Our mare looks very pregnant.
We scratch our heads, phone a friend. A distant memory returns from last spring of reaching for head collars and lead ropes in a panic.
Our mare was joined in a field by a randy chestnut stallion, Po, who at that time, had not been de-balled.
The dastardly deed done, now we wait. We contemplate possible names for the surprise foal.
The usuals come up like Beauty and Sandy; all boring and predictable. Then my six year old suggests with a giggle we called the new arrival god ( I dropped the capital ‘G’ there to avoid being blasphemous. God might be listening, or following this blog. I think it’s blasphemous to even suggest that. I’m digging a hole for myself now. If anything bad happens to me now, this blog post will be cited as the reason).
God (start of a sentence, therefore, not blasphemous), she announced would be a great name because in the morning questions could be asked like;
“Did you give water to god“, or “Did you give god his hay” or my personal favourite, “go and let god out of the stable“.
Anyway, at this stage, we’re just hoping for a healthy foal. Will keep you posted (God probably already knows).