The slope leading to PurrDee's became to much to expect my dear friend to pull. Against his protests, I chocked the wheels of the loaded van, unhooked the traces, pulled off the harness and removed the bridle.

I asked. "Do you think you can carry a sack or two of the flour and grain?"

Snorting first, he answered, "I'm certain I can carry no less than two sacks on my back. One each of grain and flour."

I kissed the horse's soft warm muzzle. "Thanks my friend. It's not much further to PurrDee's." Lifting a sack of grain and one of flour onto his back I grunt, "We'll be there before we know it."

Taking our time and stepping carefully, we continued to the top of the slope that opened onto the shelf where PurrDee had her home. Normally I could see the house from here but not now. Numerous visits to PurrDee's now provided me with a mental map of how many steps before I should reach the house.

A sudden whirlwind of snow stopped us until it passed. We moved on then I heard a familiar voice calling, "Who's there? Valenta! Is that you?"

"Yes." I called back. "It is I and my equine friend."

By that time PurrDee was upon us. Hatless and without her cloak she reached for my hand. Gratefully my friend and I followed her through the growing flakes, to her cozy house.