Of Horse

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The Young Horse
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The Young Horse

I had always wanted a horse. Ever since I was a little girl, it was my dream to own one. I remember always asking my dad if he would buy me one. His answer was always "maybe someday". Then, that "someday" finally came. 

At the age of 13, I got my first horse. My dad took me up to a nearby horse farm. There, we perused the horses. Old ones. Young ones. And then I saw her. A small unassuming Appaloosa filly. 

She didn't really look like an Appaloosa, for she had no spots. But something about her drew me to her. I walked over to the paddock where she was kept and she came right up to me. She then began to nibble on the zipper of my jacket. I thought "this one". I was in love. That was it. 

We called my uncle to help haul her home, for we did not have a horse trailer of our own. We got her and took her to my grandpa's farm where my family had kept to their horses.

I was the happiest girl alive. I couldn't wait to get back out to see her the next day. I would brush her daily and even braid her mane and tail. My aunt was surprised to see me doing that, but I trusted that little filly. 

There was one day my dad had her out and she utterly refused to go back into her stall. No matter how hard my dad tugged on her halter, she wouldn't budge. 

I walked over and without a word took the halter from my dad and walked her straight into her stall. She didn't refuse at all. I could always get her to do things that no one else could. This was my first horse. The best one I ever had.

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