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KVA
Energizer
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Morgan horse |
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21 years old
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1987 - June 6, 2008
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I was one of those little
girls whose second choice would have been having her own horse. My first
choice would have been being a horse. At age 60, I am finally resigned to
living out my life as a human. Now, my life has been diminished by losing
you.
You came into my life as my 29 year marriage was coming to an end. In an
effort to cheer me up, a friend, who knew of my childhood and adolescent
history of riding hunters and jumpers, invited me to go riding. The first
time I saw you, you took my breath away. You were so sleek, so handsome,
and carried your head so proudly. I couldn't take my eyes off you as your
'mom' Penny rode you. I was thrilled when, on subsequent rides, Penny let
me ride you while she rode one of her other horses. I jumped at the chance
to buy you the following year. Just think, my very own horse. After all those
childhood years of trying to win a racehorse by sending in a name and a box
top from Kentucky Club tobacco, I finally had my very own horse.
I learned so much from you. I thought I was going to teach you to jump. How
silly of me. It was much better wandering around the ranch land and mountain
trails of northern Arizona. Remember when we were working on finding that
old cowboy trail up the back side of Granite Mountain? We stopped for lunch
and you kept poking your nose at my cucumber sandwich? I gave you a slice
of cucumber. I knew you weren't going to like cucumber and you didn't. And
how about that time the mini horses came running up to the fence as we were
trotting by? The way you whirled around, shied, I was pretty sure I was going
to be looking at a mountain lion. If you felt embarrassed about overreacting
to the mini horses, you never let on. I do know though, that you felt kind
of sulky the time I chided you for asking for a carrot from the saddlebag
by banging the toe of my boot with your nose when we were only halfway up
the hill to the Indian ruins. When I told you that you knew very well that
we only did carrots at the top, you swung your head back around with a very
sullen look on your face. You always told me when someone or something was
ahead of us on the trail. I know it took me a while to learn to listen, but
I got there.
I was always so proud of you. On our second to the last ride, when we came
across the three ladies on foot inside the box gate with their horses, one
of the ladies offered to open and close the other gate. I told her we could
do it. You did like you always did, swinging your body around the end of
the gate and putting me right where I needed to be to latch the gate. "Now
that's a trail horse!" one of them said. "The best gate horse in the West.",
I told her. And you were. Absolutely the best. I remember riding home that
day. You were relaxed and walking along without prancing. It was clear and
sunny. I was singing out loud and making up a song about us....'Just Sparky
and me, so wild and free, just walking along and singing a song.' How I wish
I could have that day back again. I miss you so.
Love,
Sandy
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Sparky 
