Gabby is now the property of my barn. I visited her Tuesday, when it was still insanely warm around here. She was out in a field with three other bay mares and boy, did they ever look pretty! They looked like a chorus, all gracefully picking their way across the fresh, warm ground and nipping at grasses clover. She looked up as I came up (they all did), then went back to her grazing.
And I am now the proud full-lease lessee of Mopey. Turns out his name is short for Mr. Mistoffelees. I don’t know if his owner named him for Old Scratch or for T.S. Eliot’s clever cat. It’s funny; crooked little Moe with such an imposing official name. He’s still fuzzy as can be so I whacked away at his hair with the shedding brush. He needs serious clipping, although his hair is rather long and I’m sure it will gum up the works of any clippers used at this stage. Really, Moe’s grooming has been a group effort. At least three of us have taken a turn in major hair removal. The worst of the stuff is nearly off. I think. I hope. It’s hard to tell in the moment of grooming as horse hair flies up the air and up one’s nose.
Any way, I like this. I like knowing Moe is being taken care of by me. I feel warm and fuzzy and like I’m doing a good thing. I’d be out there today brushing him some more except that a bit of work came up and I need to do it by tomorrow morning.