A Cautionary Tale

                                                by Laura Crum

            Several years ago my friend Wally bought a pretty black horse that belonged to a roper who needed to sell the horse quickly, due to losing his job and being unable to pay board. Wally knew this horse slightly and believed him to be gentle and a decent heel horse. The horse was said to be nine years old, he was quite sound (we jogged him in circles on the asphalt driveway), and he was priced to sell. So Wally bought him as a backup horse.

            The black horse (named Coal) turned out to have strengths and weaknesses—like all horses. He wasn’t a very good heel horse, and he obviously did not care for being a rope horse. He was, however, a lovely mover and very smooth gaited. He would willingly lope endless circles in a perfect, collected lope and he didn’t seem to mind this at all. He would pack beginners with good grace—in the arena. He wasn’t much of trail horse and acted sulky and reluctant outside and hated walking downhill. After a couple of years of messing around with him, Wally decided the horse didn’t fit him and asked our friend Mark (who is something of a horse trader) to sell the horse for him.

            Wally wanted to do right by Coal and we knew a rope horse home or a trail horse home wouldn’t suit the horse. So Wally asked Mark to try to find a Coal a good “forever” home as a walk/trot/lope arena horse. And truly, Coal was ideal for this.

            How many people out there would like a sound, gentle, eleven year old gelding—very pretty, solid black, very smooth gaited and very solid in the arena? Coal was not a particularly friendly horse—more stand-offish-- but reasonably well-mannered. He would pin his ears when cinched and sometimes made little “dolphin” bucks at the lope when he was fresh. But these were not vices that would bother even a beginner. And Coal would pack beginners patiently—I watched him do it many times.

            So Mark found what he thought was the perfect home for Coal. A middle-aged lady with a lovely horse property who owned five horses that were either too old or too lame to ride. She was keeping all of them for the rest of their lives. She just wanted a horse she could ride in the arena and do very low level dressage. She rode Coal and thought he was perfect. She seemed like the perfect home. Coal was sold and Wally made a nice profit. We all felt good about it. We thought we had done the horse a favor and placed him in a home where he would have a good life.

            The woman kept in touch with Mark and it became clear that she was very timid and even this quite-gentle gelding intimidated her with his ear pinning and occasional crowhop. Mark encouraged her to take lessons on him, which she did, and this seemed to work. She said she was very happy with him and sent photos of the horse at the small dressage shows she attended. Coal looked good. We thought all was well.

            Coal remained with this woman a year or two, but a month ago Mark got a call. The woman said that Coal had bit her and she was now afraid of him—and she wanted to sell him back. Mark agreed to take the horse back. Wally wanted no part of it. And, no matter how much I would like to help every good horse that crosses my path, I have no place to put another horse and no time to ride one. Sunny doesn’t get ridden as much as he should. I simply had to pass.

            So now Mark has Coal and is trying to find another home for him. But…and it’s a BIG but. Coal is not the same horse. He’s pushy and disrespectful and testing the boundaries at all points. Mark (or any other competent horseman) can fix this rather easily. But the horse won’t be truly suitable for a beginner to own…ever again. And this is a very sad thing for the horse’s future.

            This story is very similar to my Sunny horse. A flunked out heel horse (like Coal), gentle for beginners (like Coal), Sunny was sold (by Mark) to be a family horse and to do low level dressage and trail riding with beginners. Three years later the horse was for sale again and I bought him to be my trail horse. I soon found out why he was for sale.

            The previously polite and well-mannered Sunny now offered to kick and nip, balked at loading in the trailer, crow-hopped when annoyed, sulled up when he didn’t want to do something, was hard to catch…etc. He was, in short, very spoiled. I soon cured him of this, and at this point he’s pretty well-mannered again and a pleasant horse to ride and handle. But he hasn’t forgotten. If I do something stupid, Sunny is quick to show me that he will take advantage. He has learned his lesson. If the humans don’t know how to be in charge, the door is open for the horse to take charge. Sunny has not forgotten this. He would not be suitable for a beginner to own—though I could sure put a beginner on him for one ride. But over time it would not work out. Sunny has been effectively ruined for beginners—he is lucky that I came along for him (as I am lucky to own such a reliable trail horse).

            So people, take heed. This has been my single biggest problem placing horses over the years. I send a gentle, reliable horse to a home with well-intentioned people who are, quite frankly, dudes. But they mean well and have the money and the time and the desire to do right by the horse. I encourage them to get skilled help—and they usually try to do this. But the story so often ends like this. Several years later and they are afraid to ride or handle the horse—who now has learned to buffalo the person and is more or less a spoiled monster. Such once-well-broke horses (like my Sunny) are not that hard for a horseman to remind of their manners. But they won’t forget what they have learned from their non-horseman owners. And if they are owned/handled by beginners again, they will be quick to take advantage.

            It’s hard to say what the answer is. Never sell a good horse to dudes? That seems a little extreme. We were all beginners at one time. And beginners really need these solid horses. But this is a very frustrating and extremely common story. Well-intentioned non-horseman can almost be guaranteed to let a horse run over them more than they should allow, and most gentle, solid horses suitable for beginners are that way partly because they are level-headed and tough minded. Such a horse is quick to understand that the owner can’t make him obey, and said owner is constantly giving way to every whim that the horse displays. And soon the horse is a spoiled monster. Such a sad situation—not good for horse or person-- and so very common. Anyone have any thoughts on how to prevent this?

            

Sold

                                                            by Laura Crum

            So not too long ago I posted about my friend Wally selling a black horse named Coal. I had mixed feelings about this—here is the link to that blog post. Last week I heard that Coal has sold—to a good home. And yet, I still have mixed feelings. Maybe this is just my problem—I’d like to put my thoughts out there and see if anyone else has some insights.

            Coal was/is a pretty horse, with lovely smooth gaits and overall good manners. Wally bought the horse as a backup rope horse, but Coal wasn’t a very good rope horse, and he wasn’t very enthusiastic about it. I thought of using Coal as a backup trail horse, but the horse absolutely hated walking downhill (to the degree I wondered if he was truly sound, though he appeared 100 percent sound on level ground), and all our trails are hilly, not to mention I didn’t have an extra corral to put him in. So we all agreed that our friend Mark, a young trainer/horse trader, who had been keeping Coal, could sell the 11 year old gelding, with the stipulation that it must be to a good, appropriate, home. Not as a rope horse. Not as a trail horse in hilly country. Hopefully to a forever home.

            I don’t have many photos of Coal, and, as a black horse, he was/is hard to photograph. But here is a shot of Coal and Mark bringing the roping cattle up the alley along with my son and Henry.

            So Mark sold Coal to a woman in her sixties who has six retired horses—due to age or injury-- and wanted one she could ride. Just a sound, gentle horse. She lives in California’s central valley, where everything is flat, so no hills. She just wanted a walk/trot lope arena horse. She has a beautiful horse facility; all her horses are given the best of care. She fell in love with Coal, who is certainly as nice a walk/trot/lope horse as anybody could ask for. And Coal passed the vet check—which inclines me to think that he just doesn’t LIKE walking downhill, and doesn’t have soundness issues. The X-rays showed no incipient problems. Before this gal even hauled the horse home, she insured him for medical. She readily agreed that we had the right to buy him back if she sold him. But she has never sold a horse. Coal has a stall with an attached 100 foot run. There is pasture turnout. Does this sound like a good home or what?

            But…despite the fact that this is obviously a good, loving owner, she is not a particularly knowledgeable horse person. And Coal, though well broke, has his “stuff” as all horses do. He is a bit cinchy and inclined to make faces when cinched, and to crowhopping when kicked up to the lope after time off. He couldn’t/wouldn’t buck anyone off, but he will hump his back and do those little dolphin bucks. He will spook occasionally. Mark says he gets grouchy if he isn’t ridden regularly. And Coal, by my own observation, though a polite horse, is not a particularly friendly horse. This all fits easily within my own definition of a gentle, broke horse, but then I think of my horse, Sunny.

            Mark was the one who bought Sunny from a rope horse trader, maybe eight years ago now. Sunny was cute and gentle and well-mannered. He was not, however, a very good rope horse. Too slow, not handy enough. Mark tested the horse on the arena and the trail, and thought he was absolutely a solid, bombproof trail horse/riding horse, and that this would be a better life for him than being a team roping horse. (I saw Sunny during the two week period Mark owned him, and can attest to the truth of all this.)

            So Mark sold Sunny to what seemed like an ideal home. A fairly experienced horsewoman, with several riding horses that she’d owned for years, who trail rode a lot, and dabbled in dressage, bought Sunny as a riding horse for her daughter and a backup trail horse in general. And to begin with, this woman loved Sunny. She thought he was perfect. But over the three year period that she owned him, the horse developed some bad habits. He kicked her daughter. He kicked her farrier. He tried to kick a friend that was tacking him up for a ride. He wasn’t always easy to load in the trailer any more. He didn’t behave very well (gate sour) in the arena, though he was still reliable on the trails. Etc, etc, etc.

            Eventually she decided to sell him. At the time, I was looking for a replacement/backup for my son’s pony, Toby, because Toby’s cancer had reoccurred and I knew the pony’s days might be numbered. (See my post on Toby here.) I remembered Sunny as a really nice little riding horse and went to try him. Well…

            The horse that I tried that day was a far cry from the well broke little gelding I’d seen three years ago. The gal had been riding him English, and all you English riders will probably yell at me, but from my point of view, the owner had taught him to pull relentlessly on the bit (I’m sure you don’t all do this). The horse had always been lazy, but now he felt reluctant, he bulled into the bridle, and he pulled hard toward the gate. The woman assured me I’d like Sunny a lot more on the trail, but I was looking for a riding horse for my son, and Sunny was far too much of a bully in his present form to be any good for a six year old kid. I turned him down.

            But I couldn’t forget the cute little palomino horse. I bought the MUCH better behaved Henry for my son, and we started trail riding together. But my horse, Plumber, let me know he didn’t care to walk down steep hills any more (just like Coal). Plumber was 20, and had been my riding horse for many years—I decided to honor his wishes, and not insist on using him as a trail horse. And I remembered Sunny.

            It was now nine months since I had tried Sunny and rejected him. In the interim the horse had been for sale. Many people had tried him. Nobody bought him. Mark had actually tried him for a client. When Sunny tried to kick Mark as he loaded the horse in the trailer, Mark rejected him, too. “That gal has him completely spoiled,” he said.

            But I wanted a steady trail horse and I believed Sunny was that. I took him on trial. And yes, he had some bad habits. I had to be pretty firm with him. Here is my post about how I retrained Sunny.

            You can see that I had to use some pretty “tough love.” But today Sunny is back to being a reliable riding horse, and is, as everybody agrees, once again a pleasure to be around. I really do love him and I think he is fond of me (see my post, “Love…and an Ordinary Horse”). But if I (or someone equally competent) hadn’t bought him, I have no doubt he would still be “Small Nasty,” as my friend Wally called him. A once nice horse that had been spoiled such that he was a bully. A horse nobody wanted. And I have to admit that I am worried about this happening to Coal.

            Coal and Sunny are, of course, very different personalities. Even so, I can imagine that if Coal’s slight cinchiness intimidated his rider, that behavior might escalate. And it is SO much harder to retrain a horse out of “bullying” behavior than just to not allow it in the first place. And this is the pitfall in selling a horse, even a well trained horse, to anything less than a competent horseman.

            I know, I know, I need to hope/trust it will all go well. And I do. I hope it works out wonderfully. I remember the horses I have sold or placed in good homes, and some of these were not competent horse people, but they are still giving the horses a good life (some of these horses don’t get ridden very often—but I think the horses are happy). I know I am not always the best home for a horse—some horses that I have placed have a much better life than they would have had with me—I really only have time to exercise one horse, and right now Sunny is that horse. But still…I can’t help the nagging worry. I want Coal to have every bit as happy a life as Sunny has today.

            So, anybody have any thoughts on how horses do with less than experienced horse people for owners? I am hoping that we did Coal a favor…what do you think?

            Also, in book news—this is the last week to get my most recent mystery, Barnstorming, as a Kindle edition for $2.99. After Nov 15^th, the publisher will raise the price back to $9.99 or something like that—much higher than it is now. I don’t know if the price will get reduced again, so now is the time to buy this one if you want to read the whole twelve book series on Kindle. Here is the link.

            And on a related note, the first two books in the series, Cutter and Hoofprints, are currently on special for a mere 99 cents each. Click on the titles if you’re interested.

Horse For Sale

                                                by Laura Crum

            I don’t know about you guys, but I hate selling horses. When I was younger, I kind of enjoyed the buying/selling routine, especially buying. Like many people, I suppose, I always hoped that the new horse would be the perfect, special, just-right one. I didn’t mind selling, thinking that I would find a horse I liked better than the one I was letting go. But this all changed as I got older.

            Now I’m far more careful when I buy, knowing that I’ll want to keep the horse forever. And as for selling, why I just don’t. I’m tormented by the thought of the horses I sold when I was younger. Horses that I had trained myself, that I owned for many years in a few cases. I never once sold an old horse that had given me his best years (thank goodness), but I did sell several horses in their prime. And I wonder now if some of them ended up at the killers. I’ll never know. It haunts me.

So, any more I don’t plan to sell horses. The two that we re-homed in recent years both went for free to a very good home who has promised to retire them when their riding years are done. I trust these people and I also keep in touch. I feel fine about these horses. But selling, not so much.

Still, two years ago, when my friend and horse partner Wally bought a black horse that he thought he could use for a backup heel horse, I agreed that we’d sell the horse if he didn’t work out. Wally boards his horses with me, but I couldn’t take Coal, the black horse, at my place, as all my corrals were full. So Wally boarded him with our friend Mark, a young horse trainer/team roper, in exchange for Mark getting to use the horse.

Coal was/is a pretty horse—absolutely solid shiny black, very refined. More refined than I would prefer, actually, he looks more like a TB than a QH. He is taller than I like at 15.2 (I like 14.3 or shorter, thank you very much). Coal was nine when Wally bought him and sound and gentle and very smooth gaited—and cheap. I rode him four or five times in the arena and agreed he was a nice riding horse. He had the smoothest trot and lope of any horse I’d ever ridden, I think. He carried himself in a nice frame and was a very polite, obedient horse to ride. I thought that if I lost the use of Sunny or Henry, maybe my son and I could use Coal as our backup. Wally thought he could use Coal if he lost the use of Twister.

So we went along for a couple of years. Mark roped on Coal and trail rode him and mounted lots of people on him and the horse did OK. He didn’t turn out to be a very good heel horse, though, and Wally didn’t like him. This last summer Wally began lobbying to sell Coal, and, of course, I protested. I just don’t like selling horses.

But I had nowhere to put the horse and no time for him. One horse is all I can keep ridden these days. In the end I agreed to take Coal on a trail ride and make up my mind if I really wanted to keep him as a backup for Sunny and Henry. So last weekend I did that. And sadly, he flunked.

We went on a very easy ride, a logging road that winds up from my uncle’s place through the redwood forest to the top of the ridge. Its an up and back. Takes about two hours at an easy place. About five miles total. Its pretty steep in the first mile up the ridge. But good footing.

I had promised to take my son’s friend for a trail ride, so I put the friend on Sunny, my son rode Henry, Wally rode Twister and I rode Coal. Coal was a touch cinchy, which I knew about—no problem, though. He looked at stuff from time to time but for the most part walked with his ears at half mast—very slowly. Now Sunny is not a fast walker, but Sunny, Henry and Twister all outwalked Coal—quite dramatically. Still I wasn’t really bothered. I trotted to catch up and Coal had a lovely trot. Smooth—seemed absolutely even. We made it to the top of the ridge with me thinking the horse was OK. I didn’t love the way he walked so slowly with his ears flopping—both Sunny and Henry, though not fast walkers, walk alertly, with their ears up. Its easy to see that they enjoy trail rides and like looking around as much as I do. Coal, however, gave me no sign that he was enjoying this expedition. And then we started back down the ridge.

Right away Coal’s already slow pace slowed further—to a snail’s pace. He also, rather alarmingly, began taking “bad steps”, where he would suddenly stumble. We fell further and further behind the others. I remembered Mark telling me that Coal was not a good “downhill horse.” Now I could see what he meant.

I didn’t want to hurry Coal, and I could not tell what was causing his problem. So I just asked the others to wait periodically. My horse Sunny also walks (in my eyes) quite slowly downhill, but Sunny was leaving Coal in the dust. I had the sense that Coal was uncomfortable, and he became more so when the hill got steeper. I was uncomfortable riding him. As soon as we got to a level spot I trotted him out and he trotted absolutely even. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn’t an easily detectable lameness. But I knew for sure I wouldn’t be using this horse as my trail horse.

We made it back to the barn in time, and everybody had a lovely ride—except me. I was sad about Coal. I knew I had to tell Wally to go ahead and sell him, and I just HATE selling horses. Coal is in many ways a very nice horse—he’s just not a good trail horse. It would make me feel awful to think that he came to a bad end because I didn’t keep him. (For those who think I’m paranoid here, I have just known too many horses that were sold to a supposed good home that ended up somewhere not good at all.)

But logic prevailed. I told Wally to go ahead and sell Coal. I just asked that he do his best to be sure the horse went to a good home. We agreed that he shouldn’t be sold to be a rope horse or a trail horse, as he clearly wasn’t enthusiastic about these events. And Wally told Mark to find the right sort of a home for the horse (giving our conditions).

Now there’s every possibility this story will have a happy ending. Coal may get a home that is far better than the home I could possibly have given him. And I have to admit, there is no way I want to ride Coal on the trails. But still…I worry. What if? What if years later I realize that poor black horse ended up at the killers, or starved to death. And this happened to some horses I once knew and liked. They didn’t belong to me (like Coal) and they were sold, and I only heard much later what happened to them. It still bothers me.

Any thoughts?

How We Deal With Issues In Our Books, Or Not . . .

The posts on Equestrian Ink over the last week or two have been thought provoking, to say the least. I’ve been thinking about the slaughter issue for quite some time, especially since the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act (H.R. 503/S. 311) was introduced and is making the occasional headline. And this profound topic was going to be a part of my next mystery, although that has changed, but that’s a whole other story.



But research for that book took me to places I didn’t want to go, mainly to a video that I found on the web of a horse being killed in a Mexican slaughterhouse. I have a pretty good imagination, and this was so much worse.

Then, thanks to Laura Crum’s tip, I spent last night reading the Fugly Horse of the Day where I found examples of incredible human stupidity, laziness, and disregard for what is right and moral, as well as some admittedly funny stuff, too.

One reason so many horses end up on a slippery slope that may very well lead to slaughter is that so many humans breed inferior animals with poor conformation and unsuitable temperaments. They don’t properly care for and train the horses they do own, and they don’t take responsibility for them when they can no longer do their job, preferring to have them take their chances at auction where they are at extreme risk.

I owned my first horse until his death at age thirty-one, when I had to put him down because of old injuries and arthritis that anti-inflammatory medicine could no longer touch. He let me know when it was time to let go.

I am sad to say that, after him, I sold three other horses. They were all gorgeous, well trained, and athletic, and perfectly suited for their new owners, but I’ve lost touch with them over the years. And that was a mistake. If I ever purchase another horse, it will be for life.

Anyway, I have very strong feelings about human responsibility in the human-horse equation, and some of my opinions find their way into my mysteries. I don’t preach. After all, I write to entertain, but my character has his own opinions, and it’s only natural that he would consider them as the story plays out.



In DEAD MAN’S TOUCH, Steve gets his first look at the world of horse racing after working exclusively in the hunter/jumper arena. Here’s a short excerpt:

I flipped through my program and matched names to faces. None of the trainers looked younger than forty. Most were much older. One was a woman, and all of them were white. The grooms were easy enough to spot, wearing numbered pennies over tee shirts and jeans. They were a mixed group. Black, white, Hispanic. Old, young. Male, female.

The horses themselves were not what I was accustomed to. Nothing like the fat, glossy horses, essentially expensive pets, that resided at Foxdale. These animals were lean and hard. As I watched the bettors along the rail study the Form, I realized that the horses were viewed simply as a commodity. If they couldn’t earn their keep, they were out.

A signal must have been given, because the trainers legged the jockeys up onto the horses’ backs, then the grooms took them out onto the track.

The grooms peeled off their pennies and dropped them into a plastic bin as they slipped through the barricade. They walked back on the path I’d taken while the trainers went into the grandstand through a side entrance. A guard stood at a podium just inside the doorway, checking passes or ID’s of some sort. I retraced my steps. As I drew level with the barricade, I turned and looked back at the grandstand. A wall of sheer glass reflected a single line of cumulus clouds drifting across the horizon.

I walked back and leaned against the fence next to four of the grooms, three guys and one girl with halters and lead ropes draped over their shoulders.

A distant bell rang. The horses broke from the starting gate and surged forward in a rainbow of color.

Happy reading and riding,
Kit
www.kitehrman.com

The Fate of a Horse

By Laura Crum


As the author of ten mysteries featuring equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy, I’ve done plenty of writing about horses in my life. But until I was invited to participate in this blog by its founders, back in March of this year, I had never written a blog, or, for that matter, read one. So, for the last few months I’ve been reading various “horse blogs”, trying to find out what it is I’m supposed to be doing here, exactly. From what I’ve read so far, there seems to be great variety; some blogs are essentially just personal diaries, others have a particular theme…etc. The most popular one I’ve stumbled upon (judging by the number of comments) is essentially a rant against horses going to slaughter—also addressing the various reasons horses end up going to slaughter, including poor breeding and training practices as well as the basic inhumanity and stupidity of many in the horse industry. Now I agree with this gal’s opinions more often than not, though I’m not nuts about the “diatribe” format. I admit it can be entertaining to read her rants (must be why she gets so many readers). Still, the main point of “Fugly Horse of the Day”, as I see it, is how we as ethical horse owners can do the best for the horses in our care. And one question arises for me over and over again, which I would like to pose to the regulars on "fugly horse" (and anyone else who reads this blog); a question that really bothers me, and I welcome any insights offered
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I’ve owned horses all my life; I’ve trained horses, competed for years, rescued other people’s horses and retired them, retired my old horses…etc. I currently maintain eleven horses, only four of which we ride. One of the main things I have learned, after thirty-five years of owning, riding and training horses, is that if you truly care about the ultimate fate of a horse you have to retain ownership of said horse. And you have to check on the horse regularly if its placed with another caregiver. Even if that caregiver seems absolutely perfect in every way. (I could tell you stories.)

I have never had the experience of a horse that I retained ownership of coming to a bad end, but there were some situations that could have worked out that way if I had not owned the horse and checked on the horse regularly. The only horses I ever owned that may have had a sad fate were those I sold. And I never sold any horse that was not sound and well-trained (within the parameters of that individual—like people, some horses just have easier personalities than others). I have always tried to sell only to people I knew, who I believed were responsible, but the truth is, when you sell a horse you lose control of that horse. If the new owner decides to sell the horse, he/she can do that, and doesn’t need to consult you first (even if they promise you that they will). Once they have a bill of sale and you have the money, they have control of that horse’s fate.

At this point in my life, I’ve pretty much given up selling horses; if I take a horse on I’m responsible for its fate, and I take that seriously. Which is why I have eleven horses, only four of which are our riding horses. The others? Horses I owned who got injured or became lame or just got old and are now happily retired. Two horses that didn’t really fit me and are now being cared for and ridden by others (and are checked on regularly). One horse that I rescued many years ago and had to take away from the home where I placed him (which for many years worked well), when the horse got old enough that he couldn’t keep his weight on and the people who had him were unwilling/unable to fork out the money for the diet of “equine senior delight” that he needed. This horse now lives with my retired horses and is slick and happy. In fact, all my eleven horses are healthy and happy today, within the parameters of who they are.

The horses I feel sad about are the ones I sold. Now, I did not sell these horses when their using days were done. No, the horses I sold were all young, sound, and reasonably well-trained. And when I sold them, I thought I was selling them to good homes. But in some cases (not all) the horse eventually changed hands, and one at least did end up at the livestock auction, as I found out later.

No, this horse did not go to the killer buyers. At least not when I heard of her. Because she was a young, sound, pretty mare, well-bred, with papers, and broke to ride, she got bought by a local horse trader and sold to be a riding horse. He told me about this later (my name was listed on the papers as a previous owner—I was not the breeder), which is how I found out. I have no idea what caused her to end up at the auction in the first place.

To be honest, I’m not sure what I could/should have done differently. Lets face it, I sold these horses for a reason. One and all, they didn’t fit me; they weren’t the ones I wanted to keep and take care of forever. But I did want them to have good homes and I thought I had sold them to such. Thus I no longer sell the ones that don’t fit me; I place them in homes where they fit (and I check on them). But at the time I sold these other horses, I couldn’t afford this luxury.

I still wonder what happened to some of these horses I sold; I have nightmares about them ending up on trucks to the killers. At one time I owned them and was fond of them and agonized over their health and training. I certainly always wanted the best for them. Is the answer that one can never sell a horse? What is the ethical horse owner to do faced with this situation: I bought this horse, he doesn’t fit me, and I don’t really want to be his forever home. I want to give forever homes to horses I truly love and admire (and there are always more of these in the world than I can ever give homes to). It is a tough question, or at least I think so. I wish I knew what the right answer is/was. Thanks for your insights.

Laura Crum

http://www.lauracrum.com/