When I was in the 7th grade I drew this picture of a black stallion and I pasted it to my wall. I still have the picture, on the back it says... My dream horse is a pure black thoroughbred arabian stallion named Black Fury.
What really cracks me up is that I obviously thought that thoroughbred meant pure-bred! What I find really funny is that Riley's (my horse) dad was a black stallion (QH) named... Fury!
Anyway, I got my first horse Pistol at the age of three, he's almost 29 now. He was a rescue case and when I say that, I mean it. He was several hundred pounds under weight and had been beaten pretty badly. He has a permanent scar on his withers from an ill fitting saddle and one on his face from an abscessed tooth that blew out the front. When I got him, I wouldn't let anyone ride him because I wanted a "one man" horse. I also would not discipline him, for anything, ever. He was abused you know... He was a rearer which I thought was really awesome so I slapped a command to it and reared all the time.....
What I ended up with was an ornery old cuss whom I love dearly and I do truley beleive we have a bond or a connection or something, but it comes from being together for so many years. He knows me, he trusts me, I know him, I trust him... we are a team.