JennVera
04-28-2006, 11:14 PM
The day of May 26th, 1993, I realized that this would be one of the most memorable ones in my life. Early, on this particular morning, my mother Ruth told me to hurry up and get ready, for she had a surprise for me. While rushing to get ready, I begged her to tell me what the surprise was. All she would say was, “You’ll just have to wait and see.” Driving down the road, I sat impatiently wondering what this surprise was. We finally pulled into a long, narrow, round-a-bout driveway that had a bright red house right in the center of it. Near the other side of the driveway, was a pasture with a barn of the same color as the house and a corral that looked as if horses had been tromping about. I was so confused thinking, “I have no idea where I am at and who this lady is that is walking up to our vehicle.” The plump, cheerful lady, whose name was Cheryl, confronted my mom and said, “You must be Ruth, are you ready to go out and see her?” “See who?” I asked my mom, but all she said was, “You’ll just have to wait and see.” I followed the two in complete suspense toward the pasture.
As we crawled over the fence and walked through the manure filled pasture, a big, beautiful white horse came waltzing up to us. I then realized we were coming to see horses and possibly go riding, for my mom and I loved horses. We kept on walking until we came to small gates which lead to a corral. The big white horse, named Tsar, curiously followed us to the gates. My mom and I followed Cheryl around the corner of the barn to a stall door. We stood there anxiously to see what was behind the door. Cheryl quietly opened the stall door, and out trotted the most beautiful, elegant horse I had ever seen. Her coat was a sleek, rusty brown color and her black mane and tail glistened in the sun light as she pranced around the corral. The mare finally calmed down and walked right up to me. She had a big, white star in the middle of her forehead and her big, brown eyes were full of life. I asked Cheryl what the mares name was and she replied with, “Dreamakers Mishar.” Dreamakers Mishar was a purebred Arabian who at the time was up for sale, but I did not know this. Hours went by as we watched the spunky little mare run around the corral. Finally, my mom decided it was time to go and then told Cheryl that she would be in contact with her.
Driving back to our home, my mom fessed up and told me that she wanted to buy a horse for us. I begged her to buy Mishar, but she still wanted to look around some more. I was so depressed that she did not buy Mishar right then and there. I thought to myself, “We will never get a horse, and if we ever do, it is going to take forever.” When we arrived at our house, I ran directly upstairs to my room. I had so many mixed emotions going through my mind. Part of me was excited that we were looking for a horse to own, but then I was angry, because my mom did not buy Mishar. I wanted this horse desperately.
The next morning was a quiet one. No one mentioned anything about the previous day in case it would start an argument. I then heard my German Shepard, Lady, barking at a vehicle pulling a horse trailer behind it down our driveway. I threw on my shoes and dashed out the door. My mom followed closely behind me. Cheryl climbed out of the old, rusted pickup truck and walked around to greet us. Meanwhile, all I could hear was the trampling of hooves in the trailer. We walked to the back of the trailer and opened the door. There stood Mishar, looking at us like she was saying, “Well hurry up and let me out!” She then gave us an excited whinny and pranced out of the trailer almost knocking Cheryl over. Right then, I knew she was mine. I was so happy to have a horse of my own.
Days and years went by, and I was constantly out in the pasture with my prized possession, grooming her, feeding her and exercising her. Then everything turned for the worst. A couple of friends had come over with one of their horses and wanted to go for a ride. I let my one friend take Mishar, because I was in the process of training another horse. Our trail ride went great and on the way back to my house, we let our horse’s relax from their strenuous exercise. As we walked down the driveway, I told my friend to go ahead and unsaddle Mishar and put her in the pasture. I also put the horse I was training in the pasture with her. I ran inside to answer a phone call when my friend had come running in screaming at the top of her lungs. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Pappy just kicked Mishar and broke her leg…. Hurry up and get out here!” I thought she was pulling my leg, but as I ran out behind her, I saw my life come crashing down. Mishar was galloping around the pasture on three legs. I was hysterical as I called every veterinarian in town. My mom was gone at this time, so I had to also try to find her as well. Four hours passed and Mishar was so exhausted from running around in agonizing pain. By this time, I found my mom and the veterinarian from down the street came to our rescue. Dr. Ross told us that Mishar’s leg could be reconstructed, but it would cost approximately $10,000. He then told us that she would never be able to be ridden again. My mom was not financially able to pay this vet bill, so we decided to put her down.
After Mishar’s death and a couple of months, we went to the Enumclaw Sales Pavilion, where they auctioned off horses and cattle. All I can remember was hearing “Sold for $200 to number 126!” Romeo then became part of our lives.
As we crawled over the fence and walked through the manure filled pasture, a big, beautiful white horse came waltzing up to us. I then realized we were coming to see horses and possibly go riding, for my mom and I loved horses. We kept on walking until we came to small gates which lead to a corral. The big white horse, named Tsar, curiously followed us to the gates. My mom and I followed Cheryl around the corner of the barn to a stall door. We stood there anxiously to see what was behind the door. Cheryl quietly opened the stall door, and out trotted the most beautiful, elegant horse I had ever seen. Her coat was a sleek, rusty brown color and her black mane and tail glistened in the sun light as she pranced around the corral. The mare finally calmed down and walked right up to me. She had a big, white star in the middle of her forehead and her big, brown eyes were full of life. I asked Cheryl what the mares name was and she replied with, “Dreamakers Mishar.” Dreamakers Mishar was a purebred Arabian who at the time was up for sale, but I did not know this. Hours went by as we watched the spunky little mare run around the corral. Finally, my mom decided it was time to go and then told Cheryl that she would be in contact with her.
Driving back to our home, my mom fessed up and told me that she wanted to buy a horse for us. I begged her to buy Mishar, but she still wanted to look around some more. I was so depressed that she did not buy Mishar right then and there. I thought to myself, “We will never get a horse, and if we ever do, it is going to take forever.” When we arrived at our house, I ran directly upstairs to my room. I had so many mixed emotions going through my mind. Part of me was excited that we were looking for a horse to own, but then I was angry, because my mom did not buy Mishar. I wanted this horse desperately.
The next morning was a quiet one. No one mentioned anything about the previous day in case it would start an argument. I then heard my German Shepard, Lady, barking at a vehicle pulling a horse trailer behind it down our driveway. I threw on my shoes and dashed out the door. My mom followed closely behind me. Cheryl climbed out of the old, rusted pickup truck and walked around to greet us. Meanwhile, all I could hear was the trampling of hooves in the trailer. We walked to the back of the trailer and opened the door. There stood Mishar, looking at us like she was saying, “Well hurry up and let me out!” She then gave us an excited whinny and pranced out of the trailer almost knocking Cheryl over. Right then, I knew she was mine. I was so happy to have a horse of my own.
Days and years went by, and I was constantly out in the pasture with my prized possession, grooming her, feeding her and exercising her. Then everything turned for the worst. A couple of friends had come over with one of their horses and wanted to go for a ride. I let my one friend take Mishar, because I was in the process of training another horse. Our trail ride went great and on the way back to my house, we let our horse’s relax from their strenuous exercise. As we walked down the driveway, I told my friend to go ahead and unsaddle Mishar and put her in the pasture. I also put the horse I was training in the pasture with her. I ran inside to answer a phone call when my friend had come running in screaming at the top of her lungs. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Pappy just kicked Mishar and broke her leg…. Hurry up and get out here!” I thought she was pulling my leg, but as I ran out behind her, I saw my life come crashing down. Mishar was galloping around the pasture on three legs. I was hysterical as I called every veterinarian in town. My mom was gone at this time, so I had to also try to find her as well. Four hours passed and Mishar was so exhausted from running around in agonizing pain. By this time, I found my mom and the veterinarian from down the street came to our rescue. Dr. Ross told us that Mishar’s leg could be reconstructed, but it would cost approximately $10,000. He then told us that she would never be able to be ridden again. My mom was not financially able to pay this vet bill, so we decided to put her down.
After Mishar’s death and a couple of months, we went to the Enumclaw Sales Pavilion, where they auctioned off horses and cattle. All I can remember was hearing “Sold for $200 to number 126!” Romeo then became part of our lives.