I love my horse. If Cliff and I are able to stay here in the country long enough, I intend for Blue to live out his days here with us. If he gets to the point where he has no quality of life, Cliff will painlessly put him to sleep for me. Cliff worked in a butcher shop for years, and he knows how to give an animal a quick death with a well-placed bullet.
I had, during brief losses of mental lucidity, talked about someday breeding my filly, Libby, to a jackass so I'd have a mule to play with. After reading about the glut of horses on the market, I hereby swear in front of the whole world that I won't breed Libby, ever. That would be as irresponsible as letting an un-neutered female dog roam the neighborhood. And believe me, here in the country I've seen plenty of that.
Isn't she pretty?
I've been ponying her a lot lately with a saddle on her back, and she's thriving on it. I originally thought she'd be a big horse. I don't think so now. The best Cliff and I could figure, she is 13.2 hands, and she's two years old next month. She'll do well to make 14 hands, I think.Yesterday I sat briefly on her, in the saddle. She reacted not at all.