He Was the Champion, Right?

 The neighbour kids were talking with hubby after Phoenix died, commenting that we had a new horse and still had Onyx, and knew that Phee had gone.  One of the boys apparently asked Dave, "He was the champion, right?" 

When Dave relayed that story to me, I had to clench my jaw to keep from sobbing.  I was expecting them to say Phoenix was the racehorse - that's usually how kids remember him.  The Quarter Horse racehorse that reportedly won two races, but had the pin-fire scars on his legs, and the lip tattoo to prove it.  So for them to describe him as a champion broke my heart.  Because he was a champion - in so many ways - and I loved that they described him that way.

The very first place I boarded let me keep him there for a very low fee with the condition that he could be used as one of their trail horses (one of their many side businesses was doing trail rides for the general public).  I requested that he not have inexperienced riders on him and they assured me it would be the trailguides riding him (or me, when I could) rather than the customers.

Little did I know that this became a free-for-all for the other people who worked there to ride him when they felt like it.  (Or at least once.)  One of the girls came up to me when I arrived for my Q-time with him one day and said, "Your horse can really move.  I took him out in the field today and he was flying."

I was so naive back then.  So, so naive.  I never should have let them ride him and didn't know what to say to her.  While I was flattered that an experienced horseperson was complimenting him, I was extremely alarmed, angry and yes - jealous - that she had been "flying" around a pasture with him when I could barely get him to walk down the trail without freaking out.  After that day, I requested to know when they were going to use him for trailriding and was sure to be on his back instead of loaning him out.

There were some horror stories about their trailriding adventures, but we'll save that for another day.

Suffice it to say my little bay had a bit of his ancestors' blood in him (Victory Dash, Dash for Cash, War Admiral, Man o' War, John P. Grier, etc.).  His thinly veiled tolerance for silly humans and "look of eagles" were also part of that, but mostly he was just a great horse, with a great big ol' heart in him.