Many moons ago I distinctly remember an elementary school tutor giving me a birthday card that had a unicorn on it. I think at this point I already had my 2′ tall stuffed white pony that I imagined to be a unicorn and had watched “The Last Unicorn” on VHS more times than I care to claim.
Point being, I have a great love, nourished over many years, for the fictional creatures (although I asked that tutor if she thought it were possible for unicorns to be real, to which she replied, “I suppose anything is possible.” I of course took that to mean “yes.”).
Europe seems to have an abundance of my dream pet. I see them in decorative building facades, in display windows and in museums. If I can find someone to volunteer for the unflattering role of horse-rear for a Halloween unicorn costume, I could live out the dream of my half-unicorn-half-human idol from the movie. After all, I think I have most of the lines memorized.
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