Horses are the best thing to step foot off of the Ark and the oldies are most definitely the goodies. The old men and ladies of the equine world with their patented personalities and particular crankiness make my day.
One oldster at my farm, Dream, will pin her ears, pinch her nostrils and threaten to kick all while sidling up to you in hopes of having a treat held out toward her anger stiffened lips. You would think she absolutely abhorred being patted by her facial expressions and body language, but she moves in closer if you stroke her neck. Typical woman, some might say.
Tucket, our resident curmudgeon, lumbers around like an elephant. Food rules his world. Beware if he spies your approach bearing grain or hay; he may run you over in his eagerness to begin the meal. Some days he is a perfect gentleman as you lead him out to his paddock, others he gallumphs off, his handler flying in his wake like the tail on a kite. Don't try to figure him out, even he doesn't know what's up.
My old paint, Cue, who is now a lesson horse in a friend's school program, is unbelievably 20 years old. I still think of him as a teenager, which is not entirely inappropriate as his manners can be rather juvenile. He is a wonderful guy, but still spooks in fear at plastic bag and fallen log monsters. When nervous, he dances, prances and takes off like a 2 year old with a bee on his butt. He is what he is.
Offering peace and comfort to these amazing creatures in their elder years should be a natural part of ownership. I wish I could take all the old ones and park them at my farm. Watching their geriatric grouchiness can be habit forming.
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