Covert Muffin Drop

A mighty blizzard is forging its way toward my city. This is how it will look by nightfall. I decided to take preemptive measures and whip down to my office to grab some work for the next few days. On the way, I swung by to see Saxony. After all, I had five German Horse Muffins left.

I'm used to Saxony recognizing me by now. I think she knows the sound of my Pathfinder. She'll always lift her head and either watch, waiting for me to come out to where she is, or move to the fence line. But the other horses have also wised up about the fact that I pretty much always have something good to eat, so they tend to crowd around us. I didn't have a lot of time, so I didn't want to have to manage a mini-mob. Instead, I went into the barn to access the paddock from the back door. I opened the door, closed it softly behind me, and then whispered, "Saxony. Sax. Come here." She was watching me from the turnout shed. Absurdly, I waved her toward me, gesturing with a cupped palm. She came, slowly and deliberately, but casually. I couldn't help but imagine she understood this was to be a covert muffin drop.

I gave her the five muffins one a time, scratching her ears and face in between bites. It was so good to see her. Fat snowflakes in fairytale shapes landed here and there on her seal-thick coat. I lifted her muzzle between my hands and scratched the sides of her mouth. She rested her nose on my shoulder and I felt her warm breath glow across my neck.

Just this one little moment to cheat the coming storm left me feeling renewed and happy enough to have come out today.