My first love was my great-grandfather's old "Heinz-57 Draft" (It was big and draft shaped, that's all we ever knew) mare, leftover from the days when the farm was run entirely on real horse-power. She was solid black with one spot of white on her nose -- grandpa said there used to be a team of six of them, all black, and she was the only one with a spot of white on her! She passed away when I was quite young, and I only vaguely remember using her as my personal jungle gym for hours on end; she'd just patiently stand or lay in one spot. My father tells me stories about her and me.
The first love I still remember completely was named Shilo. My dad bought a truck from a man up the road, and when he went to pick it up, there was a large pony/small horse (I think he was ~14hh, going by old pictures) tied to the bumper and a note saying that the pony and the truck were a set, either he take the pony home or he doesn't get the title for the truck.
Never had any clue how old he was, though he was probably ~10-20ish years. He wasn't saddle broke, but I could sit on his back and be led around. And all those tales you hear of mischievous ponies? This guy was the poster child. (Probably why I have a soft spot for troublemakers
Unfortunately, in all of his troublemaking, he learned how to jump. Fences were his favorite thing to jump. So he had to be sold.
A few years later, my grade school went on a field trip to Medieval Times (it's a theme-restaurant/amusement thing/museum ish. Like a Renaissance Faire, but open year round and housed in a building. XD) and who did I see but my little Shilo running about as the jousting announcer's horse!