The Storm

I figured I'd give everyone a little update on "Sandy", since most of you, dear readers, are on the West Coast and probably watching the news with concern.  The winds have picked up and they are coming from the North, which is unusual.  The sky is a moody dark grey and it should start raining anytime now.  We still have power, but the electric company has been broadcasting ominous press releases about likely widespread outages. 

Nox is tucked safely away in his stall, munching on hay with his 21 barn mates.  The stable owners are home keeping watch, and they have a back-up generator ready to go if they lose power.  They've weathered many ice storms and blizzards over the years and they assured me not to worry about Nox.  

Moose Dog and I are warm and dry in the house.  We have a fresh pan of double fudge brownies, gallons of water downstairs, and a shelf full of books to read by candlelight if the lights go out.  (We also have a generator if needed.)

Best Husband Ever is doing his superhero work and may be out all night.  I'm so proud of him.

Love to you all!

Update: It's Tuesday morning and besides a few hours of power outage last night and finding our welcome mat in the neighbor's yard this morning, we made it through the storm.  Our thoughts and prayers go to those who are dealing with much worse.

Klutz

Nox seems to be always banging his head into something.  As soon as one scrape above his eye heals, he gets another.  They're never deep or bloody - just small surface scrapes that take all the hair off.  Sometimes he scrapes his head on his feed bucket, after reaching his nose underneath it to pick up every last little bit of grain.  Sometimes he bangs his head on the fence rails, again, reaching through to graze or nibble.  Sometimes I have no idea how he does it.  Nox's stall is safe and large, with nothing protruding out to cut him.  I think he might just be klutzy, and frankly, I have no idea how, in his racing days, he managed to burst from the starting gates without tripping or banging his head. 

I have a big tube of ointment and every night Nox quietly lowers his head so I can care for the scrapes.  He really is a sweet, lovable horse and he usually tries very hard to be good.  I'm so glad that he's mine - goofy and clumsy as he is.

Nox's newest scrape, above the eye.

       

A warm day

Today was a warm, sunny, 70 degree day - a welcome relief from the 50 degree weather we've had lately.  I was restless at work - impatiently tapping at my keyboard and glancing out the window across the hall every few minutes.  I couldn't wait to get to the barn.  I was hoping the flooded outdoor ring would be dry enough to let Nox run around and enjoy the nice weather, too.  The past few weeks have been so rainy and dreary.

I finally pulled in to the stable parking lot and happily left my barn coat in the car.  My happiness was tempered as I came around the corner and saw my poor horse.  Nox was standing in the middle of his stall, sweating and looking miserable. 

Nox has grown a magnificent winter coat.  His summer coat was so sleek and thin that I worried he'd be cold in this North Country winter weather.  It turns out that I had nothing to worry about.  He is as fluffy and fuzzy as I could have hoped, and I love burying my face in his plush, soft, velvety neck.

That thick coat was torture today.  I turned Nox out in the indoor ring, since the outdoor ring was still flooded and I wanted to keep him out of the sun.  He ran around as usual, bucking, kicking, and rearing, and then rolled in his favorite spot.  All that exertion made him sweat even more.  I went into the ring to play our ground manner games and by the time we finished, he was a hairy, sweaty, dirty mess.

I walked him around and let him graze outside in the breeze.  I wanted to spray him off with the hose, but it's going to be in the 50's tonight and I was afraid that his thick coat wouldn't dry completely and he'd be chilled.  Instead, once he was cool and the sweat had dried, I curried and brushed him until every sweat mark was gone.  He really enjoyed the curry comb and I think all that hair must get itchy when he sweats.

Tomorrow will be another 70 degree day, but after that we drop back into the low 50's again.  For Nox's sake, and the other fuzzy horses in the barn, I'm looking forward to the cooler weather.               

Birthday wishes

I adopted Nox in June, and so he isn't actually my birthday present.  But honestly, every day that I walk inside the barn and see this beautiful horse looking expectantly for me and nickering softly when he sees me, I feel like it's my birthday and Christmas and Easter and Valentine's Day.

Tonight, Best Husband Ever told me to make a wish before blowing out my candles, and I said, "But all of my wishes have come true."  This is the first year since I was five years old that I did not have to wish for a horse on my birthday. 

Thankfully, it turns out that telling people what you wished for doesn't doom that wish from coming true - I told everyone who would listen about my horse wishes! 

So, I can safely tell you what I wished for this year: 

World Peace.

It took about thirty years to get the horse.  Hopefully, the peace will come sooner.



Best...

Present...

Ever!

Because I'm the human and you're the horse, that's why!

I'm at the barn six evenings a week - the seventh barn-free day is dubbed "husband day", since it always coincides with one of Best Husband Ever's days off.  When I tell people this, they look at me oddly - no doubt thinking this isn't a fair allocation of time and imagining my hungry husband abandoned and neglected at home.  Happily, this isn't the case - he works in the evenings and is very supportive of my horse addiction.

The day after my day off from the barn is almost always a challenge.  Nox is a very dominant horse and he likes to think he's in charge.  I often have to remind him otherwise.  It's worse when I've been gone for more than 24 hours - he takes my absence as a sign that I have abdicated my throne and he is eager to take my place. 

Today was one of those days.  I turned Nox out in the indoor ring and he seemed fine, so I tacked him up to ride.  As soon as I settled in the saddle, he was full of "piss and vinegar", as Erin would say.  Every corner of the ring had something to spook at and he tossed his head, danced around, and just generally misbehaved.  This was my fault, of course.  I should have seen past his calm facade and done some ground work before hopping on to ride. 

I've learned from experience that there is little use trying to fight with him to be good, especially if he is also acting spooky, but I can't dismount until he has done something well enough to end on a "good note".  Several laps around the ring of dancing, spooking, and tossing, and he finally walked a lap nicely - but I could sense the vinegar bubbling inside him and I knew I couldn't get another calm moment from him under saddle. 

I slipped off his back, untacked him right there in the ring, and then we played the ground manner "games" that I use to assert my leadership.  Nox responds well to these games and after a few minutes of tantrums and resistance, he assumed his subordinate place in our herd of two.  I led him around the ring on the lead rope for another few minutes and he followed sweetly and respectfully.  I put him back in his stall, groomed him and petted him, and called it a night. 

Tomorrow will be a better riding day.  Next week, we'll do it all again.    

Nox, giving me the "you're not the boss of me" look.

          

    

The day his imagination got away from him...

It came as no surprise that Nox liked to graze on the fresh grass outside, but I was amused by his enthusiasm for it.  The first few times I turned him out in the outdoor ring, he just stood and looked around at the grass growing along the edges and in the corners, like he was waiting for my permission.  I shooed him off and he attacked the grass with gusto, grazing on it for as long as I'd let him.

One day, Nox was stretching his nose through the fence boards out to the very tall grass growing in the nearby ditch.  I watched him tear at the grass and weeds, greedily taking big mouthfuls at a time.  He bit off a very large clump and pulled his head back through the fence to chew it.  Two or three very long blades of grass waved behind his head as he chewed, and he paused, turning his head suspiciously.  The grass waved and bobbed behind him as he moved and he started nervously walking away, still chewing.  The grass followed him, brushing his neck and popping up behind him.  Suddenly, Nox broke out running and bucking, frightened by the scary things that he thought were trying to attack him!   

He looked around for me, the grass still in his mouth and the long pieces flying.  I walked out into the ring and he stopped, eyes wide and nostrils flared.  I grabbed the long pieces and pulled them out of his mouth, admonishing him for being silly and greedy.  Nox stood there and seemed to chew the rest of his mouthful thoughtfully, and then calmly went back to grazing in the corner, the crisis over.

Have I mentioned how much I love him?              

Nox grazing in the sunshine.

 

Pole Walkin'

Right from the start, during that first week of "experiments", I discovered that Nox was afraid of jump poles.  He was afraid of the poles even when they were lying on the ground - wouldn't go near them.  I found this more than a little ironic, since one of the reasons I picked Nox was because his long legs and athletic ability would make him a very good jumper.  I was hoping to someday soar over those same poles when they were suspended in the air!

 

A few people gave me their opinions and advice: lead him to the pole on the ground and make him walk over it, smack his butt, don't let him get away with avoiding the pole, keep fighting until he does it.  I smiled, listened, and nodded my head.  In the past, the horse would have been theirs and I would have to do it their way.  In the past, I would have silently thought about all the methods that I would like to try, if the horse was mine.

 

Well, now the horse IS mine.

 

Since I was in no hurry to get Nox over the poles (we are a long way away from doing any jumping), I tried a more laid back approach.  I started by turning Nox out in the indoor ring with several poles lying on the ground randomly around the ring.   He spent the first week avoiding them, running around like he was drunk, weaving erratically, and snorting loudly at the strange white things littered around his play area.  I'd go in and move the poles, but I never asked him to go near them.

 

After a while, I placed the poles in the area he liked to hang out most - in front of the open window that looked out toward the pastures.  Nox was frustrated, because to hang his head out the window he had to get close to the poles.  I watched with amusement as he stretched his neck as far as he could to glimpse green grass and blue sky, without moving his feet near the dreaded pole.   He'd inch forward, slowly, worried that the pole might suddenly jump up and bite him.

 

One day, I thought we had a break-through.  Nox walked over to the pole in front of the window and put his nose down to smell it.   He licked the pole, and then chewed on it a little.  He raised his head and moved one front leg forward, as if he was going to walk over the pole.  I silently cheered him on, thinking "this is it!".  He took that hoof and tentatively kicked the pole once.  He kicked it again.   When he realized the pole was not going to bite him, and in fact, would move when he kicked it, he became very brave.  He spent the next few minutes kicking the pole out of his way until it was far enough that he could triumphantly hang his head out the window.  All I could do was laugh.

 

Over the next few weeks, I continued to put poles all over the ring, even while riding him, and thought perhaps Nox wouldn't be a great jumper after all.  Then one day, all on his own, he walked over a pole - like it was no big deal.  I celebrated and cheered and he watched me jump up and down like he thought I was crazy.

 

My celebration was short-lived, however, because he refused to walk over the poles when I led him or rode him.  Since his fear of the pole was gone, I knew he was refusing out of stubbornness.  A different problem needs a different solution, so I gave him two choices.  He could walk over the pole with me and we would move on and do something else more fun.  He could refuse, and we would walk in small circles around the pole, nine or ten fast laps, before trying again.  I had to repeat this many times until he finally realized that it would be far less work and hassle if he just walked over the pole.  In no time, Best Husband Ever and I could lead Nox over poles like he'd been doing it for years.  A few days later, Nox walked over the poles while I was riding him.  He was calm and confident.  I never had to force him or make it a fight where one of us had to lose.

 

Admittedly, this method took months to accomplish what a few hours of fighting could have done, but I'm in no hurry.  I feel like we solved this problem together; building trust and learning to communicate along the way.

 

We've arrived at the same happy place - on the other side of the pole.

 

Success!

Good advice

The days are cooler and shorter.  I have to turn the lights on when I arrive at the barn, when only a few weeks ago I could graze Nox in the sunshine until 8:00 pm.  The indoor riding ring also has lights - eight florescent drop-down lights that provide wonderful year-round riding opportunities, but cast odd shadows all over the ring.  Nox does not like these shadows.  As we ride around the ring his own shadow seems to ping around the walls and swoop under his feet, making him nervous.

Occasionally, Nox will suddenly jump several feet to the right or left as he spooks at his shadow.  So far, I've managed to remain firmly on his back, but each time he jumps, I silently thank my first trainer, Erin.

Erin was from Ireland and I idolized her.  She was small in stature but had a huge personality and a very generous spirit.  She was an excellent trainer who held her students to the highest standards of classical horsemanship.  We were expected to be early for lessons to groom and tack up, and stay late to brush every last sweat mark from our horse's body.  She told me, "If you don't have to time to care for your horse properly, you don't have time to ride."   

After about six months of lessons I was jumping low cross rails and feeling pretty proud of myself.  Erin smiled at me and said I was finally ready.  "Ooooh, for what?", I asked excitedly, envisioning Grand Prix show rings with 5 foot jumps.  "Ready to learn how to really sit on a horse", she said as she took the stirrups off the saddle.  I spent the next few weeks relearning everything - walk, trot, canter, circles, serpentines, and jumping - without stirrups.  My balance and seat improved dramatically.  She taught me how to move with a horse.

As Erin took the stirrups off that first day, I asked her how I was supposed to stay in the saddle.

She replied, in her Irish brogue, "Keep one leg on each side of your horse and your arse in the middle."

Often, it's the simplest advice that sticks with you. 

Nox - calm and looking gorgeous.

      

The Circle Game

People often have a favorite horse color - some like bright chestnuts, palominos, paints or dapple grays.  I like dark horses.  When I was 12 years old and taking riding lessons at Ride America, I met my "ideal" horse.  He was a dark bay Thoroughbred gelding with a white star on his forehead.  He was big and muscular with long, long legs - aptly named Spider.  He was gorgeous.

Spider's owner was kind enough to tolerate my gawking and wistful sighs every time she brought him out to ride.  I distinctly remember admiring how his beautiful, dark brown coat gleamed under the fluffy white saddle pad.  I thought to myself: some day I'm going to have a horse just like that.

This past summer, my boarding stable sponsored a week long horse camp.  The barn was full of little horse-loving girls learning all about horsemanship.  I'd turn Nox out in the ring and a few of those girls would materialize next to me, leaning against the wood rails to watch Nox run around. 

I recognized their dreamy stares and sighs.

Funny how things come full circle.

"And the seasons they go round and round,
 And the painted ponies go up and down..." 

(thanks, Mom, for playing the guitar and singing Joni Mitchell)

     


My dream come true.

How I know Nox doesn't like to be tied...

The first few weeks I had Nox, I was conducting all sorts of experiments to see what he knew how to do and what he was uncomfortable with.  One day, I wanted to know how well Nox tolerated being tied to something.  I led him into the indoor ring that has metal fencing along one end.  I figured I could tie his lead rope to the fence inside the ring and if we had a problem, he would still be safely contained. 

I loosely tied Nox to the top rail of the metal fence using a quick-release knot.  I stood at his head for a few minutes and he was fine.  I moved a few steps back, walked around to his other side, and patted his back.  He seemed bored.  Great, I thought, no problem.  I bent to pick up a brush to groom him and he suddenly jumped back and strained against the lead rope with all of his weight, his eyes bulging and begging for my help.

I rushed forward and released the knot.

This is what the previously straight fence looked like:

What happens when a 1200 + lb horse pulls on a metal fence.

We offered to pay for a new section of fence, but the kind stable owners were only glad that no one was hurt.   They suggested that Nox may need some retraining on being tied.

We're working on it. 

The day he got away.

It was mid-June and Nox had been mine for two glorious weeks.  He was getting used to the new sights, smells, and barn routine and I was getting used to his personality and quirks.  That day, Nox rolled in a mud puddle in the outdoor riding ring. 

I was using the outdoor ring as a turn out because it has board fencing, and all the other pastures at the stable have electric wire/tape fencing.  I had no idea if Nox had any experience with electric fencing, so I was going to play it safe for the first few weeks and just turn him out in the outdoor and indoor rings.

Nox was a mud ball - covered in it from nose to tail and he was thrilled about it.  I was less excited, but this gave me an opportunity to give him a bath and see how he reacted to water.  Race horses are often sprayed down with a hose, so I figured he'd be fine, but you never really know what a new-to-you horse will do in any situation until you're in it.

He loved the bath.  I was holding him on the lead rope while bathing him because he didn't like being tied (that is another story) but he was standing still and enjoying the cool water and shampoo scrub.  I was reaching as far as I could to shampoo his tail while keeping my grip on the lead rope when three things happened almost at once. 

1. Nox lowered his head to graze and stepped on the lead rope - right under his chin.

2. A very large, noisy, white truck rumbled down the normally quiet street.

3. Nox tried to lift his head to look at the truck, realized his head was pinned down, and he panicked. 

It was all I could do to dodge the blur of flying hooves and soapy swishing tail, and the wet lead rope was ripped from my hands.  Nox bolted around the corner of the barn towards the pastures and disappeared from sight.

I was completely alone.  No one else was at the barn and the stable owners weren't home.

I ran around the barn just in time to see Nox step up to the electric fence to meet the two geldings that live in one of the large pastures, Blue and Dahoney.  Nox leaned his chest into the fence and was zapped.  He panicked again and ran straight through the electric wires - snapped them like twine - and took off into the pasture. 

I watched with a mixture of horror and amazement at the incredible speed my horse displayed as he galloped away from me.  He was a race horse and I suddenly understood what that meant.  It meant that if he didn't turn around, if he broke through the electric fence at the far end and kept on running, I wasn't going to catch him for another mile or so.

But I couldn't chase him.  Blue and Dahoney were bewildered by the racing intruder and they knew their fence was broken.  I had to block their escape through the hole in the fence and shoo them back.  Three loose horses are much worse than one. 

I was relieved to see that Nox did turn around when he reached the end of the pasture.  It was a long, wide, sweeping turn, like he was on a track.  His head was high, his tail was lifted, and the lead rope was streaming out behind him.  He dug deep and galloped full speed on his way back.  The silly horse was thoroughly enjoying himself. 

After his injury on the track last November, he'd been on six months of stall rest.  He was still supposed to be taking it easy - twenty minutes of walking and maybe a little trotting if he felt good.  Mad galloping through a pasture was definitely not allowed.  Nox's pent up athletic energy was releasing like champagne exploding from an uncorked bottle and he was loving it.

He raced back and stopped dead in front of Blue, who was standing about thirty feet from me in the pasture.  They started fighting to establish who was dominant and neither wanted to concede.  Poor Dahoney, peaceful and sweet, tried once again to escape through the broken fence.  I shooed him back and he ran to far end of the pasture to escape the snorts, kicks, and stamping hooves of Nox and Blue.

This was my chance.  I walked forward, heart racing, and called to Nox reassuringly.  Both he and Blue ignored me as they kicked and struck out at each other.  I kept going, thinking only of catching my beautiful horse and ending this craziness.  My hand closed around the lead rope and I turned to walk away, praying that Nox would follow me.

He did.  The moment I took control of the lead rope Nox focused on me and let me lead him through the broken fence and out of the pasture.

But that was as far as we could go!  The fence was broken and there were two horses who wanted to get out!  And I was alone!!  And my cell phone was in the barn!!!

As Dave, the stable owner, would say later: I was in quite a pickle.

We stood there for a few minutes - Nox, Blue, Dahoney and I, all staring at each other.

I tried to fix the fence.  Still holding Nox's wet lead rope, I picked up one end of the electric wire.  I reached out for the other end, thinking I could quickly bend them together.  The second I touched the other end of the wire the electric jolt passed through me, up the wet lead rope, and zapped Nox.  We both jumped and I dropped the wires, but I held on to the rope.

Blue and Dahoney were pacing in front of me, hoping for a chance to get out.  Nox was breathing hard and I wanted to get him into the indoor ring to cool down.  I considered my options.  There wasn't anything solid nearby to tie Nox to.  My lead rope was too short to span the length of broken fence.  I could stand there until someone came along to help me, but who knew how long that would be?

I tried to fix the fence again, this time standing on the lead rope to keep Nox from getting zapped.  The jolt was strong enough that I could not hold on to the wires to bend the ends together. 

Apparently, it was not strong enough to deter me from trying four more times.  I was desperate!

Another few minutes passed as I stood there in complete frustration.  The two mares who live in the next pasture over whinnied to Nox.  I looked over at them.  Their pasture is separated from the gelding's pasture by a wide aisle.  The stable owners don't want boarders to ride down these aisles so they block them off with a lengths of electric tape fencing tied to the fence posts.

I noticed the length of fencing blocking the aisle.  It was only about twenty feet away from me.  It was my only hope.

I waved my arms and hissed at Blue and Dahoney to back them up, at the same time murmuring sweet assurances to Nox.  I quickly walked Nox to the aisle, shouting threats to Blue as he inched towards the unguarded broken fence.  I stood on the lead rope once more, just in case the aisle fencing was charged.  Thankfully, it wasn't.  I untied the electric tape, walked Nox back to the broken section of fence, and tied the tape between the fence posts.

The hole was closed.  Blue and Dahoney were safely contained in their pasture.  I took Nox to the indoor ring and we walked a few laps.  He was still covered in shampoo.  Once he calmed down and was breathing normally, I took him back to the bathing area and rinsed him off.  He stood quietly and let the water wash over him, like nothing had happened.  I put him safely away in his stall and brushed him until he was dry.

The stable owners came home and I explained the whole story, showed them the broken fence, and apologized profusely.  They were just glad that no one was hurt or lost.

Me too.

It's all part of horsemanship - being scared to death once in a while.  It's not all carrots, nuzzles, and great days of riding.  This incident is why I'm now very careful about what I do when I'm alone at the barn.  And why I always keep my cell phone in my pocket. 

You live and you learn.

Nox during a more recent bath.
Best Husband Ever is holding the lead rope this time.

  

   

     

But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep... ~ Robert Frost

Today was a windy and cool fall day.  Not just windy - blustery.  Nox gets a little "high" on blustery days, as many horses do.  It's part of their prey instincts to get anxious in weather like this.  The sound of the wind makes it difficult to listen for predators.  The trees and bushes sway strangely and leaves are blowing around, making it difficult to spot the dangerous movements of a wolf or lion.

I was alone at the barn today and even the stable owners, who live on site, were gone for the evening.  I'm often the only person riding in the afternoons (many of the boarders ride in the morning) but usually the stable owners are home.

Being completely alone and seeing that Nox was excited and spooky from the wind, I decided not to ride.  Safety first.

Instead, Nox got a few hours of free time and ground work in the indoor ring.  We walk around on the lead rope and practice walk/whoa transitions.  We back up, turn around, move the front hooves, and move the back hooves - it's like equine hokey pokey. 

I always end our day with a thorough grooming session.  On days that I ride him, Nox receives the full grooming routine twice.  He loves to be curried and brushed and I enjoy spending that time with him.  I still marvel that this gorgeous horse is actually mine and I need to physically touch him to prove that he is real. 

It's strange to have childhood dream come true when you're an adult.  I'm old enough to understand how fragile life is and how precariously we balance between good times and bad.  I'm young enough to clearly remember all the things my twelve year old self fervently promised to do if I had my own horse.  And so, I carefully comb out Nox's thick tail and sweep every last speck of dust from his shiny coat.  I clean my tack, figure-eight my bridle, and pick out the manure from his stall. 

And I love him.    

Me, 12 years old, showing on a borrowed horse named Phantom.

        

If I ever get a gray horse, he'll be called "Lumos"...

"Evenings End" is actually a very nice name, as far as race horse names go.  Watch any horse race and you'll hear some very odd names.  I like "Evenings End" but it's too cumbersome to call out in a pasture.  He needs a barn name - a nick name - for every day use.  I'll still use "Evenings End" if/when we start showing, but I want to call him something cool and representative of his quirky personality. 

I decided on "Nox" almost immediately.  It fits his personality and it just sounds right.  

I tell most people that I picked "Nox" because it is the Roman word for "night".  The end of the evening is night time, so that makes sense.  It's a nice, coincidental, almost literal translation.

Some people associate it with nitrous oxide and fast cars.

The people who know me best know the real reason:

"Nox" is the magical spell from Harry Potter to extinguish all of the lights.

So much for being cool.

Nox, aka Evenings End

 

  

How it all started - Part Two

I've been gazing at the pictures of beautiful Thoroughbreds posted on several Off Track Thoroughbred rescue websites for more than five years.  I watched one horse after another disappear from the adoptable list as they went off to new homes.  I would fall madly in love with their pictures and memorize their bios.  I wasn't in a position to adopt a horse, but I dreamed about it.  

I admire what these Thoroughbred rescues do.  The horse racing industry spits out thousands of unwanted horses as they are injured or lose their competitive edge.  Given the chance to heal and calm down, these horses known as Off Track Thoroughbreds can go on to have full lives as pasture pets, pleasure and trail horses, and competitive dressage/ jumper/ eventing athletes.  Thoroughbred rescues take these amazing horses in and set them up for new careers by providing veterinary care, rehabilitation, and retraining. 

Best Husband Ever and I were ready to add a horse to our little family of three - the two of us and Moose, our fifteen pound Yorkie-poo.  Suddenly, my hopeful browsing of Thoroughbred rescues became a serious endeavor.  I lined up an equine vet, a farrier, and a boarding stable for my future horse.  All of these rescues specify (understandably) that they will not adopt horses to first-time horse owners.  This worried me, because technically this would be my first horse.  I filled out applications to a few rescues in New York state and included a three page essay outlining my years of horse experience and tugged at their heartstrings with a much longer version of my first post on this blog.  

My applications were accepted by all of the rescues.  I was beyond thrilled!  I resisted the urge to drive to the closest rescue barn and load up the first horse I saw.  I knew exactly what I wanted in a Thoroughbred and I wanted to keep this horse for the rest of his life, so I was going to be choosy.  I scrolled through hundreds of pictures and bios, waiting for "the one". 

I saw his picture in mid-April and my heart flip flopped.  The description only gave his name, age, color, and height.  Evenings End, 2005, dark bay, 16.2 hands.  He checked off all of my superficial preferences - tall, dark, and handsome - but I knew nothing about his physical condition or even where he was.  This website was for a sort of "stop over" at the Philadelphia race track for horses immediately coming off the track; a place they stayed temporarily until a Thoroughbred rescue could take them in.  I searched for him at other rescue sites in neighboring states, but I couldn't find him.  I tried to forget about him and focus on finding a horse at one of the local rescues.  

Two weeks later, I found him.  Evenings End was at the South Jersey Thoroughbred Rescue and Adoption.  His description said that he was in "rehab" and would be available soon.  I emailed the rescue immediately and inquired about Evenings End.  What was he being rehabbed for?  How was his temperament?  Would he be able to jump after his injury healed?  The answers came back in a few short hours.  Erin, the organization's wonderful director, told me that Evenings End came off the track last November with a broken coffin bone.  His personality was as great as he was gorgeous.  With enough time to heal, his prognosis was excellent and, yes, he would make an elegant hunter/jumper.

I had to see him.  Erin and I settled on Memorial Day weekend for a meet and greet.

A friend joked that I had a blind date with a horse.      

My best friend Linds agreed to accompany me on the twelve hour round trip drive to the farm in New Jersey.  The second I saw Evenings End he was mine.  I tried to stay impartial.  I reminded myself to keep a level head and wait to see if we connected.  I wanted to see him move and spend some time with him.

Evenings End walked with a bit of a limp and he was little mouthy - nipping at the hem of my shirt, nuzzling my pockets looking for treats, and trying to eat Linds' cell phone.  He was stunningly beautiful.  His foster mom had clearly taken excellent care of him.  His dark chocolate brown coat glistened and his black mane and tail were thick and soft.  He stuck his tongue out and loved having it rubbed - just like a horse I had known as a kid.   I stroked his neck, fed him carrots, and played with him.  We connected.   

I gleefully handed over the adoption fee and made arrangements to have him trailered to my boarding stable up north.  I reluctantly left Evenings End at the farm and headed back home.  Linds drove so I could call my family and we all laughed and cried and celebrated. 

A lifelong dream had just come true.

I adopted a horse.   

                                     My blind date.

How it all started - Part One.

This past April, we were finally ready.  In the months prior we (Best Husband Ever and I) had discussed the finances and logistics of this major life decision in mature and rational conversations.  

Then I cried. 

As a result, in April, I started seriously looking for a horse. 

I've wanted my own horse since I knew what a horse was.  My parents initially thought I would grow out of it, the way many young girls who wish for ponies do.  I did not grow out it.  In fact, I passionately lobbied for my own horse every birthday and Christmas for a steady, obsessively consistent, eight years.  In response (desperation?), my parents finally agreed to pay for riding lessons at a gorgeous stable that came complete with a trainer from Ireland and a barn full of beautiful horses. 

From the moment I arrived at the stable, I was fundamentally changed.  The scent of the barn - hay, leather, horse sweat, dirt, and manure - was intoxicating.  The horse's warm breath and soft muzzle were soothing to my shy preteen spirit.  My toes were born to be in saddle stirrups and my fingers were meant to grasp braided leather reins. 

It was like that scene in The Sorcerer's Stone when Harry first held his wand in Ollivander's shop - a perfect match.

I have since spent almost 20 years riding and loving other people's horses.  I couldn't afford my own horse and I was moving around the country too frequently to keep one.  I always made a friend who had horses, or found a stable that needed someone to exercise horses, and I satisfied my addiction that way.  Riding other people's horses is not the same as riding your own, and as grateful as I was to have generous, wonderful friends who let me ride, I ached for my own horse to love.     

That all changed in May.