Feet Cleaning

I run my hands down the horse's front leg. "Come now," I tell him, "pick up your leg." I have to be gentle. No rushing him. I'm no horse whisperer, but I know that much. If I position myself just right, my head facing his tail, my left shoulder near his side--I'll be able to grab his hoof and pull it towards me. He'll lean his body weight onto me as as I hold his hoof to pick out the manure and stones that have collected there. I'll groan under the weight, but find comfort in it. It will be a strange intimacy. If he moves, spooks, stomps, or kicks--I'll be hurt. I'm vulnerable. Yet if ever I've known what it is like to love an animal it will be in this moment. I'll be simply cleaning his feet, but I'll love him in that moment.