The Loss of a Friend

Recently, an old friend of mine lost her horse to a bout of colic. She and I were close friends it seems like a lifetime ago, and her horse, Jet was the most amazing Morgan I’ve even known. He taught me so much about friendship, respect of power , and how to find the middle ground. He was a challenge to ride for some, almost scary to others – but Jet and I came to a compromise early into our relationship. I wouldn’t bother him, and he wouldn’t kill me. I have never ridden a horse with as much power and fire, yet I trusted him so completely. I loved nothing more than being able to hop on him bareback and go for a rocket canter around the ring – it was like riding a coiled spring that was ready to pop. He had the most comfortable “jig” dance trot out on trails – he was often impatient and always ready to go.
While reflecting fondly back on those years of memories, I’ve realized that we didn’t take enough pictures, actually any pictures, and I’m saddened to not have a single tribute to post of Jet. The only tribute I have are my vivid memories of a beautiful, sleek black Morgan with his tongue over the bit, head up, dancing impatiently down the trail ahead of Romeo. He was always ready for the next adventure around the bend in the road.
Happy Trails, my old friend. You can run all you want now; there is nothing in your way.