Throwback: My Big Red Horse
My Trainer took me out to an auction house when I was 15 years old. My dad came too. We were there to help my trainer find a new lesson horse. His mare was getting old, and needed to retire. My trainer was also my coach, my lesson instructor, and a dear family friend. We affectionately called him Mr. Bee, as his last name started with a B, and was challenging to pronounce and spell. There were horses crammed into pens. A small round pen surrounded by bleachers and a single wide trailer served as the office. I wandered the pens, trying to find any good options. And there he was. He looked like a giraffe. In a sea of hides and horses, crammed into pens together, his long red neck extended like a flag pole. His head held high above all the other ranch horses, I swear it felt like he was looking right at me. That's the one. That's the one I want I told Mr. Bee. He nodded. He went into the Auction house office and ten minutes later he came back, paperwork ...