Among the work before us is tending to an injured horse. A few days ago our big paint horse, Chanta, got into a bit of an alpha male conflict with the super protective and territorial Romulus (daddy llama). While Chanta delivered several good solid kicks himself, he did suffer a small cut on his beautiful leg from Romulus' crazy sharp hoof. Everyone is totally fine, just enjoying some tender loving care and medical attention for a bit. In fact, the conflict seems to have cleared the air between the two, and now everyone is tucked safely and happily in their own spaces.
In fact, Handsome and I have enjoyed the extra snuggles at least as much as Chanta, and I am happy to know that we can handle an injury.
Just hours before the manly kerfluffle happened, oddly enough, I sat with Chanta for over an hour, brushing him, kissing him, detangling his gorgeous mane and tail, stroking his muscles and long, amazing legs. Admiring the permissible layer of blubber he has grown lately. I clearly remember sitting on the grass in front of him while his big head dropped almost on top of mine. My hands, middle fingertip to thumb, can fully encircle his bony ankle. How can those skinny ankles support this magnificent beast? I don't get it. Chanta loves having his legs and feet touched, so I brushed that silvery little forelock above his hooves too.
Chanta is so big. and so sweet. and so in love with us. He adores being brushed and loved. He likes the Beatles' songs Penny Lane and Norwegian Wood, but not as much as his favorite, Raindrops on Roses. After just a few quiet minutes like this, he usually exhales all of the air in that big round belly, a long gentle snuffle collapsing him into relaxation.
Chanta is just the bees knees. We love him incredibly, as do all of our friends who visit the farm. We are super thankful he is okay, and to keep it that way if you believe in praying for animals would you do so?