Amigo earned his name largely because of his friendship with Bud.

They’re pals of the first order. It’s rare to see one without the other close by.

Now some of you may think that Amigo is simply an opportunist, hanging out with Bud only to get in on the daily snack regimen that I’ve established. And I’ll acknowledge that could be part of Amigo’s motivation.

But I don’t think it’s the whole story.

Amigo has found his herd, his peeps, his friends.

He’s the youngest member of the Herd of Oldsters – by almost ten years.

He has navicular syndrome – an inflammation or degeneration of the navicular bone and its surrounding tissues, usually on the front feet. It can lead to significant and even disabling lameness.

For Amigo it means he doesn’t compete so well with the young geldings that dominate the larger herd.

Yes, the Herd of Oldsters is the perfect family for him.

But sometimes, Amigo doesn’t get the love and attention he deserves. I don’t write about him as often as Bud and Pepper.

He’s the second banana of sorts.

I don’t mean to oversimplify life, but on some days it seems to me that society divides into two categories: the top bananas and the second bananas.

Top bananas are usually the center of attention. They thrive on it. “Hey you, notice me,” they shout in actual words or actions. When you enter a room (or pasture for that matter), there is never any question about the top bananas.

They may as well be wearing flashing lights.

They’re that obvious.

Second bananas are usually much more subtle.

No flashing lights.

No “Hey, notice me,” actions.

They’re there, doing their thing, but at the end of the day, you may not remember them.

Which would be a huge mistake. Second bananas can be very cool people. And horses.

And they are every bit as deserving of love and attention as those pesky attention-grabbing first bananas.

So Amigo, this post is for you.

Thank you for your loyalty to Bud and the others in the Herd of Oldsters.

It wouldn’t be the same without you.

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