When I get out of my car, I hear it right away. It’s so soft a bray it almost sounds like a wheeze. Lulu got my number nearly 15 years ago, and she hasn’t forgotten it for a single day.

I turn my head, and her soft nose is sticking out pleadingly from the pasture gate. The bray gets slightly louder until I sigh and head for the barn where the alfalfa treats are.

Then she waits silently at the gate, braying softly again when she hears me lift the pan of the aluminum can where the treats are stored to keep out mice and critters.

I come out of the barn with two treats, one for Lulu, one for Fanny. They gingerly take them out of my hand (I have never been nipped or bitten by these two girls in any way) and crunch away.

We call it her “Jon” bray. She has a different one for Maria, it is louder, more insistent. She doesn’t have to do much to get me to give her a treat.

I have never been able to resist that nose. When I get close, I kiss her on the very edge.

Lulu scores again. By my calculations (often suspect), she has scored at least 5,475 times, and perhaps more. She often gets two or three of those treats a day.