So she’s fostering me. I mean fostering WITH me. I had a spare pen, and you see, along with more issues with my age then she does with hers.
She’s old; nearly worn out. Her coat has felted to steel wool, her teeth rounded to nubbins, and there’s a serious hitch in her step. She’s had a spare life with few luxuries but she doesn’t seem to mind. Prairie old. Prairie tough.
I see a little roundness now; she is gaining a belly. She gets a bowl of pellet mush a few times a day. We’ve got mush to spare. This little life doesn’t ask much.
She’s shy and she hates dogs. I can’t get near her feet. She has a bray more like a roar; deep and full, as if she’s taken on part of the language of her coyote adversaries. Maybe they have spared her; she’s no threat now and the prairie would be less without her.
If I take her to the sweet, fresh grass she slowly rubs her nose back and forth, bruising the grass to a finer smell. No nibbles, no teeth. Instead she comes, step by step, to look me in the eye and tell me a story. I’m working with her in my spare time or she’s working with me. I forget. Her ancient heart blossoms with curiosity.
Spare her your sympathy; spare me your congratulations. Fostering a rescue is always a win/win. Yes, there will be a parting in our future, but there’s not a thing special about that.
Anna Blake, Infinity Farm.
(WordPress Photo Challenge is a weekly prompt to share a photo–I enjoy twisting these macro prompts to share our micro life here on the Colorado prairie. My photos are taken with my phone, on my farm. No psych, definitely not high tech.)