Dear horse who tore, riderless, through the royal wedding procession,
You are welcome here. I understand your actions (how boring all that pomp and circumstance must have been, and how irksome that rejoicing crowd!) and I forgive you for them. I am not so sure that Her Royal Highness Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, would agree. I hereby invite you to take refuge in the witness protection program, by which means you might be discreetly relocated to scenic Wickersham, Washington. I will ask FarmWife to felt for you some prosthetic ears. We shall dye your star black. You can learn to plow with me, and we shall have all sorts of fun.
Your consoling friend,