War Horse is very fast and strong. He is good Horse. War Horse knows he is good because Captain Jeremy says so. But even good Horses sleep outside sometimes, like when Captain Jeremy is too busy with Other Captains or women to cuddle War Horse. This makes War Horse cold in body, and also heart.

I am War Horse. I was not sure when writing first paragraph, but since then I have begun to understand concepts like individualism and the use of the first person. I still no understand math.

Sometimes Jeremy brushes War Horse and gives me raspberries. This is not like real raspberries, like humans eat. More like an affectionate way of going “bluh bluh bluh bluh bluh” with his lips into my neck and stomach regions. Then he says “I love you” so quiet that no Other Horses can hear. War Horse does not like this. War Horse would prefer real raspberries.

Other Horses, like Big War Horse, Small War Horse, and Donkey, all say the same thing. “Man, he is playing with you, dog,” they say. I ignore them because I am not a dog. I am a Horse.

Whenever War Horse confronts Jeremy about keeping relationship behind closed stables, he says “woah!” or “settle down there.” Or, least favorite, he will say something like “you just have to know how to connect with them” and then wink at blonde whore he has brought. And it’s like: we all know she is prostitute Jeremy. Me and Other Horses all know. Just stop.

War Horse is getting old. Other Horses tell me so, and even Captain Jeremy, when he wants to hurt my feelings. I just hope I marry before I pass. And I hope Captain Jeremy is my bride.