||Twenty-one years old|
has been my faithful partner since she was seven and I was five. My
mom bought her from a lady who didn't have any other horses, and she said
Fancy was extremely lonely. She also told us Fancy had been abused by a
lady who barrel raced her and would beat her between the ears with a quirt
to make her run faster, so she was very headshy. Before that, she had been
a racehorse under the comical name "Please Please Run", and we believe she
won about a fourth of her races before she was retired due to a bowed tendon.
Fancy quickly fit in with my family, and she had a companion, Belle, to
keep her company. Mom had originally bought Fancy for herself, but from
the time I first sat on her back, I knew she was my horse. I worked with
her to help her overcome her abusive past, and I got her to the point
where she would lower her head for the bridle and open her mouth for the
bit whereas before she held her head as high as she could to avoid being
touched (my mom would have to bridle her then). I even trained her to
barrel race, and she accepted the sport gracefully, trusting me
completely. Before most of her runs, though, she would get so nervous that
she didn't even want to go in the gate. At those moments, I would take a
deep breath and stroke her neck, and she'd slide into the arena with ease.
These days, she gets to relax at my mom's house while I'm away at college,
and whenever I come home, I open a 7up (her favorite drink) and laugh as
she laps up the soda with her big pink tongue. We don't compete anymore,
but breathing in her sweet scent as I ride her around the property is enough for me.
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