Today

The sky fell.

I was utterly completely snowed in this morning.

It just kept coming down all day.

The cat had the right idea: stay in. Couch-->windowsill-->couch-->windowsill. Instead of her romping and torturing of adorable mice. (I tried to save a particularly brave mouse who faced her head on the other day but failed.)

I refused to be Jack Nicholson cabin-fever-crazy so I took Baasha on the line for a walk. After actually taking a hose to his neck because it was still solid black with mud but also dripping from the rain/sleet/snow falling constantly. Whatever.

I made him presentable enough, to take a neighborhood walk.

The mailman stopped us a few blocks away and said he needed my signature. I signed and tried to find out if it was from my family. No, just cat food and horse treats.

We visited old Mr. S's herd and at one point I had 3 other muzzles joining Baasha's in a velvety muzzle group greeting, so sweet! Nordic, the gorgeous grey Arabian, has taken a step down to a tiny little cow-spotted Arabian with such unfortunate markings I'll have to do a separate blog post. But this big eyed spotty freak kept everyone else away and let Baasha nibble his face.

I must remember to come with a camera and get a photo of the grey-grulla?/pinto horse. I've never seen a horse that color. He was one of the 4 muzzles, his was less pink than the two paintabians.


Then we trespassed onto what was the old Pony Party stable property. I felt confident, as a former guest, but I acutely knew that I was unaware of who was now boarding there.

A man ran down, after I entered the stable area with Baasha. I found myself making excuses, embarrassed, what was I doing here....I oh, yes, I am a neighbor looking to buy a horse, trying to network instead of searching only online.

Baasha nuzzled the man. The man stroked Baasha momentarily, which I was happy to notice. Perhaps he's a horse lover and not just a rider.

He said he works for an animal rescue, intercepting horses on their way from Austria to Belgium for slaughter. Most of the Haflinger foals are a byproduct of the horse milk industry. (WTH, a horse milk industry!? I understand the need for Premarin--some women truly need this drug-- but no one needs horse milk in their cosmetics.)

Oddly, despite my trespassing, the man was willing to help. I was leaving, after saying how nice it is to meet him, and he called to me, "Wait."

He called a few friends, including the rescue org. No Arabians. Just some Standardbreds. We'll see..