To the father of a horse crazy girl.


I think all the fathers of crazy horse girls

(even the ones whose daughters wear pearls)

Will easily relate to this father’s story –

It’s full of tears and guts and maybe some glory.

It is an ongoing tale of being part of our team

That is an essential element of realizing our dream.


We don’t just “like horses”, we exist just to ride,

And we’ll always have a noble steed by our side.

Though at times it may seem that we’ll outgrow this phase

We’ll always obsess over shiny chestnuts and greys.

But back to my dad, who didn’t know at the time

That horses might cost him every single dime!


Dad, you and Mom may have had too much that day

When I was just three and you both shouted, “Hey!”

“We’ve come up with the perfect birthday present,

A sweet mini tease stud, we’re sure he’ll be pleasant!”

You led me around town on that rouge Shetland pony

That stopped, dropped and rolled on roads the most stony.


I demonstrated promise by the time I was five                                                                          Image

So you jumped in the deep end, an awkward high dive

To add Gloria, a small bay, to our happy little family

And she took to her life with an attitude quite gamely.

I rode that pony round and round, lap after lap

With fly-away hair under a velvet hunt cap.


It was time to move up when I was seven years old

To a fancy grey pony, that you called “The Stro”.

A pony so smart that he lacked any fear

And you came to the shows and fed him a beer

One day unexpectedly, the Stro Pony died,                                                                                     

And you wiped away my tears as I cried and I cried.  



But being without a pony was never a question

Even you laughed at that absurd suggestion!

So with Mom, my trainer and you all in tow

We went to look at a pony into which I could grow.

You liked Andy best, with his strawberry roan coat

And we brought him back to the barn, instead of a boat.                                                                      


When I was 14 leaving the barn one night,

You leaned over and asked, with total lack of foresight(!)

If I’d like to learn how to drive the little red bug

I replied, “sure”, with an ominous shrug.

I suppose now might be time to fess up and say

That I drove to the barn many a day!


One day I turned 16 and you said with a grin

“First I’m going to take a big shot of gin

Then we’ll go hook up the red truck and two horse

Because you’ll need to haul Murray and Jordan, of course.”

And on your two door pick up with a manual tranny

I learned to pull horses, and still drive like a granny!


You didn’t bother trying to teach me to back

Knowing that was a skill I (still) sorely lacked.

Is it time now to admit what you’ve always known

(Even though I am indeed fully grown)

That I did hit that telephone pole in reverse

But swear I slid on the ice, it was some type of curse 🙂


During my teen years you were a competitive sailor

When you’d stop at a show, we’d visit the tack trailer.

There was always something of which I was in dire need

My incessant whining probably made your ears bleed.

But whether I was begging for new shirts or hats

You always gave in before it was time to watch flats!                                                                 Image


(Not that I blame you, it’s like watching grass grow,

And still, is an essential element of any show.

Who wouldn’t want to cough up a strong lung or two

Trying to pick out their kid on a brown horse in blue?)


The summer before college we lived like frat boys

No milk in the fridge, no clean socks, lots of noise.

Mom would have been appalled that we never did laundry

Who dry cleaned my hunt coat was often the quandary.

Yet you always made sure before I left for a show

That I would want for nothing with a pocket full of dough.


One day you and Mom came home with a rangy looking paint

Not knowing this horse would eventually become my saint.

You thought it silly, the money I spent on my Mouse

When I should have been saving for my very own house.

But I know you saw just how much he changed me

At a time in my life when I felt lost out at sea.                                                                              Image


There came a time when you finally “gave in”

And realized that the only true way to win

Was to become a working cowboy yourself

Whose boots gather no dust sitting on shelves.

Now you’ll head out in the desert to help round up cattle

Though you’d like a nice soft pad for your worn saddle!


You’ve sat at a million different types of tables

While Mom and I debate our ultimate dream stables.

You jokingly ask about a double twisted kimberwick

And I wish you’d invent it, it just might do the trick.

You pretend you don’t know the words to “My First Javelina”

Perhaps that’s because we sing it a bit like hyenas.


Dads of horse women are their own brand of strong

And you can correct me if you think that I’m wrong,

Though you may not want the flat class play by play

You are waiting to hear how things went through the day.

You celebrate with me, and share in my tears,

Listening to me grow as I expound on my fears.


I’m excited that next weekend you’ll meet Jorge in Green Bay.

And surprise! This time, I have my own check to pay.

I want everyone to know just what you’ve endured

Through all my horsey ups and downs that may have occurred.

I love you, Dad, I hope you spend your day on the water

Thanks for all your support, love your horse crazy daughter!



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