... and, boy, is Jack pissed. Even under a fly mask I could read his body language and ears: "Oh, no! Not HIM again!"
It took Al almost 30 minutes of prancing and snorting to figure out where he was before the games began in earnest. The whole 90 days he was at the trainer's he was stalled, except for lesson sessions. Talk about stored up energy... he must've rolled six separate times before he spotted Jack and gave a few good chases. Jack finally found a hiding spot behind the barn and holed up there while Al trotted and flagged his way around the fence line. Jewel gave him a short meet 'n greet and then promptly wheeled and kicked him in the chest. Undeterred, Al came back for more and the two of them ran kicking and farting all over the paddock for another 15 minutes.
Poor Jack remained sullenly hidden behind the barn until I took pity upon his woeful countenance and called him to the sanctuary of the back yard. Having sole dominion over the few remaining blades of REAL grass around here and a peppermint treat seemed to buoy his spirits. He'll get his own 30 day vacation next week when he goes to stay with the vet for his new round of experimental drugs for the eye sarcoid (Thanks to info provided by Solo!) What the heck. It's only money, right?
The Prodigal Son has returned and, for now, things are back to normal at Rancho FH.
