|this horse was obsessed with licking things.|
|it was a sickness.|
I still compare every horse to him even though no horse will ever live up to his standards.
He was a midget, and my legs hung past his belly even when my stirrups were shortened for jumping, but he was beautifully put together, and he never felt small underneath me. While his flat work was never going to wow anyone, he was absolutely spring-loaded when it came to jumping. He was the first horse I ever jumped 4' on, and even at that height, he didn't seem to be putting any effort in. While he had fun running out and refusing, and he never listened to me about an approach, he brought his knees to his eyeballs every time and you could tell there was nothing else he'd rather be doing.
|ain't no thing.|
He was opinionated. He liked to pick fights just to see what he could get away with. He rarely picked up his right lead. His favorite treats were watermelon Sour Patch Kids. He liked to suck the cheese off Doritos and spit the chip back out when he was done.
|red knew all about posing.|
He didn't get along with very many horses, but he loved to hang out with people. He used to lay down if tacked up on cement, and I can't count how many pairs of crossties or halters he broke. He loved to jump out of paddocks, especially if he knew you were watching.
|he loved playing tag.|
(and more than once jumped over that 6' paddock fence you see in the background
because someone got brought in for dinner before him. the original drama queen.)
He trail rode. He did barrels. He loved going swimming. He let us rope off of him and stood like a statue while I untangled him after invariably roping his leg. He did hunters, jumpers, and eventing. He packed people around double. He threw me more times than every other horse I've ridden combined. He loved to take off with me.
|tiny pony ears ignoring the nonsense going on behind him.|
In the end, how could another horse ever live up to him? The trainer that broke him out and raced him as a two and three year old vividly recalled him three years after he left his barn: "Oh, Mr Personality? How could any of us forget him?"
There will never be another pair of ears I'd rather look through.
|spooking at mud. because why not?|