Waves of empathy are flowing from me to the horse at the bottom of the field, the corralled one with the bad leg(s). With the nasty things happening to my left leg, I am as forlorn as McGonagall's horse "A horse is a sad thing, naught is forlorner, It stands in a field, with a leg at each corner."
And I know the corralled skewbald feels the same. I would like to go, or more accurately hobble, over there and have a chat with him, just to let him know about my fellow feelings for his plight. Unfortunately, I don't speak horse.
Maybe if I stuffed a Babel Fish in his ear.......
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