His name is Jasper, and I’ve had him for almost five years. The nicest horse you ever do see. Loyal, calm, and a little nosy, especially around new people. He has never been bad. Up until that morning.
The plan was for a short trail ride and a stop at the county fairgrounds for an event in the area. There was a meet-and-greet for the mounted police unit, so I thought Jasper should go say hello.
As we walked up to the barn, a group of police officers stood with a guard horse and smiled. All of them looked like they were friendly—they wore standard green outfits with badge patches and utility belts. Then Jasper stopped moving.
Like, stopped moving.
Not going to move another inch. Ears pulled back. Not taking deep breaths. And he had his eyes fixed on the second cop from the left. A tall man with a dark green cap and a friendly smile.
At first, I laughed it off. “I guess he doesn’t like pants, huh?”
