As part of Tommy’s ongoing education, I have also been subjecting him to all sorts of unfamiliar experiences. I found an old bicycle and propped it up in the pen after he spun around in horror when we encountered a cyclist on one of our early hacks out together. When I wheeled it around the pen expecting him to have a fit, he just meekly followed me around after it. I’ve blown up balloons and rubbed the squeaky plastic balls over his body and then let them expire making lovely farty noises. I’ve draped him in bunting and black plastic bags and made him walk over rubber car mats. By and large, he has taken to all these minor indignities with as much grace as it is possible for a canny little Irish horse to muster.
And after all that partying in the round pen, we have been out socialising too.
And finally, after all that preening and socialising, here we are admiring ourselves in the reflection in the window in the front of my cottage.
See a more philosophical ‘take’ about this post in my other blog: Artist as Pilgrim: Allowing Silence to Speak.