From that day forward, Lila wanted to see Jasper every chance she got. She’d toddle to the back door with her little shoes in hand and say, “Horsey? Horsey?” until I gave in.
At first, I only allowed short visits. Ten minutes of brushing his mane while I stood right beside her. But Jasper had this uncanny patience. He would stand still as a statue while Lila babbled to him, patted his flank, or buried her face in his mane. Sometimes she’d hum little songs to him, her cheek pressed against his neck. And he never moved away. If anything, he seemed to lean closer.Continue reading…
