I am still going to refer to Bouffe as Bouffe. That's the name he has become and today he lived up to the meaning of his name - a clown or jester.
It wasn't as cold this morning, but I was still feeling lousy. My legs were so stiff I could never have lifted my left leg high enough to put my foot in the stirrup and the right would never had swung over the cantle. Bouffe seemed to notice I was in pain and tried, just a jester would, to cheer me up.
He had a look on his face as if he was almost laughing when he continued to butt me gently with his head until I made him stop when he hit me in the nose, which hurt but I knew he was just playing. He seemed to think it was funny, when he pooped on the floor of the grooming area, and then stomped both of his back hooves in it. I say this because any other time this has happened he is very careful not to step in it.
His eyes expressed how pleased with himself he was and seemed to be waiting for me to laugh at his routine, which I didn't, but feed him apples instead. Bouffe knows he is spoiled and was very appreciative of this treat. I swear when he and I are in that grooming area it isn't just me and a horse. No, we have a special bond just as two good friends would.
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