Stevie is my middle daughter’s horse. She’s a grey mare, with a black mane and tail. She’s tall and thin, like her owner. When I see them together I always think of the original Disney 101 Dalmations movie when at the beginning, during the credits, they show that hilarious scene of dogs and their look-alike owners walking by Pongo’s house. Even Stevie’s personality is a bit like my daughter’s. Sometimes it’s hard for her to stay focused and she’s easily distracted, but she’s sweet and willing. My daughter dotes on her and loves nothing better than to spend hours at the barn fussing with her, even if she’s not riding. When Stevie is in the cross ties waiting to be groomed, if my daughter isn’t within reach, she paws her hoof until someone yells, “Stevie! Knock it off!” She wants attention and she begs for treats. Her owner does too. In the beginning they struggled, both learning the more technical aspects of the sport, as
well as managing the inexperience of the horse with the scattered emotions of the rider’s adolescence. It’s a complicated sport because horses feel all the emotions of the rider, and don’t necessarily filter what is important to the task at hand. But Stevie and my daughter have worked through many issues and now when they are able to focus, are quite beautiful to watch.
I’m glad they bonded quickly because it wasn’t easy to say goodbye to her old horse, Oscar. He was older and needed to start jumping lower as my daughter was moving up and jumping higher fences. We had him for two and a half years and he was her rock. He took care of her in the ring and they had a lot of success. But he was also her friend outside of the ring, and she loved him like a first boyfriend. Oscar had the personality of our lab, quiet and gentle. He acted more like a dog than a horse. Horses are herd animals, but Oscar hated other horses. He used to pin his ears and bare his teeth if another horse went near my daughter in his line of sight, like a jealous husband. But with people he was affectionate and tolerant. My daughter cried for weeks leading up to our selling him, heartbroken, though understanding she needed to move on if she was going to progress in the sport. I was choked up myself because I had trusted this big ox to look after my daughter, and he never let me down.
Before Oscar, my daughter had a grey pony called Love. But Love wasn’t particularly affectionate, despite her name. She was petite and beautiful, a good jumper, but she had attitude, as many ponies do. Though they are small and look cute, they aren’t as tolerant of kids torturing them as horses are. Saying goodbye to Love wasn’t the traumatic experience that saying goodbye to Oscar was. At around the same time we had another pony that belonged to my younger daughter, a tiny chestnut with a bushy mane and tail that she called Sal. My husband referred to her as the “chuck wagon pony” because she looked like she belonged in a movie pulling a cart. Her forelock was so long you couldn’t see her eyes. It was hard not to smile watching her because she was so small her legs had to move furiously as she trotted or cantered around the ring. She took her job very seriously. When my younger daughter outgrew her she moved to a bigger pony called Amber, a Palomino who had belonged to another family at our barn. Amber was quiet and gentle, a good match for this daughter who is more cautious than her older sister. Before we sold Oscar, we thought he might make a good match for this younger daughter when she outgrew Amber, and be able to keep him in the family, but she decided she wasn’t passionate enough to keep riding. “It’s too much work for something I don’t love,” she said to me. Well, I couldn’t argue with that. She was eleven at the time. My husband didn’t even try to hide his relief at the financial impact of her decision, nor her sister, as she was glad to be well shot of her at the barn. But I was a little sad. It’s shocking, but I guess horses aren’t for everyone.
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