The husband’s grandmother died this morning. Apparently it was really true this time. His mother took the news at face value. If it had been up to me I would have gone to the nursing home and poked her with my finger to see if she moved this time before accepting the news as final. Everything seems to be going smoothly possibly because it was all practiced a few weeks ago. The husband’s sister apparently is having some sort of breakdown that she didn’t have before because of her grandmother’s death. She hadn’t seen her in at least seven years to the best of my knowledge so I’m not real convinced by this sudden outpouring of grief. But they have a strange family who will swear up and down that they are adoring and close while not being able to be in the same state as each other.

In happier news, Prize came home today. She’s been at finishing school for 6 months. I knew Spirit would be mad about me bringing her home. They have a love/hate relationship that is weighted towards the hate. I was mostly worried about Rosie. She’s not real bright and she wants to be a bully. I figured she’d try to pick a fight with Prize and Prize would flatten her because she is smart and IS a bully. Then I’d have to explain it to Rosie’s people.

When I unloaded Prize from the trailer Spirit seemed excited to see her. They were out in the pasture and he was calling to her and running the fence line. I found this odd. I put Prize in her new stall and went to get the other horses. Spirit had puffed himself up as befitted his self-appointed role as herd stallion. He went prancing towards the barn. I let him go in by himself since he seemed so excited to see her and I followed leading Rosie. He looks great when he is in full show-off mode. No one would guess he’s 30. But his eyes must not be what they once were, Lord love ‘im. He pranced all the way to the second stall before he recognized the occupant of the third stall. He came to a screeching halt, stared for a second, then turned and walked into his stall. He’s now refusing to make eye contact with me and I’m assuming he will be pouting for at least a few days. Poor guy. I know he thought that we had gotten rid of her for good this time.

Rosie, meanwhile, wanted to see. I put her in her stall. I figured it was safest to let them sniff through the wall. But Rosie wanted to see. So she reared up in an attempt to see over the eight foot high stall wall. If that wasn’t enough she decided to brace her front feet on the top of the wall so she could stay up there for a longer look. I got her down before she broke a leg and decided to let them meet face to face. I brought Rosie to the front of Prize’s stall to let them sniff through the bars. Normal horse meetings involve sniffing, loud squeals, head tossing, and pawing – and those are meetings between friends. I stayed far out of the way while holding Rosie’s lead. Nothing happened. Rosie stared at Prize with a look best compared to a starstruck teenager. Prize could not be bothered to give Rosie the time of day. She glanced at her and then totally ignored her. I’ve never seen horses act that way before. Prize wouldn’t even sniff her. I believe the regency romance novelists call this attitude “cutting someone dead.” I don’t know what this means for the future when they have to share a pasture. It would be ok if Prize doesn’t feel the need to pound Rosie to a pulp but I’m not sure I need a starstruck Rosie following Prize’s every move.