Ladies and gentlemen: Cletus has entered the building!

A little after midnight, Sweetie foaled out Cleo’s long-legged, short-coupled chestnut filly: three white socks and a star. She’s been textbook so far from a veterinary perspective, which is terrific. I have almost exactly zero experience with foals—I did foalwatch at the Thoroughbred breeding farm that Lendon Gray trains out of while I was in college, for extra cash—so I’m very grateful that I am not in charge. I chose not to fly out of bed in the middle of the night, so I first came to see them early this morning.

Straight from the Hallmark Channel, I pulled up to the barn, a crisp and picturesque morning, Michael Buble’s “Just Haven’t Met You Yet” on the radio, and as I stood outside their stall and said to my snoozing filly, “Hello, baby horse!” she picked her little head up and nickered at me.

Swoon!

They’ll be turned out tomorrow for the first time, and I’m hoping to sneak away for some video and photos, but I took a camera-full in the stall. She is a little shy yet, but much more outgoing than any of the Thoroughbred babies I met.

Sweetie is delightful—protective, but not ridiculously so, and I grease the wheels by coming armed with carrots and grooming tools. And filly’s a looker: legs for miles, which is to be expected, but also deliciously short-coupled, with a wonderful sloping croup that shouts piaffe-passage machine.

So enough of my gushing: World, meet Fairvoya S. She’s gonna knock your socks off.