Last night was a horrible night. It’s a rule that horses are not supposed to be left alone in the pasture at night; if you are getting your horse out, and there’s one left, you bring that one in too and throw him in a stall so that it won’t panic and get into trouble. I get to the stable last night after work, all the other horses are already snug in their stalls, and Kip is somewhere out in the dark and the rain. I walked for ages, called Phil, and we both went out again with flashlights, stumbling around in the dark and the deep mud on the lethally steep hillsides, looking and calling for him. It was very windy, and there was a cold, horizontal rain soaking us (my mobile is now toast due to a soaking). The owner of the farm came out to help, and he and Phil drove over all the far pastures on one of the tractors. No sign of Kip anywhere. I walked fences for ages, looking for gaps or a large bay horse caught in the wire. We walked along the river and through as much of the woods as we could, although that was impossible in the dark. Finally, after hours of searching, we gave up.
This morning we went back to search, and he was there in a group of horses, grazing without a care in the world. I was so very relieved that we’d found him, but my strongest, most overwhelming desire was to kick him hard in his fat ass. The bastard was probably snug in a thicket somewhere, watching us search and call for him.
After the hours in the freezing rain and wind last night, I feel like crap today, so I called in sick. Phil is equally tired, but he went to work. Later on today I’ll go back out to the stable, and try to refrain from kicking his ass…tough though it may be. ;)
I was so afraid that he’d been stolen (there were tire tracks in one of the pastures), or hurt, or had escaped into the cattle pastures or out onto the roads or something. So afraid.