I have thoughts building somewhere in back of my brain, but maybe it's nothing more than the bloat that comes from horse constipation, that irritating condition that results from having the itch but no opportunity to scratch. Yes, I was at the barn Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, but the absurd weather meant we worked with Dar only on Monday. I could have joined him for a good, stretching wallow in the rich, ooogy mud last night, but, well, who has the time?
Nevertheless, something has become clear to me. Men like my doofus. They seem to be drawn to his silly, earnest need for attention, his compact, cloddy bulk, and his demanding friendliness. And I think he likes it.
K's husband took these pictures last Sunday.