It's fall now and Fame would have just been putting on his winter coat. Plush and fuzzy, I'd complain that he looked like a moose , but love it anyway. I could spend forever brushing him, and stroking that soft silky fur while is head rested gently on my shoulder. He would sign deeply and in great satisfaction. In winter I would tuck my cold hands underneath his blanket and absorb his heat and his smell. He was like a ray of sunshine to bust through the winter grey. I would anticipate spring when I could spend copious amounts of time with a shedding blade. The dead winter hair coming off in clouds and little by little my sleek, handsome, red-bay horse would reemerge, leaving his moose guise on the ground.
I lived for these moments. It gave me a reason to crawl out of bed in the morning, to trudge through another lousy day at work. To lift that manure fork one more time even if I was past exhaustion. I didn't feel so forsaken and alone. I had friends at the barn who understood my passion, and recognized my gifts and talents. They didn't try to stamp out my fire for the sake of "usefulness".
When I was sad I'd escape to the barn for a while and come back settled. Now I just eat.
Fame made me a better me. I miss him.