So among the things I've found exciting about this whole "owning horses" deal is buying new, shiny things. (Seriously, give me half a chance and a bigger budget, and I'm going to be a hell of a tack whore.)
By the time it finally got cold and rainy, I had a plan. My barn friends have blankets that will fit Justice until he's big enough that I won't be buying a new one every year, but Cessa long ago stopped getting bigger. (Well, in the ways that matter - girl isn't exactly a hard keeper...)
She's worn blankets before; it shouldn't have even been an issue. But between the cold weather, a bit of a wind, and the crinkly noises of a new blanket - and hell, maybe the stripes instead of a solid color - she spent over an hour following me around the stall as closely as she could. You could almost see the text over her head:
Mom! Save me from this thing! It's eating me!
By the time I left, she'd gotten over herself, but I was cracking up.
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