The Perfect Horse for Me by Jonathan Beck

The Perfect Horse for Me by Jonathan Beck

Hard lessons can lead to success. Everyone experiences heartbreak in some form or another, whether it is the loss of a friend or family member or a beloved pet. When I was sixteen years old I experienced heartbreak in a big way. The death of my roping horse Snuffy was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced; yet it had a meaningful impact on my life.

By: Lindsey Patton

Moody Blue wasn’t my horse. I didn’t own the 24-year-old gelding. I don’t even remember my grandfather buying him in Jordan, Minnesota in 1977. But I remember when he taught me how to ride. I remember when I was with him in the last minutes of his life.

Moody Blue was a solid black Appaloosa, born on April 10th of 1977. He was purchased by my grandfather as a 5-month-old colt whose dam had died when he was only 3-months-old. My mother was the one who taught him all he knew. Moody was the one who taught me all I know.And if horses could truly be movie stars, Moody would have been one. He had a charisma and aura around him that made people automatically fall in love with him.

By: Nancy Swart Michel

One late afternoon in 1977, a few weeks after I entered my freshman year of high school, I glanced outside the livingroom window on my way to the kitchen. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. My Appaloosa mare, Nee Noo, stood in the corral twisting her neck around to bite at her side.

After making a few swipes, her head sank halfway to the ground. I knew something was terribly wrong.

By:Rene Miller

Let me take you back to my childhood, to my life without a horse, to my life with only a dream….

For as far back as I can remember, and from stories that my mother has told, I have been a horse lover. As a toddler I would ride on the rocking (wonder) horse for so long that I would fall asleep. Just to give you an idea of just how horse crazy—games played with or without friends were centered around horses, at the toy store I could be found in the model horse section looking for the next member to my collection, my favorite shows on T.V. were the westerns with horses in them, favorite movies and books were of horses, if I saw a horse anywhere, I would have to run up and pet it.

By: Shell Willson

I have never in my life believed in love at first sight, but was proven wrong the first day I laid eyes on Johnny. He was a massive Quarter Horse gelding at 9 years of age. Sixteen hands , one inch and 1300 pounds of Chestnut brawn with a huge white blaze down his massive face. He had belonged to my husband at that time. I knew he had this horse, and since we had a place in the country I begged him to have him brought over to out new home. Upon Johnny’s arrival I was so excited that finally, after 31 years of waiting I had my very own horse.

I immediately starting educating myself in the ways of horses and went to the library to find out everything I could about proper nutrients, shelter and tack. Little did I know at that time that Johnny would become the teacher. I joined a local horse club the “Callaway County Ruff Riders”. It was music to my ears to hear about other peoples horses and I was a human sponge thirsty for all and any information about horses.

As a young child of divorced parents I often found an escape from the chaos of the adult world I was subjected to by visiting the stables. I didn’t have money for the riding lessons I so desperately wanted so I worked at the stable every Saturday in order to earn a free lesson. I would groom all the lesson horses, get them ready for the next lesson, and then walk them afterwards.

By: Kristine Smilsky

The Oxford Canadian Dictionary defines a challenge as: “ a demanding or difficult task.” Through out our lives, we face many challenges, big or small, whether we are young or old. One of my first challenges came when I was twelve years old. I purchased, with my own money, a horse to call my own. Now as an eighteen year old, I face yet another challenge, the possible sale of my horse.

An animal which I have bonded with, an animal that I have dedicated the past seven years of my life too. During these past seven years, I have committed myself to one of the most challenging tasks of all: proving others wrong. I took a trail horse that no one wanted and turnedhim into a show horse that turned heads.
I began riding at the age of five, by attending local riding camps during the summer. At age eight, my parents bought me my first pony and I began taking regular riding lessons and practicing for local competitions.

By: Sarah Elizabeth Hupp

My Mom, Plus, my American Saddlebred, and I went to Raleigh, North Carolilna for the NC State 4-H Horse Show in July of 2002.  We were settled in and I had schooled Plus.  We took him to get a bath.  When we were through Mom decided to comb his mane while I was cleaning my tack.  There were some Jack Russells in the stall behind us and Plus happens to be a scary horse. 

By: Melinda Maloney

My lip trembled and I started to sweat on that fateful morning. I heard the nine horrible words, but their meaning was only registering in a very distant part of my brain.
“Melinda, Trigger’s going to have to be put down,” my trainer said with a sad look in her eyes. Somewhere, something in my mind clicked. The most accurate description of the pain was that for the rest of the day I felt like someone had ripped out my heart and crushed it beneath their feet. Worst of all, I didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone about my feelings.

By: Tamara Minadeo

I still remember the first time I met Maya and Geno. It was the first weeks before the fall quarter began at my Los Angeles area college and I was at the school barn getting my horse, Nutmeg, situated in her new stall.

A silver truck and horse trailer pulled up to my barn and out popped a tall girl with shiny dark brown hair and a spray of freckles on her cheeks. Being in a friendly, welcoming mood I jaunted over to her and introduced myself. Before I could get her name she quickly spouted, “Is there a turn-out I can put my horse in? He has just been in a trailer for 12 hours and really needs to get out.”

By: Sue Moss

When our youngest daughter was 9 years old, her Dad bought her a 5 year- old Quarter Horse gelding. Miranda named her horse Buddy. And that’s what he quickly became to her. She would spend hours with him, brushing, trimming, leading, playing with, and simply talking to him. She enjoyed riding him as well, of course, but for Miranda the greater joy was in sharing her thoughts with him. He displayed the greatest “horsonality”, always listening, never criticizing.

Miranda enjoyed Buddy for many years, competing in gymkhana events and joining a musical riding club, as well as going on many pleasure rides.

By: Pacia Dixon

Sky Rocket was an over-sized Shetland Pony-cross, stout as a tugboat, and just as scrappy. He was an animated bright white, pint-sized Roman warhorse, quite capable of conquering a city, with his flared nostrils, open mouth and great round arched crest, punctuated by a three-inch long roached mane. But this little mount was not used for vanquishing enemies. He was owned by a 1960’s cowgirl baby boomer, my neighbor, and he specialized in stealing young girls’ hearts. I could feel my own heart flying out of its ribcage whenever I heard them come galloping up our driveway for impromptu visits.

By: Elizabeth Clark

I awoke and looked over to my left where my sisters bed was. It was empty and I inwardly scolded myself. Usually I awoke the exact same moment I heard my sister get up, even if I was in a dead sleep. I quickly got out of bed wondering how long my sister had been up and with the horses. As soon as I was dressed, I rushed outside. The morning was clear and smelled fresh of spring. I heard the birds singing their sweet spring song but I heard a hint of something else in their song.

By: Karen Bragg

We met him on a cold, crisp December day. His owner was a college student desperate to find him a home before Christmas Vacation ended, and my four-year-old daughter was equally desperate to have her own pony. When we saw him for the first time he was standing in a field looking at us. At least, from the glow in his eyes through his thick coat, you could surmise he was looking at us. Dad got on him bareback with just a halter and lead rope and cantered across the pasture without getting bucked off, so we figured he’d be okay for Katie. That is how Rebel came into our lives.

By: Jenny

As a little kid, I always imagined myself owning a light silvery grey horse with a black mane and tail and black points. We would win all sorts of ribbons and awards, eyes would turn to look at us, the girl on her handsome grey steed. I never forgot that fantasy, keeping it in my heart.