what upsets him  --  and, I think, the reason horses in particular seem so upset around him  --  is that horses tend to adopt the prejudice and attitude of their owners.  most of those farming folk are scared of dulu.  most of them are also very racist, being out in rural florida.  those horses wouldn’t like dulu anyway  --  nevermind the public bias against him.

he gets along best with wild animals;  if not wild animals, animals that cannot see, or animals that belong to people who wouldn’t wish ill on him.

shaman, though  --  his coal-black stallion with the rolling white eyes in the scrapped script of JC3: Cathedral  --  was the only tamed horse that ever took a liking to him.  in return, shaman was the only tamed horse dulu ever liked.  he bought him as a colt off a man who was gonna put him down for his affliction.  bottle-fed him.  let him see through his eyes when he got big enough to mount.

when shaman saw through the creeper’s eyes he felt like he could do anything.  wasn’t some lost, scared, easily spooked, blind horse  --  no;  he was this big, mighty powerful thing that carried a man of the same stature on his back, not because dulu ever hurt him, not because he feared spurs in his sides     ( never once did they make contact deliberately ),     but because that horse knew he’d always be in the hands of a man who loved him:  the man who saved his life and gave him a chance to see a world he wouldn’t have seen otherwise.  

for 37 years, the lone rider was inseparable from his steed.  when death decided otherwise, the creeper blessed shaman’s bones, harvested his soul.

shaman runs forever, now, free, wild in dulu’s brainscape, never to go another day without seeing and tasting the brilliant yellow of the meadows dulu dreams for him  --  year after year after year.

he had a high carriage and a proud nose that was always held upright, despite his lack of vision in his rider’s absence.  he was also a very tall horse, almost as tall as the average draft  --  15 hands high at the shoulder  --  and his back was broad, his chest and legs sturdy, almost like he wasn’t Fully Arabian but something Saddlebred mixed distantly into his blood;  Shaman was closer in appearance to a Georgian Grande than he was to a fully-blown Arabian.  were it not for his head shape and attitude, you almost wouldn’t be able to tell what he was at all.

other than that, Shaman’s most distinctly Arabian qualities were his lean pelvic slope and his narrow hindquarters.  his butt wasn’t any wider than his shoulders, and at least 20% of his body mass was his fucking tail  +  mane.  lots of hair.

his only real defect was that he was blind and prone to epileptic fits.  he was perfect otherwise, possessing all of an Arabian’s greatest attributes:  stubborn to a fault but brilliantly intelligent, having shared a bond with The Creeper that was closer to human brotherhood than it was to that of an animal / its master.

as is also typical of the breed, Shaman was a mustang inside, in his heart.  The Creeper  --  equally wild  --  understood this.  he never tried to tame his handsome Arabian stallion.  Shaman chose to love and remain loyal to the man who cared for him, the man who saved his life, and The Creeper knew that horse well enough to know that he’d rescind his trust should he ever be mistreated.  Dulu never mistreated him.  Dulu always treated Shaman like family, never like a mount.