My sister’s elegant nosedive is followed by a swift scramble through the electrified fence to the edge of the paddock as I also run to make place for this impromptu break-dancer.
Ace performance. Back arched, manes, nostrils and stirrups soaring through the air with her feet barely, if ever, touching the ground. Just a whirlwind flying through our paddock. It seemed to last for an eternity. I don’t know if the on and off leaning into the electric fence spurred her on or eventually slowed her down. But we mainly credit her visiting friend, Calypso the gelding, for telling her that, enough is enough.
Eventually her pupils returned and the white of her eyes, by now a little bloodshot, disappeared. She had had a good workout. Hell, we’d all had a good workout.
Maybe the extra 40 kilo’s my sister put on since our childhood years made all the difference, or have I lost my touch already?