I took a country walk as it began to rain, down to the mailbox with Sunny, an over-sized moose of a dog – who liked to find and devour poop, and when I made her spit it out, she would wag her tail vigorously, and look up at me with an expression of “I love this game, can we do it again?”
A quiet, cool walk down the gravel road, where the neighbor’s three horses stared unusually at us as we passed by. I do not know if it was the dog or my bright blue umbrella, but it caused the youngest – a sprightly bay named Gambler – to come charging curiously up to the fence and watch as I raised and lowered my umbrella, trying to gauge a reaction. He didn’t seem to care about that, but something sent him racing back toward the other two, giving little kicks and jumps as he went. Standing there in the rain, I could watch the Paint, Ranger, go galloping past as well, while stately white Andalusian Galahad simply watched.
The pleasures of living in the country.