Maybe it’s just the fact that an animal can be so connected to you. Maybe it’s because he literally relies on you to take care of him. Maybe it’s because horses really do know how to make a best friend out of someone, and that in and of itself is a remarkable quality in a creature. Born To Be Wild had befriended me the moment he was coherent enough to do so. He was given a stall by Jack’s office so we could keep a close eye on him, and he always seemed to be at the stall door, watching everything going on that he could. He was able to recognize my voice by the third day we had him. It didn’t matter where I was in the barn, but if he could hear me, he would whinny to let me know it. Sometimes I would even holler something around the corner, just to see if he was paying attention. He never let me down, even when Jack and I were arguing about the Raiders and the Forty-Niners, Born To Be Wild seemed to yell at Jack, just to show he supported me. The week after we’d rescued Wild, Greg came by the stables to see him.
