Today is bittersweet. I signed the papers to sell the last horse I bred. I know I’ll never breed another one, although Zoe is perfectly capable of producing a foal. The sweet part is that Foxy, granddaughter of a champion thoroughbred and a champion dressage horse, went to a girl who has adored her for years, but couldn’t afford her. I know she’ll have a wonderful home with someone who loves and cares about her.
I originally bred her to become my dressage horse. Wrong! She has superb gaits, but from the beginning she has wanted to run and jump—the higher the better—over jumps that are as trappy as possible. Event horses must be brave and scopy. Foxy started looking for things to jump when she could barely trot after her dam in the pasture.
She was always too much horse for me. At my age, I do not need a difficult, powerful, opionated mare who never suffered fools gladly. She expects her riders to do their jobs and help her do hers. She’s a bit over 16.2 hands tall. (Big) Started off steel gray like her sire and grew lighter through the years—standard for gray horses. She has beautiful ground manners and is a real sweetheart to work around. I love her and always will. If I think about it hard I’ll probably burst into tears because the likelihood of my seeing her again is slim. Silly of me to want to hug her one more time, to feed her one more carrot, to watch her race around the pasture with white mane and tail flying. Silly, also, to want to have ridden her once. I never have—that crazy I’m not. I have very long, very strong legs from riding dressage. If I had wrapped them around Foxy, the chances are she would have snorted and come off the ground. I can’t ride bucking horses any longer.
I think it was Jonathan Swift (Gulliver’s author) who said that he liked horses better than he liked most people. I’m not sure about the ‘better’ part, but I would agree to ‘as much as.’ That’s why so many of my books deal with horses. I think it was Winston Churchill who said that there is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man. Leaving out the male chauvinism, I agree with him.
I will miss Foxy, but I’m glad she’s gone to people who love her as I love her.
Now I think I’ll go out to the barn and hug Zoe, my driving mare and cry a little.