On my anniversary, I am filled with melancholy.
I have not owned horses since my divorce but share the lovely animals with friends who tolerate my love of horses. I've owned horses, since starting out with my first pony, Sam, at about four or five years old. I bugged Dad to death to buy him. We found a sale of ponies that were brought down to our local Fairgrounds in trailers, trucks, and even in the trunks of cars. There were hundreds of ponies in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Sam was one of the last that I saw. Coal black, so black he was blue, halter-broke, but not much more, it was love at first sight. We learned together and became the best of pals, until the day I had to sell him because of a move to Florida. I was told that he yelled for me all the way to his new home and frequently tried to escape.
I met him years later in a dry lot near where we were living and made friends with him again. I brought him daily treats and helped the lady who owned him get him a good home where he lived out his days in happy times. I miss having horses of my own and relish the day when I can claim one to have at home, where I can go curry and love on them every day. Until then, I hope my friends will tolerate me when I drop by unannounced to play with the babies. I have always done that and probably always will. So, I may not be enjoying my anniversary because he forgot, but I am thinking about going and playing with the neighbors' horses after bit. There are a couple in particular who love the treats I bring, and the company is the best around. I am thankful for all of the horses I have met in my 52 years, from Sam to Tonka and all those in between. From the well-broke to the not-so-broke, they left an imprint on my heart that will be there until my dying day and beyond. They are magnificent and powerful, yet when a small child is but on their backs, they become the meekest of creatures, as my horse Cissy did when I put my kids on her back and told her "Easy." She would take the smallest of steps and if one of the kids started to slide, she would freeze and lean as to help the little one stay on her back. I've had Welsh ponies, Appaloosas, Morgans, Quarter Horses, and many mixed breeds, and I like them all.
No, I love them all. Each and every one of them, even the draft horse that broke my foot when she stepped on me.