I first met Pheobe winter of 2007. My friend and I were going to the barn each Sunday and hanging out, as we were beginners and couldn't ride during the winter [the beginner ponies go down south for the winter]. Each Sunday as we walked back to the lower barn, we'd pass Pheobe, sticking her head out of her stall door, which was right at the end of the barn. We'd stop and pet her and give her treats- if we had them, they were hers. Obviously, we'd see her before all the other horses and wouldn't be able to resist. On our way back to our cars, we'd do the same. She became our favorite and after a while, we noticed her softening up.
My friend kind of left Pheobe after that winter. I was attached, though, and I never stopped hanging around that stall. People would ask me why I bothered- she was "too advanced" and "too dangerous". As the year progressed, she became to respond to my voice and I could always see her ears prick up when she heard or saw me. It seemed to good to be true- but this horse really loved me.
I'd probably have gone a long way with Pheobe. We were perfect for each other. I just understood her more than any other person. During the Summer, I asked my instructor if I could do some ground work with her and after a while, she got bored of it and just let me. One day, we were washing her and even though she was scared of the water, sponges, ect, she was so sweet to me and as long as I was holding her, she was calm enough. I left for three weeks toward the end of the summer, and when I came back, Pheobe was gone.
I asked my friend, Sarah, who goes to my barn, where she'd gone. She told me she'd been sold, and I was okay with that. I missed her, but I was sure anyone who loved Pheobe was a good person. Later on, I was told that no, she hadn't been sold. She'd died. Not only was I devastated- my horse was dead, but I was angry. Why hadn't anyone told me? I've never stopped missing that pour mare.
She was in the field with a huge draft horse- he was really gentle and she needed to be buddied up or she'd go crazy, but she was the only mare at our barn aside from one other, who was even crazier than she was. Pheobe hated most horses and kept biting the gelding. He put up with it for a while but after a long time, gave her a little kick. Being the huge, muscled fox hunter he was, and Pheobe being such a weak horse, he ended up breaking her leg and she had to be put down.