when I was younger my dad had a horse
27, castrated, but still a goddamn nut
my dad would tell me to pick up the horse from the hills (unless we had work to do, the horse would usually graze on the hills)
he would always run free from me because I was a goddman kid and couldn't keep him in check
he would ruin our and our neighbor cucumber crops
then my dad would run after the horse for a entire hour while screaming and cursing
because he was usually drunk
after that he would give the horse a good beating (as if that would solve anything)
anyway, some years passed and he got older and milder to the point where he was almost easy to deal with
unfortunately he couldn't carry the cart filled with wood anymore so my dad sold it to the local zoo to be fed to the lions
I guess that's what you get for 30 something years worth of service