At my last lesson, the instructor had a horse in halter who was hanging about being educated in personal space and ground manners and patience and good citizenship. Instructor taught. Horse stood. Or not.
During lesson, Rodney and I would take breaks to come talk to instructor. We would chat. Rodney would stand. Rodney and I would go back to work. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
And then I heard the rest of the story.
Horse was a mare. Rodney is a gelding. This did not appear to matter. Rodney was entranced with the mare. Every time we stopped, he would drop down. Not a casual, relaxed, life-is-good droop. He would put on a full-scale, lounge lizard, hey-what’s-your-sign, what’s-a-nice-mare-like-you-doing-in-a-place-like-this display. Every time we stopped. Every time.
The mare was not impressed.