We Will Never Forget Him
It seems that with everything we do in life, something goes terribly wrong afterwards. It's just the way it is we suppose. It was May 12th, 2004. I was 8, and I was finishing up my riding lessons with my mom. He was 8 also, same birthday, and everything else along with it. His name was Jethro and his was 12.2 hands high, bay, with a big blaze running down the middle, but goes sideways towards his nose. He was nick-named "Deathro" because of his horrible attitude and willingness to do...well...nothing! But the minute he kept bucking my sister off, I knew he was for me. When my sister got her new horse, he was all mine. I worked with him, and became the only one who could catch him in the pasture or ride him. I won all my events on him, and he never misbehaved; not even once. However, not all stories have happy endings. When I came home from school one day, he was nowhere to be seen. I searched everywhere and finally found him in the far pasture, at the top of the hill. He came towards me at an unusually slow rate. I could tell he was in pain, so I went to him instead of his normal, "Oh, you must have something for me. I am coming!" He never moved a foot after that. My mom and I gave him pain-killers, but finally asked the vet to come and examine him. The vet came, did some examinations and within the next few days, we got the report back. He was in terrible pain. He had broken his pelvis and fractured part of his hind leg. It was then and there we knew what we had to do. The next few days went by and we finally called the vet with our decision. As she came up the hill, I was petting and soothing him as well as I could. The vet braided his tail and put him to sleep. He was buried at the top of the hill, next to the very tree we used to run around chasing each other in circles. We moved, and when we got settled in, we went to a nearby horse area. We found our lot and bought a horse, who had very good confirmation, but only showed his legs. I was quite worried about this, but when he got here he pranced right to me. His name was Reuben and he was 13.2, a rascal, bay, with a blaze exactly like Jethro's. He was amazing and from then on we did everything together. He is now able to jump 3 foot at a trot, and can do a lot more! My mom and I went to Tennessee to visit relatives and decided to go back to our farm, which is now turned into the Berry Sweet Bed and Breakfast (check it out on google!). There we went to the store, bought flowers, and went to the hill and looked at the sunset, each of us on either side of his grave with the flowers in the middle.
Jeffie- You will never be forgetten. Reuben is now the living memory of you.