Really and truly, has it been eight months?  Have I really spent the last eight months coddling this big boy of mine and spoiling him completely rotten?  Not a day goes by that he is not pet, brushed, loved on, and babied.  If not by me, by some other kind soul who wanders down our aisle at the barn and sees his big, wide face poking out of his stall.  Ryon is so utterly spoiled that at this point, he doesn't think he's a horse anymore.  Case in point: On Sunday we were hanging out in the arena and someone had left her water bottle (the plastic kind with the big straw sticking out of the top) behind.  I took my eyes off Ryon for one minute and he has the straw in his mouth, water bottle dangling from his lips and is gulping away.  "What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine, mom" is what his face seemed to say.

Still, my gigantic "puppy" sticks his head out in the evenings to greet me.  He listens to me whine and complain about random things in my life whilst wiping his dirty nose on my clothes.  We've eaten dinner together, him draping my hair full of straw.  And right when you think he's being nasty or mean, he switches tactics and you realize that he's only asking for attention and a scratch on his velvet nose.

Isn't that what we're all kind of looking for in life?  A bit of attention and a scratch on the nose?  And maybe a treat or two please, mom.