Frosty’s fantastic finale

I took a deep breath of the cool night air and backed Frosty out of the trailer. It was 1963 and we had just arrived at the Thunderbird Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.

The sun had not quite set, but all around us the bright lights of this neon city were awakening to illuminate the approaching darkness.

As I led Frosty to the rear entrance of the casino and stopped, I noticed signs of apprehension---a tightness around his mouth and a stiffened tail. His left ear was cocked in my direction. He was listening for words of reassurance.

I had first met Frosty at a friend’s barn nine years before. Nobody wanted the undersized orphan. As I looked into his stall, my blonde hair cascaded over the door and the foal came forward and buried his face in it. I slipped into his stall and stroked his back. Cupping one of his fuzzy ears in my hand I spoke quietly to him. He looked at me as if he understood.

I was lost in his gaze. I had spent my whole life looking