between the cracks

There is a horse in a paddock at the end of the street.

There is a bath tub with water in it for the horse to drink from.

When I visit the horse, it doesn't approach me,

but it does trot along beside me as I walk.

I guess it hopes that I have a carrot or a cube of sugar.

Those are the things that girls give horses in books I have read.

I was never a horsey girl.

This horse I like because it is always there and it is living in the middle of West Footscray, in a paddock surrounded by houses and factories and warehouses and it trots along beside me when I visit.

I have been away from home for nearly two weeks.

I did not tell the horse I was going away.

What do animals think when people they become accustomed to just stop showing up?

Do they feel hurt or get angry?

I imagine they are philosophical.

But I figure the horse must be philosophical in the first place to be at peace with living alone in a paddock surrounded by factories and houses, in the middle of an industrial suburb.

So I hope the gap left by my absence is not too severe.