Lolo
Well-Known Member
I came across this photo the other day while I was on the hunt for a video. It's me on my old boy, at Holkham beach. He was PTS August 2011. He didn't do total retirement- god knows, we tried.
I miss him so very much. I had the pleasure of owning him from when I was 13 to when I was 18, and he gave me so much confidence and so many amazing experiences.
He was a truly mad little horse. He was unbeatable in a jump off- I had to look at the next fence and he'd be off, turning on a sixpence and weaving through wings. He was a nightmare to try and do a dressage test on. He'd go beautifully, then get bored and take off or start doing his ministry of silly walks thing. It was a fairly regular occurrence to get straight 7s, then straight 3s. We couldn't canter out hacking, he was batty out hunting and you couldn't tell him anything.
You couldn't tie him up anywhere. He took it as a challenge. He could undo any knot (we tried them all!) and would then come and find us to let us know he'd been ever so clever. He could undo bra strap, unflick kickbolts and refused to eat out of a bucket. He'd pull hair and give the farrier a wedgie. But everyone loved him- he was so human in his way of behaving. He'd spent so much time mostly in the company of people he seemed to think he was one, if not better than!
He was, in short, a nightmare. But he was also the most astonishingly perfect horse I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He'd do anything to help you out, was as genuine as they came and took me from being scared to canter to jumping round 3' XC courses in under a year.
Every day, I miss him. And then I find photos like this lurking away somewhere and it breaks my heart because he's gone.
Tell me, why do we do this?!