am so far from buying my own horse that it isn’t even funny.
I feel like a cyber stalker of horse images, a fetishist who is for now content with collecting and viewing her collection of pixeled images. Fetishist don’t require the real thing.
At least once a day and sometimes more, I visit my Wishlist of huge animals, wondering about them, wondering what they woudl be like to ride, to hang out with, to curry, to groom. Was the pretty spotty mare, a darling with a sleepy-eyed look, the one for me? She got away, you know. someone else bought her. But I have to admit, I know it was someone who could take care of her. The someone at least had a stable or a barn. A place for the horse to be with other horses, a ranch; something.
Anyway, Keo, the pretty Appy mare, is no longer mine to dream about. She vanished out from under me when she was sold, as much as she was ever under me to begin with. She was a dream and her owner kindly responded to my e-mails and my questions. It was nice of her.
Sure, for one wild moment, I thought seriously about making an appointment to see her. If I’d done that, then I would have been on the road to financial ruin as sure as can be. And good would that have done the horse?
There’s still time, I remind myself. Time and horses.