Sleep Over

When my friend asked me to house-sit her ranch for the weekend, she invited me to bring Ransom too. It was all the excuse I needed to hook up the trailer that's been sitting dormant since Christmas. Spending the night alone in an unfamiliar barn would be good experience for Ransom, and good preparation for our upcoming overnight trip to the coast.

When I put Ransom in his new stall, he seemed to take it in stride. But when I turned him out in the small field a few hours later, he heard the neighbor's horse whinny and realized the full scope of his solitary status. And for about two minutes, he lost his mind - mouth open and blaring anxious screams to the stranger he couldn't see but thought he desperately needed. However, it didn't take long for him to decide that getting to eat dried grass was worth being alone.

Dinner provided a welcome distraction, but didn't fully alleviate Ransom's anxiety. He walked into the stall to grab a bit of hay, and then back to the paddock to scan the surroundings while he chewed. In and out. In and out. One moment the air was filled with noisy chewing; the next it was silent -- long stems of hay hanging from his mouth as he listened to the distant howls of dogs echoing up the canyon. Because apparently, one cannot chew and listen at the same time.

Chew, chew.
Silence.
Chew, chew, chew.
Silence.

He swung his head around to watch a deer dart up the hillside, the white sclera around his eye giving him a wide-eyed look. And then back into the stall he went for the long night ahead.