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wild horses

Trapper died sometime in the wee hours of this morning from old age. Babygirl called me at the sawmill to tell me about finding him in the corner of the pasture by the gate under a pecan tree. His road dog Pride is whinnying like a baby out in the lot right now. A few apple slices and some cucumbers should make it all better for the moment. Trap was born the year we moved into the house back in '88 and has been a part of the scenery ever since. Pride came along later through some kinda horse tradin' deal that Daddy did. My horse sources say that he'll grieve himself to death pretty soon since he's even older than Trapper was.

These guys have done nothing but graze and plot to bust out fences for the past ten years or so...helluva retirement for both of them. I remember when it felt sort of weird to wake up and see a horse in the yard, but then it got to be old hat after I learned to open the gate and herd 'em in with the Camry. Just like a couple of men, I swear.

I have a friend who's about to venture into the b**g world so ya'll keep an eye out for her stuff. She's a horse whisperer herself, and a newlywed. We go wayyyyyyyyy back.
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