Albert and I shared an apple this morning – a perfectly crisp Gala from Washington State. It was such an unseasonably cool morning that I think neither of us wanted to be anywhere but right where we were: looking out over his gate, across the hilly fields, and listening to the cat, the girls, the swallows racing around the barn.
After a few minutes of poll-scratching, he just leaned against me, and that one eyelid he’s got left started drooping and drooping. His head dropped; he drooled a little bit. Then, he gave it up.
It reminded me of when I used to watch my daughter resist sleeping at nap time. Nothing beats having your horse or your kid fall asleep in your arms. Or in Albert’s case – on my arm, actually.