We are farm sitting for friends. They have four horses, two sheep, a dozen chickens, three dogs, a llama, a donkey, and several cats.
Princess is the charming 35-year-old horse who the other horses tend to pick on. She spends her days in a separate part of the barn, or in her own yard.
She has just walked past the kitchen window for the third time in as many minutes. Something is bothering her. I go outside.
Me: What's the matter?
Princess: I don't like that thing.
Me: (looking around) What thing?
Princess: That thing.
She's pointing her nose at the pickup truck. A blue garbage bag that I'd shoved into the door to keep out the rain is flapping in the wind.
Princess: I don't like it.
I grab the bag and stuff it into the cab of the truck.
Princess: Yup. Now let's go inside.
We walk to the barn. I open the door and let her in. She stops on her way to her stall to investigate a canvass sack lying by her food bin.
Princess: What's that?
Me: It's a bag.
Princess: What's in it?
Me: You know what's in it. Keep moving.
She looks at me with giant brown eyes.
Princess: Craig would give me what's in that bag, y'know.
Me: Craig's not here. Get in your stall, you big sook.
She walks into her stall. I remove her halter and hang it on its nail. I reach into the canvass sack and pull out an apple. She snaps it in half with her teeth.
Princess: I knew you'd give me one.
Me: Don't talk with your mouth full.