Mission Impossible

I flipped the switch.   I gave myself permission to horse shop.  I searched, I visited, I tried.  A 3 year old black Percheron who was greenbroke (What was I thinking? Helloooo, I wanted to JUMP!).  A beautifully built tri-coloured Appy (and I don't even go for Appies usually) who had learned to rear to dethrone his rider.  A conformational trainwreck of a TB with uneven heels, mile-long pasterns & a limp but the heart of a saint.

Frustrated.

A few months earlier, I had coincidentally started dating this guy (yeah, you know who you are!).  This guy who in about four days I knew would change my life forever.  And it turned out that this guy could make my life's only sure dream of horse ownership come true. He gave me a check & said, "Go find what makes you happy."  Hell, if you ever want to make a girl love you forever, that'll do it!

I revised my search with renewed hope of finding a horse that didn't limp & didn't have a death wish for humans.

Categories: history, horse shopping