This is Brandybuck. He was a Appaloosa/QH/Paint mix, but just about the best western horse you could find. He was 16 at the time that he had to be put down.
Over the winter he began to limp, and we figured it was arthritis. We waited until spring to see if it would let up a little bit. When it didn't we decided to put him down, and by the time the day came he could barely stand. He had always been headshy, but in the last week he would lay his head in my lap and sleep until I had to go. Putting him down was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I'd always wanted a horse, and he was my first, but I won't be able to get another horse. Not for some years to come anyway.
Brandi loved carrots above anything else, and would do just about anything for one. He loved to run. Even though he was getting older it didn't stop him from shaking loose, and letting me feel the wind in my hair.
I was so excited when I got my first horse, but the first horse I ever had was crazy, and with each new home she got worse. I was so relieved when we finally sold her. I never considered her my horse, because I only had her for a short time, and I did nothing with her, but she led me to Brandi. The person that bought her told me about another horse, and we decided to go check him out. I can remember thinking to myself I didn't care if he was old, or swaybacked, or the same color as everybody else's horse... I just wanted a horse that I could play with. When we reached the farm I saw an old fat sorrel horse walk into the barn. I didn't see any others... and I thought to myself "that must be him"
When we walked into the barn the lady pointed to a horse in the corner pen. He was beautiful, he was all white except for his head, and two patches. One on his shoulder the other on his flank. He held his head high, and his ears perked forward. On his head he had a blaze in the shape of a champagne bottle when you pop the cork. I instantly fell in love with him when he bobbed his head up and down a bit in anticipation.
We were a perfect fit. He was just the right size where I could jump up on him bareback, but I wasn't too much for him to carry. We both had the same idea when it came to trail rides "why walk when you can run and get there twice as fast" and he would talk back to me. I would say something, and he would reply with a grunt or a snort.
He taught me many things, but the most valuable lesson he taught me was when he let out his last breath. I had to learn to move on and cherish what memories I have of him.
Farewell Brandybuck, my baby, my friend, and my heart.