I swung around the side of the barn and headed for the door — and there he was!

Rebel! Waiting in the aisle for his post-holiday pedicure. I kind of squeaked, ‘Hey!’, and his ears went up, and his mane was a mess, and he let me give him a good scratch.

I got a little giddy: absence may not make the heart grow fonder, but it certainly shuts down the neural pathways that hold all the information about, oh, you know, bucking, and refusing to give the canter depart, and veering towards those puddles that lie tantalisingly on the far side of fences…

Well, we’ll see. Maybe I haven’t been posting so much because I haven’t had anything to give out about…?

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