There is no blankie with satin bound edges that is as soft and comforting as the muzzle of a horse.
And, though my heroes (Buck Brannaman, Will James, Ray Hunt, and Robbin Wright) might all cringe to see it happen, I do love to kiss that muzzle. Wrigley doesn't object. Wrigley really doesn't object to much.
Or sometimes we just stand, nose to nose, and I gently blow into her paisley-shaped nostrils and she inhales. Then she gently blows out and I inhale. We'll do this for awhile. Her breath smells sweet, warm, grassy. My breath, on the other hand...It's wrong, dangerous, and disrespectful even, to behave that way -- sticking my nose in her business. Or is it the other way around?
Maybe she likes people noses too. I'll ask her.
