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Innocently, I took my then 9 year old daughter and 6 year old son to one of the local fall fairs we have. What's more natural than the pony ride? Well, they enjoyed that, and they'd like to take riding lessons.... I think I can squeeze them into the budget. They're taking the lessons, and I'm just hanging around killing time. I might as well learn something about it, too, so let me take some lessons while they have theirs. That was three horses ago, in the early 1980s. Suddenly, the Stable owner was buying back her first pure Morgan she had named after her brother, Alan. Boy, did she have a deal, as long as I agreed he would only be stabled there, or sold back to her. A bay Morgan, standing at 14.2 hands (I think he stretched on his toes), he has one of the most people pleasing personalities I've seen in a horse, or better than most people. Two years later Winfield Alan became the most underpaid psychological therapist in the Western Hemisphere, as he helped me through my drawn-out divorce. (Horses are great listeners; he didn't repeat anything I told him [or the other horses were too polite to stare or laugh.] He is now taking up typing though, as I've cut back his carrots and apples.) Naturally, my kids needed a pony, so they could go riding with me. Hmmm. If they know I bought them one, my soon to be ex-wife's eyes would light up. Best to keep it quiet, let them think I'm renting him. (This seems to be a common ploy between spouses, and adult children to their parents, I've discovered.) A couple of years later, they were forbidden to go the Stables with me, so Hershey became a camp horse in New York State. Time increases both our ages and our weight, so after 8 years of riding, then 5 years of not riding, my mind and emotional well-being suggested I start again. A little too large for Alan (my first love; we've been together longer [and happier] than my marriage), the Stable had gotten in a beautiful palomino Quarter-horse from Texas, One-eyed Willie. In checking with some Quarter-horse friends they told me his blood-lines were good. He has King Ranch lines, Hollywood Gold was his grandfather, and even One-eyed Jack appeared along the way. At 16 hands (64 inches to the withers), he stands tall and responds to my commands instantly. We're straight trail riders; Willie's idea of jumps in the ring is to step over them, whether you're at a walk, jog, or lope. We have a lot in common. |
