Clyde Pride

Jill had not wanted any training to be the fill in person for the barn chores -- it was too much gas money and too long in the car for unpaid time.

When she got to the DRAFT horse facility, she felt like a person standing on the edge of a cliff. A person who had gone on and on about not having a fear of heights, only to find themselves slightly trepidacious in the face of giant potential danger. ha.

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The one Percheron mare on the Clyde farm was the one who would turn out to be her favourite. Some horses respond better to the kissy kissy type of relationship than the tough guy yelling-at-them-for-everything-they-do-wrong-type-treatment... and those were usually horses that Jill had LOTS of luck with. Or ignored. Or the ones who had been really bullied or beaten...

Jill won that particular gal over with a small bit of plum, dropped in the mare's feed bucket in passing, on "break". She'd done it simply to interest the mare, brighten her day a bit, but had apparently bowled her over entirely, ha.

She realized it months later, when Jill met her again at the Royal Winter Fair. The horse who was known to turn her back feet to the door and let feet fly on occasion, once feel asleep as Jill whispered sweet nothings from her stall door in the very busy and stressful show environment and another time perked up cheerfully to sniff Jill and her young riding students friends in greeting as they worried in unison about her empty water bucket... and, pat her "illegally" through the stall bars as the mare dunked her muzzle into her water bucket and made some chewing motions with her mouth. She looked happy and relazed

In the end they'd agreed they didn't need to find or ask her caretaker to fill the water bowl because her lips were still wet! She didn't actually need water, she was just wanting to be spoiled. Jill was flattered even to be asked.