A Word About My Best Friend

I know I've spoken about him at some length before but I thought you would like to see a picture of my dearest friend.

He's my best friend for many reasons. First of all, he's grey, which is the superior colour for all types of equines. I'm not biased, of course. He has a wonderful sense of humour and is often referred to as "that clown". Although he is my age, 13, he retains a youthful outlook on life and never, ever worries about anything, except dinner being delayed. When he does sustain physical damage, which is fairly often owing to his ultra-relaxed attitude, he refuses to worry about it and simply indicates to his woman that he needs ointment, stitches, poulticing or whatever. Then he has a long nap.

The photo is from last summer when he carried our friend Linda through the Adirondacks and managed to not fall off a precipice or into a chasm or be swept over a waterfall. He did have an occasional stumble over a tree root but didn't actually fall on Linda at any point, which she much appreciated. Like myself, he abhors mud but doesn't mind a sip from a river where he can see the bottom.

It was the first such trip for Molly and Smokey shepherded her along, encouraging her with gentle nudges on the backside when she hesitated at a bridge or river crossing. He quite fancies her but she was taken with the other gelding, Tucker, who is a strapping brown and white lad. Nevertheless, Smokey still yearns for the golden girl.

I only get to see Smokey in the good weather when he is driven over in his metal box on wheels. It's a shame because I'm always cheered up by one of his visits, when he inevitably says "Hey, little dude", and promptly falls out of his conveyance in his excitement at being here.