Bone weary, working on autopilot, loading and unloading and loading all over again. The steady powerlessness of need giving more energy and focus to the blurred monotony of routine. His cries are deafening while I attempt with fat fingers to rub and soothe and I feel my anger rise and burn slowly. I tighten my grip on the rope that holds him, yanking hard and fast to remind him who’s boss.
He cries out again, dancing in a circle around me as I try to wash him, cold water to soothe his aching muscles from the antics of the last hour. I pushed him hard, the sweat pooling on his supple body. He flinches from the cold against his skin and tries to break free once more, crying out again and calling her name, no longer mine but hers once more.
I wrap him up as he wails again, soft fleece against his trembling body. I try to bring him in close to me, but he pulls away. I resign myself to his need now, and begin walking him towards her. His excitement builds, I can feel it from him. And then he sees her, soft shiny locks glistening in the sun. I envy her demeanour, her obvious need reflected in his. He’s not mine now, but hers. His anger shows as he calls her again, his impatience to be with her screaming in my ears. I finally let him go to her, their embrace one of longing and pleasure should be a joy to behold. Envy courses through me instead.
Bloody horses 🙄
Horses: even they need aftercare though they may not appreciate it.
