They do sweep us off our feet, don’t they? I happened to find out that my horse’s daughter is for sale… I look at the pictures of the daughter (born before I bought her mother; I don’t know the daughter) and want to cry; she is the image of her mother in body and expression. I don’t want more than one horse and can’t afford two anyway, but my girl [a Bask great-granddaughter, on both sides. Damn, that stallion got around!] is truly a dream horse, and I imagine her daughter would be much the same. Hopefully she will find a wonderful new owner.
I remember the look of horror and fear on the face of a rider at a previous barn one crisp Fall morning when Fanny, having espied the trailer parked in “we’re going somewhere” position, was galloping around her paddock with her Arab on. This is what she does when she knows we’re going on a trail ride somewhere off-property. It’s her way of saying, “Hurry up, mom! I want to go show a bunch of other horses how it’s done!” When this woman saw Fanny, snorting and with her tail flagged, the woman clutched her horse’s bridle with a death grip and stopped in her tracks. “That horse is —running!” she said, in a tone of incredible disgust and disbelief. Whatever.