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It seems impossible that it has been five years since my best friend came into my life, yet it feels
like it was only yesterday. It was a cool, sunny March day in 2000. The sun streamed through the windows in the barn. The
snow, sparkling like glitter, had begun to melt and the ground was softening beneath it. Streams of water ran from the roof,
dripping down the remaining icicles to the snow banks below. The air was crisp and cool, lingering with the sweet smell of
a new season. The birds sang cheerfully in the bare, budding trees. The horses were standing in their paddocks with the sun
shining down upon them, warming their furry bodies and feeding their dreams of the lush green pastures to come. It was a beautiful
day, but I was not very content.
Less than a week earlier I had been thrown from Neat, the young Appendix Quarter
Horse that I had been leasing for just over a month. It was a freak accident, but I suffered a concussion and was knocked
unconscious. After a trip to the Emergency room and some brief time off of riding to regain my natural balance, I knew that
my dreams of owning Neat and showing him throughout the summer were just a fantasy. I knew that my mother and Nancy, my trainer,
would not let me continue on with him. When I sat down on the old tattered couch in the viewing room to talk with Nancy, I
knew that the inevitable had come. I had tears streaming down my cheeks as she and I discussed the fact that Neat probably
was not the horse for me, though he had come far in his training, he was still very young and unpredictable. Somewhere in
the conversation Nancy had mentioned that Scotty, a Saddlebred who had been boarded at the barn for a few months, had originally
been brought to the barn for me to ride. His owner, Sandy, was getting him tacked up to ride and I could still try him out
if I wanted to.
At the mention of Scotty’s name, so many thoughts were
rushing through my head. I had always loved to watch Sandy ride Scotty, but he was wild in his stall. As soon as the lead
rope was unclipped from his halter, Scotty would begin weaving back and forth and hollering to all of the horses. He was a
nightmare, and he was definitely not the type of horse that I wanted to own or ride. He was also a Saddlebred, which is not
your typical hunter breed, especially where I live. Did I really want this horse? Was he right for me? He was crazy!
I looked out of the viewing room window to Scotty’s stall where he stood as still
as a statue. His eyes seemed to call me, begging me to give him a chance. I finally gave in and ran from the viewing room
into the tack room to fetch my helmet. It was the best decision that I had made in all of my seventeen years. I rolled open
the door into the arena, the cool air biting at my tear stained cheeks. I walked up to Scotty and give him a little pat on
the shoulder before mounting. I felt as though I had just leaped onto the Empire State building, he was a big boy. My whole
body was rigid and tense from crying, so I walked him around the arena one lap in hopes that I would relax. Then I heard Nancy
yell to me, “Trot that horse!” I picked up a trot and thought about how uncomfortable, though willing, Scotty
was. I often referred to his trot that day as driving down an old dirt road in a car without shocks.
I had Scotty on a one week trial to see if I wanted to lease him for the summer. Every
day when I came to the barn, I was excited to see the goofy chestnut and began to love him more each day. Everything about
Scotty felt right, like the missing piece to the puzzle, and most importantly, I trusted him with my life. I decided to lease
him for the summer, knowing that Sandy was trying to sell him as well. Many shows came and went, and countless blue ribbons
followed me home. Everything seemed to fall into place, and I was already thinking about the following year when the moment
of truth arrived. While attending a clinic with Scotty, Sandy had announced that he was for sale and would be available at
the end of the show season. My heart sank into my toes and I could hardly speak. This was my best friend that she was talking
about selling. This was my horse! Many people inquired about Scotty that day, but, thankfully, nobody was very serious about
purchasing him.
After that day I begged my parents day and
night to let me buy Scotty. I promised to help pay for everything if they let me purchase him. I gave up my dreams of college
for this horse, having paid for him with savings bonds that my parents had acquired to help pay for my college education.
He was my other half, the yin to my yang, so to speak. And thus our journey began on that cool March day. He is my best friend,
and now my life is complete.
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