Horses cannot howl.
This is the day I cannot forget.
I will describe my mother horse's death in great detail. It's not Thursday today.
I am going to the tanning salon, just minding my own business. It's been a nasty winter. I needed to get some color in my fur. Father horse told me I could skip school today. I am a white horse. Except for the black star. That is why they call me Chove.
I heard a whinnie in the background. "Mother horse?" I asked the faint echo. It didn't answer. Then it hit me... Wasn't mother horse suppose to be in the fields today? I could have sworn that today was her day for cotton. They make her pick cotton every Thursday.
Mother horse isn't in the field today. She is saddling up the other ranchers. The ranch is getting dressed for the performance. They go by the Ranch Dressings. She is ranching up the other saddlers.
Mother horse isn't in the field today. She is dead. Britton will cry for me.
