I brought out the grooming box, which Bridget wasted no time in emptying.
Bridget is always gregarious, no matter the weather, but the other three's desire to socialize definitely rises with the temperature. George was back to his old self and planted himself next to me, indicating that it would be acceptable for me to brush him. Bridget kept sneaking up, and at one point - marvellous to relate - she reached out and just barely touched George's hindquarters with her nose.
Most of the time, Bridget and George took turns for attention, although Rose did come up at one point while I was talking to Bridget. She intimated that Bridget should please buzz off, but Bridget, of course, ignored the suggestion. Chloe was looking particularly placid and smiley. When I walked over to her and stood a couple of feet away, she sidled up to me so I could scratch her.
George has taken possession of the shelter (finally - now that the worst of the weather is over!) and I did observe Rose venture in once during George's absence. The shelter is very deep, but you can see that the entrance is much too narrow for horses who have to share quarters with a Troll.
|Chloe considers her chances.|
|Moving on from their little encounter.|
George also (I think) tried to groom me. I encouraged him by sticking out my arm and telling him to scratch it. If he chomped too hard, I tried to under-react - just enough to let him know he has to pull his punches when grooming a human.
Bridget and I played with the tire. I rolled it for her a couple of times.
She and Rose followed after the tire. I climbed on top of it, holding onto Bridget's neck for balance, while she chewed and pawed it.
|Then she worked on undoing my shoelaces.|
|December 30, two weeks after it |
erupted at the coronet band.
We had a nice time, and nobody once mentioned food. Even the occasional unruly truck roaring past couldn't ruffle the genial tranquillity of the afternoon.