How it began...
It all started with 1 Half Arabian horse...
As a child I had always loved horses. It didn't matter what color they were, how big or small; if it was a horse, I worshipped it. I can remember taking crayons and coloring "markings" on my toy horses. (This is back when the plastic cowboys and Indians came with horses of believable colors rather than the neon colors of today...)
I lived for the weekend days when my parents would decide to go "up to the country" in hopes that I might get a chance to see horses.
I think my parents' first mistake was that first pony ride. From that point on, I was hooked. My grandparents lived in Newark, NJ across the street from (what seemed to me at the time, being a kid) a large park. I had visions of looking out from the front porch and seeing a pony of my own living there. Every year I would beg for Santa to bring me a pony, and every year my mother or grandmother would patiently explain that Newark was not the place for a pony. And never mind that park across the street. ;-)
The years went by, and I grew up, but I never outgrew that dream of my own horse. When I turned 21 I had gotten a job that paid fairly well and started to put some money aside. That summer while on vacation and out riding with my cousin, on her horses, she and I passed a farm with a sign that read "Horses bought, sold and boarded." As we passed by on the trail, I saw a beautiful Pinto horse out grazing in one of their fields. I commented on that horse, and expressed the wish yet again for a horse of my own. Little did I know where that wish would take me.
The next day we went out riding again, on that same trail. But this time my cousin suggested we go look and see what the farm had for sale. I shook my head no, and told her that I was afraid to find out the horse that I'd basically drooled over was too far out of my price range. A price range I hadn't even set yet, mind you. She insisted and threatened to grab the bridle of the horse I was riding and lead me up the driveway. I gave in--grudgingly--and we went up to the barnyard. I could hear the sounds of hooves on the cement of the barnyard, but couldn't see around the box truck where the sounds came from. Further investigation revealed a set of 4 white feet trotting in place behind that truck. The horse dealer came out and asked if she could help us, and before I could say anything, my cousin blurted out "She's looking for a horse." I shot her a dirty look that she pretended to not see, and when the dealer asked me what I was looking for, I replied I was looking for an "Arab Pinto" figuring such a thing didn't exist. Her reply was that she had just the horse I was looking for. And leading me around the front of that truck, she turned and pointed to the owner of those white feet that had been trotting in place. The first thing that struck me was the eyes on this horse. They were blue. And looking right at me.
As a child I had always loved horses. It didn't matter what color they were, how big or small; if it was a horse, I worshipped it. I can remember taking crayons and coloring "markings" on my toy horses. (This is back when the plastic cowboys and Indians came with horses of believable colors rather than the neon colors of today...)
I lived for the weekend days when my parents would decide to go "up to the country" in hopes that I might get a chance to see horses.
I think my parents' first mistake was that first pony ride. From that point on, I was hooked. My grandparents lived in Newark, NJ across the street from (what seemed to me at the time, being a kid) a large park. I had visions of looking out from the front porch and seeing a pony of my own living there. Every year I would beg for Santa to bring me a pony, and every year my mother or grandmother would patiently explain that Newark was not the place for a pony. And never mind that park across the street. ;-)
The years went by, and I grew up, but I never outgrew that dream of my own horse. When I turned 21 I had gotten a job that paid fairly well and started to put some money aside. That summer while on vacation and out riding with my cousin, on her horses, she and I passed a farm with a sign that read "Horses bought, sold and boarded." As we passed by on the trail, I saw a beautiful Pinto horse out grazing in one of their fields. I commented on that horse, and expressed the wish yet again for a horse of my own. Little did I know where that wish would take me.
The next day we went out riding again, on that same trail. But this time my cousin suggested we go look and see what the farm had for sale. I shook my head no, and told her that I was afraid to find out the horse that I'd basically drooled over was too far out of my price range. A price range I hadn't even set yet, mind you. She insisted and threatened to grab the bridle of the horse I was riding and lead me up the driveway. I gave in--grudgingly--and we went up to the barnyard. I could hear the sounds of hooves on the cement of the barnyard, but couldn't see around the box truck where the sounds came from. Further investigation revealed a set of 4 white feet trotting in place behind that truck. The horse dealer came out and asked if she could help us, and before I could say anything, my cousin blurted out "She's looking for a horse." I shot her a dirty look that she pretended to not see, and when the dealer asked me what I was looking for, I replied I was looking for an "Arab Pinto" figuring such a thing didn't exist. Her reply was that she had just the horse I was looking for. And leading me around the front of that truck, she turned and pointed to the owner of those white feet that had been trotting in place. The first thing that struck me was the eyes on this horse. They were blue. And looking right at me.