They say (I don't know who, just they) that horses are colour blind. I imagine being completely colour blind means you see everything in shades of grey. Like watching my old TV. Except I could imagine colour and in my mind imagined what colours Casey and Finnegan really were. Horses, having never seen colour before wouldn't know it exists.
Patches was the horse I grew up with. A beautiful Canadian mix kind of mutt with a thick neck and round rump. He was smart and full of mischief. We went away for a week to a riding camp and when we left, the house bordering his pasture was pale yellow. To him perhaps pale grey. When we returned, the house had been painted a pale blue. To him, I imagined this would also look pale grey.
I let him loose in his pasture and laughed as he galloped from one end to the other, tail raised, snorting and huffing at this house, who was no longer pale grey, but instead, pale grey. Obviously what I imagined about the sight of a horse was a tad off. Regardless, it caused excitement in his day.
Today, I'm watching guys paint the store across the road from my office. It used to be pale grey. Now it's bright blue. If I were a horse, what a day I'd have.