“Oh, Ronnie,” Kay requested, “bring along the ointment for the navel cord. Thank you.”

Quickly and semi-quietly, they all walked down the aisle to gaze adoringly into Vixen’s stall, and at the new addition to the population of equine.

Loaded with clean towels and a bag full of apples and carrots – it just seemed the thing to do – Kay heard the soft nickers from “Vixen,” as she was finishing cleaning her beautiful baby, which was still damp from being born.

After a few minutes of allowing the bonding to take place, Kay couldn’t take it, she had to get into the stall. It was cool this morning and application of the ointment to the end of the navel cord needed done, as even well kept public barns could harbor bacteria of all sorts. Vixen started to lay her ears back, as a warning, then, thought better of it. She heard her morning grain being poured and the fresh hay in the rack; and now the brushing of her coat felt so good. Oops! What was this, a damp cloth cleaning her on the underside? The mare looked around to her baby and nickered, as the little filly was trying its best to get her long and spindly legs in just the right spot to hold her upright.

Kay and Ronnie heard Chuck calling, as he was entering. “Have I missed it all? Here’s your clothes,” as he placed them on the bench outside the stall. “Well, you girls sure look a mess, but the foal looks good,” he said ducking, as Ronnie gave him a passing swing.

Dr. Pat arrived, and, after checking mare and foal, she gave the all-clear signal, along with some after care advice and medications. Then, she suggested that they all meet at the local diner for breakfast.

Returning after breakfast and walking the now vacant aisle toward Vixen’s stall, Kay saw the fellow boarders had been busy.

Tacked on and spanning the width of the stall hung a white sign, scripted with blue paint that read, Mare-ternity Ward. Leaning against the outside of the stall were two bales of hay, plus a bag of grain. Hanging on the stall latch was a small pink halter, graced with crystals that someone had quickly glued to it. Every pink ribbon and yarn the youngsters had found was tied in bows, along the top edge of the stall, in the very best of half-hazard fashion.

Carefully removing the small pink halter from the stall latch, Kay entered, and giving the mare a hug, she then quietly moved toward the now dozing, small chestnut filly, who’s hairy, tiny muzzle had small flecks of mare’s milk drying on it. Telling both how much she loved them, Kay left mare and filly, and closing the stall, she sat on the nearest bale of hay, and, while clutching the tiny halter to her chest, she looked, thankfully, up towards the clear blue sky, and tears of joy gently slid down her cheeks for – now there are two.