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As we walk, we reach an area where some goats stand around. They bleat toward us, and I walk over. “These are all senior goats. They can’t make milk, but we don’t want anyone hurting them, so they get to live here. There are lots more younger goats out in the pastures too. We receive a goat or two every few weeks. I guess they are cute when they’re little but not so cute when they have eaten all of the mother’s plants and jump on the antique car in the garage.” And I can’t stop from laughing just thinking of all the trouble they get into.
“Interesting,” he replies, touching one, who nibbles on his hand with her gums.
“She’s got no teeth,” Robert gasps.
“Yeah, that’s another thing. Ginger there does love others and would be great as a farm goat, but she doesn’t have her teeth. She has a rare dental disease, so we have to feed her a liquid diet. But she does love some gummy finger kisses.”
He laughs and then pulls his fingers away.
We walk down the rest of the pastures, from the horses, where they hang out in both the barn and the open area, to a small herd of cows.
“All of the animals are given a second chance. We even have a bunch of barn cats running around.”
A meow echoes to my right as Torrence, the blackest cat on the sanctuary property, scurries past us.
“He’s probably trying to catch mice or something,” I reason.
“You’ve got quite the team living here already,” Robert reasons.
“Of course. It’s just nice, seeing all the animals move around and get another chance at a happy life.”
That’s what brings me here every chance I get. We walk down, seeing more animals, including a fenced in area with a couple of foxes that aren’t able to go back into the wild and one a coyote that’s also at risk of being hurt if she goes out. After we finish the tour, I head back over toward the barn area.
“Clover’s over here.”
I walk through the barn to another part of the building. An enthusiastic whinny echoes through the hall as I get near to her.
“There she is!”
I speed up, and I hear Robert’s footsteps following me. We get there, and I see Clover raising her head with approval. She can always tell when I’m nearby.
“There you are!” I clamor, reaching for her mane to give it a gentle pet and a hug. Clover raises her head, meeting my motions. As Robert approaches, his hand grabs the stall.
“This is Clover, then,” he asks.
“Yep. She’s my pride and joy: a senior horse who still loves to go out riding. We’re thinking of having her compete at some point in the elder rodeo games.”
“That would be one heck of a show. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It is. I’ve gone to one about fifty miles from here and it’s quite a show,” I reply. “Do you want to pet her? She’s very gentle and loves attention.”
“Sure.”
I open the gate, and Clover steps out. He touches her, and Clover whinnies her approval. I stand there, smiling at the sight. He’s so gentle with the animals and genuinely seems to care.
“She likes you.”
“I’m glad she does. I like her too.”
My heart flutters upon hearing that. I grab the brush to begin to brush her. A minute later, I feel a presence behind me and Robert’s hot breath against my ears.
“Allow me.”
I step back, crimson red, as I watch Robert brush my horse. The black shirt that he wears does little to hide his muscular arms. The muscles move as he brushes the horse up and down. The jeans he wears, high-quality work jeans from Dickies, cling to his body. He does know how to dress the part right down to some rather worn cowboy boots, despite being a rich guy who spends most of his time in his office.
“Good job,” I praise, finally reeling my thoughts in. I probably shouldn’t be spending the entire afternoon ogling Robert like that.But ogle I do.
We finish with Clover and as we walk back to the entrance, the sky is on fire with the beautiful setting sun. Oranges, reds and even some pinks compete to be the most beautiful hue before the inevitable sinking into the horizon.
