Someone we know *not naming any names here* may have bought a giant baby horse. A giant goofy chestnut baby thoroughbred, to be exact.
Ok, fine. It was me.
Yes. I went full-on bat-shit crazy. I bought a giant, 5 year old, 17h chestnut thoroughbred gelding.
But wait! I can explain! It's not as crazy as it sounds. It's actually all my husband's fault. Totally true. No word of a lie.
I had all these grand plans to wait until spring, save all my pennies, and get another horse, one that was further along in its training. Something that I could get started with right away. I was Sensible. Rational. Logical. But that doesn't stop a someone from perusing the sales ads online, AmIRite? I mean, it is harmless. Porn for horse people.
I think my husband just got tired of the random bursts of crying. I mean, when your wife of 3 years breaks down in tears every few days when she thinks of her retired horse, you get a little desperate. We actually had to leave a public park because I used to ride Boca there, saw horse trailers in the parking lot, and promptly lost it. Family walk aborted.
So when said wife was casually perusing online sales ads (horse porn) hubby made a dastardly mistake. Pointing to a pic of a giant chestnut horse (that I was not even looking at, I swear) he said "Look! That telephone number is in our town. You should call it." I hemmed and I hawed, and told him all the reasons why it was a bad idea. And then he said the Magic Words. "What could it hurt?". What could it hurt, indeed? What's a harmless little phone call?
|No harm here. Just giant ears.|
But then, I did get a return call. The owner had been out of town, and had just returned home and gotten my voicemail. Yes, the horse was still available. Yes, I was welcome to come see him. And yes, he was right in my town.
How could I not? I mean, he was practically right in my back yard. I had nothing better to do on the weekend. Might as well go see a man about a horse. I roped my friend H into coming with me. She was supposed to be my voice of reason. She was going to point out all the flaws, the things that could go wrong. The reasons why this horse was not right for me.
|So not right for me|
His current owners were his breeders - a husband and wife team that had bred and raced horses for 40 years. Now in their 70's and with thoroughbred racing all but dead in New England, they only sought good homes for their remaining horses that were no longer racing.
I was doubtful. He needed to be re-started. I wouldn't be able to ride him before I bought him. He was the first and only horse I looked at. Considering buying him was madness. I texted with a friend, who, unknown to me, had also purchased a horse from his breeder. She raved about the breeder, said he accurately represented his horses in both soundness and temperament. Said his horses were lovely, started correctly and were perfect to handle. She said she wouldn't hesitate to purchase from him again. I think her final words were "Go Get Him!!!" (<--- See, not my fault. I was coerced.)
Also, the breeder took a liking to me. He had been burned in the past by buyers who had not done right by his horses after purchase. His horses had a home for life with him and he tried only to let them go to the right home. He wouldn't consider letting his horses go to be re-sold, only wanted a his horses to go to a home where they would be appreciated and cared for, not flipped as an investment. He cut the purchase price in half for me, without any asking on my part.
So, I decided to do something crazy. I decided to buy the horse.
To recap, I bought the first horse I looked at. The only horse I looked at. Without being able to try him beforehand. In fact, I decided to go full-on crazy and skip a PPE. I reasoned that the last two horses I bought, the PPE did not reveal the issues they were later plagued with, so I should not bother with a PPE this time around. #PretzelLogic
And so, as of Sunday, I now own a giant baby TB. One who bears a striking resemblance in personality and coloring to Boca. I definitely have a type. Great brain? Check. Curious? Check. Brave? Check. Willing? Check. Goofy? Check. Chestnut with a blaze and some white socks? Check, check.
Let me formally introduce you to CRIMSON TIDE.
Yes, my husband named him after his favorite football team.
Ladies, sometimes, you gotta keep the husbands happy.
Crimson came home on Monday. I was so excited to rush out after work and spend time with him. We had a perfect first night, which involved lunging w/t/c in both directions, going on cross-ties for the first time, and getting a bath with the hose.
I am so happy and excited for our journey. I have no plans and no timeline.
We'll take all the time he needs. He can be whatever he wants to be.
Whatever that ends up being, we'll do it together.