Calling for Spots

It had been more than fourteen years since a baby horse was born on my dad’s hobby farm in Leesburg, Georgia. So, when I heard him delightfully sing over the phone, “She is here and she is perfect,” the morning of February 23rd, he nor I could have been more thrilled. Her golden coat and precisely even hind socks were the back drop to a rump-covering, white blanket— appaloosa perfection!  As I carried on through the longest workday ever, I thought about how much of my life is attached to an appaloosa.

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