Horses have always been a huge part of my life, and they still are but in a different fashion. I grew up horse crazy and my parents were wonderful enough to indulge in my obsession. It helped that they already had horses and could understand my plight.
I had horse everything, I doodled horse heads on my homework and wrote essays (paragraphs) about horses. Friends wanted to hang out with me and go ride our family horses. I was happy to indulge, because I would use any excuse hang out with the horses.
My friends rarely saw the squashed toes and smashed hands. (A story for another time, it has been 25 years and I can still feel the hoof on my hand.) I love my horses!
When I was around four I saw people jumping their horses over brightly colored sticks, immediately I turned to my mom and dad and said, "I want to do that." If horses weren't expensive enough I had to go and fall in love with one of the most expensive riding disciplines (disputed) of them all; Hunter/Jumpers. My parents got me into riding lessons where I was soon jumping over those brightly colored sticks, but at a much less lower height to my parents relief and my impatience. Soon I was showing and enjoying every minute of my new found love.
There comes a time when you outgrow the lovely pony you have been riding, my black mustang Midge, and need to a taller horse. After extensive looking we found Pi, a chestnut Arabian gelding with attitude. Oh how I loved him. He was a fairy tale. My very own Black Stallion, except he was a Chestnut Gelding...minor details. I rode him and I was in heaven and then he...dumped me.
The snot, was a trickster. Too smart for his own good. He thought it was funny to see me flip through the air! I am not kidding,. I saw him shaking his head and whinnying one time after I ungracefully, involuntarily dismounted! Though there were many times I decided he was not the horse for me, I hung in there. Mostly because my parents told me that Pi and I needed to figure each other out and that I was not getting a new horse.
After hours and hours of riding and ground work and playing we finally became best friends. He moved to California with the family, where we changed riding careers from Hunter/Jumpers to the more exciting and daredevil eventing. Pi and I loved to run fast and jump high, which the cross country phase of eventing satisfied.
Our move to California gave us more opportunities not only for showing but to also try fox hunting, which we both found we totally enjoyed. Pi was a frequent traveller and took everything in stride, but when we pulled up the the farm that we went fox hunting from he became my Chestnut Gelding (i.e. Black Stallion). He would hear the wild peacocks in the hills and his characteristic Arabian head would go up and the tail would wave in the wind. He would go from 14.2 hands to 17 hands in an instant. I never felt so proud as to watch my beautiful boy. (Hands are how horses' height is measured, 1 hand = 4 inches.)
We played, trail rode, showed, attempted barrel racing, rode in parades and kept taking lessons mostly learning more about dressage and how it wasn't as bad as we thought. Pi was good with other kids, letting them dress him up in funny outfits. He never turns down a treat. He even took a bite of my ham and cheese sandwich on summer afternoon during Pony Club camp. He actually liked it and came back for more. Together we understand each other.
Each of us has grown up and Pi is now retired in a wonderful pasture with friends. I run out to see him and hope to bring him home one day. For now he is happy and I am happy for him. Though I miss him terribly. He is my best friend and confidant.
I love you my Chestnut Gelding!
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