"Walking alone through the big gates I stood in the street and waited for a bus.
I felt lonely. When a man has lived with a horse, eaten with a horse, swum with a horse, slept with a horse, travelled a lone with a horse for months on end - hundreds of miles - the world seems empty without him. I could no longer hear his footsteps by my side."

William Holt "Ride a White Horse"

I am of course less than a beginner in horse travelling, yet this passage rings echoes in my mind. In a few weeks, the ponies have taken residence in my soul, like my cats did, a long time ago.
I must travel for a few days to Italy, and my heart bleeds. Leaving my cats and, now, also my horses, is a hard, hard thing. To a person you can explain why you must go, and that, crossing fingers, pressing thumbs, or whatever it is that you do to ward off evil in your own country, you will soon be back. But furries do not understand this, and the last look they give you while you close the door is always heartbreaking.