I’d like to share a personal horse fact with you.
Rex was the horse of my dreams. Even though, as a child, I fantasized about riding a white Lipizzaner or a Golden Palomino like Roy Rogers’ Trigger, when I became old enough to buy my own horse, I was more interested in a well-trained mount that I could trust. It didn’t matter if he was purple with three ears as long as he was a “safe” ride.
I bought Rex from a lady doctor who was into breeding and showing Paint horses. She needed more room in her barn for her expensive show horses, so she decided to sell her grade stock, and Rex was one of them.
Rex was part Tennessee Walker and part Quarter Horse. He was only 14 1/2 hands tall and had the beautiful round rump of a Quarter Horse. Yet, he had the neck, head, and smooth gait of the Tennessee Walker.
The first time I rode him at the doctor’s farm, I thought I was in horse heaven. He had been trained for the ring and did figure eights in perfect confirmation, high stepping in that famous Tennessee Walker shuffle. Yet, when I rode him outside the ring on the dirt road, he was the perfect gentleman for a lazy afternoon’s trail ride.
He was a bay and was about 14 years old when I bought him. We spent many hours together on trail rides. He loved sugar cubes, and when I hid them in my jacket pockets, he’d nudge me and nibble at my coat until I gave the little white lumps to him. Cleaning Rex’s hooves was a charm. He had been trained to lift the foot of the leg that I tapped. He never kicked and he never bit. When I put young children on his back, he knew it and was as gentle as a lamb in his slow walk.
Rex died in my arms at the age of 25 from old age. I cried for weeks, and now as I think about him, I am filling up with tears. He was a horse that gave me years of companionship and pleasure, and I shall never forget him.
Rex was, indeed, my favorite horse, the horse of my dreams. Thank you, Rex, my dear equine friend.