BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

  This sign, which used to be in TL's arcade, now sits in our yard and tells me to Be Amazing. I find this rather redundant since being amazing is as natural to me as eating or breathing. All that aside, I do find the sign striking with its twinkling lights and vibrant colors.  TL, who made the sign, tells us it might look nice mounted to the roof of my little barn. What do you think? 

  After some negotiation and exchange of words like "motheaten" and "raggedy", Farmwife talked me into enduring the roaching of my mane, which I had rubbed on the fence while reaching for delectable edibles at my previous home. We both agreed on four things: 1)  it was essential to retain my forelock, which is a thing of splendor that adds greatly to my dashing good looks. I'll get a picture for you tomorrow. 2) once the cut has grown out a bit, she will give me those fancy castle turrets that she used to style for Fenway.  3) we owe our dear readers a better photo, when I have not just rolled in the mud.  4) there is no hairstyle capable of making me look anything but marvelous. 

I never got to meet Uncle Fenny but I hear a lot about him and sometimes I think I feel his presence. He would have wanted me to give you an update, as there are some very exciting things happening in our family now—things he would have very much wanted for us.  Fenway Bartholomule died, as you may well remember, on the eve of Farmwife's 39th birthday. He went suddenly and peacefully and we still don't know why. He was 22. He was living at our good friend's place, since the family home had been sold in a divorce. Those were strange years. Farmwife sometimes thinks he stayed just long enough to help her find herself, and left when he knew she'd be ok. I joined the family in 2021, and I've passed this time living at a family member's house among myriad horses, ponies, rabbits, dogs, and chickens. I was happy enough there, but Farmwife and I never got to know one another as closely as we both would have liked. Most days, I didn't see her. Farmwife was living i...