[miss marmelstein]

Fascinating to meet someone who knows the history of the poor war horses! On my wall - right now in front of me - is my grandfather on his war horse. It was taken in 1915. They were also used to pull ambulances.

In the play, the horses continually trade sides in the war - one minute with the British, the next with the Germans and once rescued by French peasants.

Of course, the British love and adore horses and dogs and so would naturally honor their service. I think we Americans picked up that trait from them. If you can google a photo of the London memorial for yourself, I think you’ll like it.

[AnAmericanMother]

My dad handled pack mules in Italy in the winter of '43-'44. They figured the cav. guys would have the know-how. But anybody who thinks a mule doesn't have a choice has never handled a mule!

I think I see the concept, and I like it. It seems that the scrawny little overloaded pack mules will pass through the gate and be ennobled, like the beautiful creatures on the other side.

And if that's not a Lab, I'll eat a cup of my pups' kibble. Not feathery enough and too much muzzle for a Golden. It can't be a Chessie in England, it's a relatively rare breed even here.

I've so often seen that affectionate, waiting look back as my girls race ahead on their adventures. "Come on! Come on! Hurry! It's beautiful!"