Not Knowing Horses.

Never had much to do with horses. Where I grew up, horses were things that cowboys rode to head people off at the pass. But The Shire is horse country, and there are a lot of them around.

They’re strange beings, horses. They seem to be possessed of some inner conviction that they’re superior to other life forms, especially when those life forms are other animals in the same field. But they’re not much different with humans. They’ll only give you attention as and when it takes their fancy, which it usually doesn’t. They’re not friendly like dogs, or discerning like cats, or in-your-face like pigs, or inquisitive like cows, or suspicious like sheep. They’re just haughty. And I swear they sulk.

So it was with the horse I passed today on the way to the recycle bins at the pub. He was standing awkwardly and looking a little forlorn, and he was still doing the same when I came back, so I went and talked to him. Granted he came over to me, but he wouldn’t let me scratch his ear or pat his cheek. His demeanour was distinctly that of the sulk.

Not so the Lhasa Apso from Bag Lane who was being walked by her human’s mother. She was very friendly. Back to familiar territory.