Happy Trails to You

You know, I never really wanted a white horse.  They get too dirty, and they are just kinda bland. But, the way I get most of my animals, this one just came into my life one day.  He was an older guy.  We never had agreement from the vet or the other horse specialists as to whether he was only 14, or if he was "twentyish". 

But, white horses, or any other, grow on you.  I originally called him Speck because he is not white.  The vet tech told me he was flea bitten gray and Speck sounded a lot better to me than "flea bitten".  I started calling him Mr. Speck because I thought he deserved a little more respect.  No properly raised Southerner refers to their elders without a Mr. or Miz in front of their names.

He was such a sweet gentleman.  He did push a little for his food, but I figured that if I had been starved, I would have been a little pushy too.  I am a sucker for big ole beautiful horse eyes, and he had them along with a most beautiful face.  He loved to be rubbed and appreciated any attention that he received.  I had brushed him out on the day this picture was taken, and he thought he was a Champion!


I have said before that I learn something from all my animals.  I thought I would have a longer time for Mr. Speck to teach me my lesson, but it came to an end all too quickly.  What I learned is that I can wish for something and I can work toward that something, but ultimately, I am not in charge of another life.  I agonize whenever I have to make a life or death decision, and Mr Speck made that decision for me.

The sun will still rise and it will still set.  Happy Trails to you Mr. Speck.  Your friends here at Poplar Springs Farm will miss you.