A Great Miracle Happened Here

Every year, our Israeli friend gives dreidels to the children. He brings these dreidels back from Israel, and explained to me the diffence between American and Israeli dreidels: The American ones say "A great miracle happened there," and the Israeli ones say "A great miracle happened here." I don't know why, but that has always stuck with me.

So, A Great Miracle Happened Here. Or There, depending on where you are at this moment.

For me, it is Here, so let me tell you what it is.

Argus is wearing a blanket. And standing in his stall, eating. Out of the rain.

Last night, I was hopeful. Argus almost casually stood in his stall, eating dinner. It was raining, and all seemed well. Hooray! I could sleep, knowing that he was not out there freezing his little white Thoroughbred butt off. After all, I can't possibly rest on a cold, stormy night without knowing that all 10 of the Watermark Farm horse residents are encased in thousands of dollars of waterproof, breathable winter gear. Come to think of it, even the names of those expensive horse blankets (I can only dream of the day when I might own a $250 Gortex jacket) denote strength and assurance: Rambo, Horses In Black.

This morning, the heavens opened, dumping enough rain to float an ark. Argus was soaked clear through to the skin. He'd spend the night standing in the pouring rain and by 8am was shaking so hard you could practically hear his teeth knocking together.

"That's it!" I cried out, "YOU are going to wear a blanket RIGHT NOW."

I grabbed the trusty, horse-eating, 12-year-old Rambo and marched into the stall. Argus let me retrieve him from the paddock without issue, mostly because he was too damn cold to argue. This was my Big Chance to prove to him that blankets are lovely, warm things that could make his life easier.

My left hand on the lead rope, my right hand on the blanket. My eyes watching Argus for some sign he was planning to integrate my body into the shavings on the floor. I was not about to take "No!" for an answer. I knew Argus knew it. He put up a half-hearted protest, circling around me in the stall. I slid the rug up over his neck, gently and quietly. Then unfolded it on his back and slid it in place as best I could. He did not go crazy. He knew we needed to do this. I buckled the chest, took a deep breath and reached under for the belly straps. And then, it was on!

No big deal!!

Fifteen minutes later, Argus stood eating in his stall, snuggled down happily in his newest discovery, The Horse Blanket, a look of great contentment on his face.