There was a horse at our stables that had only been there for three or four months. He was the prettiest Thoroughbred stallion I've ever met, and the nicest (unlike another horse in the next-door stall who would kill you). A gorgeous gray, with a winning personality and attitude. I was actually planning to buy him, if he ever went up for sale. I had never ridden him, but I loved him.
You can imagine what a shock it was when I went to his stall one day to not find him. I looked in the other stalls, and even in the other barns. He wasn't anywhere. I then asked someone where he might be. She began to get teary-eyed.
I hadn't been there in a week, so I wasn't completely up-to-date on things. But apparently he had been put out in the paddock with a mare named Natalie (I had ridden her and she was great), and she had gotten too rowdy, or too crazy, or something, and had killed him.
I don't know how it happened, but I do know that on that day a lot of dreams were crushed.
I had one picture of him, which I ended up giving away. I will miss him forever.
My Winning Colors.