Back to school!

Poor Max! My holiday is not over, but Max's little summer break is done.

First day back at the yard from Rome and YO said "See! Max survived without you!"

Yes, of course he did, and I knew he would, but it was very good to see him again.

On that first day, Saturday morning bright and early, I turned up at the yard with marmite on toast, and had no welcoming whuffle, no head over the box door at the sound of my car in the drive.

I walked to Max's box, and saw him standing at the back, head down.

"Hello monkey boy!" I whispered. "Did you miss me?"

His head snapped up, and he looked a little stunned. Stared at me for a bit, in disbelief, it seemed to me, then walked slowly forward, stuck his head outside the box and quivered his nostrils at me, though no sound accompanied.

"Toast?"

Head nod.

I fed him by hand, then moved into his box to give him a hug and breathe deeply, so I could smell that glorious smell tucked into his neck.Ah! The smell of childhood, of hopes and dreams, and satisfyingly, deliciously of Max. He stood still, tucked his head into my back and sighed.

The horse and his human reunited!

Told him it was a passing visit and I had to go pick up the kitties from the cattery, but I would be back.

"Kitties? What are kitties? Why are kitties? Polo?"

From there, it went downhill for Max. Oh, he was happy to lap up the attention and direct me to all his best itchy spots that had been neglected for YEARS by his reckoning, but he was aghast when the saddle pad and roller came out, and he found himself back in the school, working. Working!

"I thought we'd given this up?!" hopeful dark eyes.

"No sir, business as usual."

Oh, he's been a bit grumpy all right, but it's posturing, really. Sunday I arrived and was met with, "Look at him! He heard your car!" and there he was, chattering away in his box as is his wont. Routine re-established, and even if it means he has to do a little work, he's happy with his lot.

As he should be. In Rome, I saw horses that really had to work for their living, pulling carriages of tourists around for hours and hours. It is a charming sight, to see those horses and carriages lined up, but I eventually had to stop looking at them. The same horses I saw trotting down the streets at 8.00 am were still doing it at 9.00 pm. A couple of them I noted to be lame, I could hear it in their footfalls before I saw it with my eyes.

Admittedly, if you weren't acquainted with horses, I don't suppose you'd notice, but I did, and the Ent did, too. A couple of them looked quite old, too, and could only have dreamed of the life that Max has, worry free, all his needs catered for, granted, an hour or so of "work" every day, if you can call a hack out or a bit of schooling, with treats for good behaviour work, and a gaggle of adoring fans to fuss over him, even in my absence.

It's a hard life for the critters, but some critters get lucky. People and horses alike.

I am well aware of that. But Max? Max doesn't know anything but the good life. Unlike many horses, he's never had a cross word spoken (an exasperated one, maybe), never been hit, never been shoved, never been cornered or made to feel helpless, never been pressed to keep on working when he is beyond tired, and always allowed to have an opinion (though sometimes there is debate involved).

I intend to keep it that way. After all, he gives me such a good life in return.