I have been sick all week, so I haven’t been able to get to the barn and ride (That’s why I have said nothing over the past few days). I also miss Indy.(knowing her, she’s probably stirring up some trouble somewhere or flirting or snuggling up in her stall with her sheep-sheet and her favorite water bucket).

Today I may be able to go after school and ride, or give my little bro a lesson on his favorite pony. I also took a trip to the craft store yesterday and came back with some christmas decorations for her stall! That should be fun! More blogging to come!

Happy Thanksgiving! Since I’m traveling for the holiday through this weekend (I won’t be getting to my computer for the next couple days) I thought I would share the rest of Indy’s post with you. Enjoy!

It wasn’t until after an exhausting lesson one evening that my trainer made the offer to my mom. She agreed to sell Indy to us as well as one of her western saddles that my mom wanted. I had just taken the lesson horse (I can’t remember which one) out to the paddock and a halter was slung over my shoulder. I heard the offer, and then gaped and looked at my mother, then looked at Indy, grazing happily in the distance.

The day before we bought Indy, mama took me to see the symphony orchestra downtown. Being a cello player myself, I enjoyed going out to watch the experienced perform. I dressed up in my favorite heirloom jacket and brought along my favorite horse-printed umbrella, since it was raining. I expected nothing but a nice afternoon at the symphony. We were in the car on the way to the theatre with our tickets when I turned around and noticed that mama had bought a stall toy: a bright green jolly ball attached to a plastic apple stall snack holder. Still expecting nothing, I said “That’s cute. What’s that for?”

That’s when she told me that it was for Indy, our new horse. Against all odds, I was now a horse owner. The next day, we went to the barn and signed the papers.

I was eager to learn more about my new horse. Many people that own retired racehorses have detailed records of their winnings, maybe even pictures of them on the track. I wanted the same for Indy. I researched her pedigree and studied her jockey club papers, and I searched the internet for any information I could possibly get. However, I found nearly nothing about her. She had no picture and her name was not under her sire or dam’s racing profile. All the horses there had made winnings racing. Indy made barely anything, according to her papers. That must have been why she was so hard to find. I couldn’t even find the website of the farm where she was born. The industry that had been her home for the first few short years of her life had absolutely nothing to say for her. They just gave her a ridiculous racehorse name, raced her, and threw her out. And she ended up with me.

They named her Sassy Sheila.  I laugh about it all the time; how it is ridiculous and yet hilarious, like the farm where she was born had cranked out fifty foals in the past month and were running out of names. I wonder what her owner’s words were. “Sassy Sheila? Oh well, sounds good to me. I don’t care if she has a good name, as long as she can run,” or “You decided to call her what!? Oh well, what’s another crappy name when we’ve got fifty other foals at the place.” Oddly enough, however, we tolerate it and even embrace it. Indy’s first leather show halter says Sassy Sheila. If I ever take her to a thoroughbred makeover, I can take the name. I’ll just laugh it off and say, “Watch out, fancy boys, here comes Sassy Sheila.”

The racing industry thought that horses like Indy were useless. But almost every equine professional (The vet, my trainer, the farrier, et cetera) that has met Indy agrees that she is a rare gem of a horse. She is a ballerina, having a fine-boned baby body that is graceful and calm. Unlike other off-track-thoroughbreds she does not bolt or buck. If she feels uncomfortable with something she would rather stop than go faster. She takes care of her rider as if she was a lesson horse. Once we were playing musical stalls and the girl on the huge warmblood steered her horse toward Indy. I did absolutely nothing, but Indy backed herself out of the stall so she could avoid being run into by the warmblood. She wants her rider to be safe and doesn’t hold grudges if you do something wrong.

Of course she has her baby moments: She wiggles and needs improvement in her movement from flaws in her racing days, she has little-girl moments. But that’s because she is still in training. I ride her whenever I can, doing my best to compensate for her and training her. Bethany rides her sometimes. Even under saddle, she is a true gem.

She also happens to be a lovebug and a huge goofball. She loves to put her nose in your face (especially for selfies), meet new people, beat her pasture-mates to the gate, lick her stall-snack (which doesn’t last long), push the other mares around, be silly and dramatic, and sniff things with her soft nose so that she makes an adorable sniffing sound.                

I have a really special and loveable horse. Indy is a character in many ways, and I enjoy being around her whenever I can. She is my friend and my partner in crime. We keep making progress every day. No matter where my equestrian life may lead me in the future, I will never forget the first horse that made a lifelong dream become a reality.

Since my first two rides have been on Indy, I figured I could give you all a little more background on her.

Indy is my first horse. When I came back to Feather Run Farm, she was there. Bethany and Becky bought her off the track when she was three or four, and she was trained for all the time she was there. She started six times racing in Indiana, failing every time. It was evident she did not enjoy racing. I met her in the paddock, and when I walked back down the barn aisle I saw her for sale ad on the bulletin board. I pointed it out to my mom almost sarcastically but somehow feeling like someday it may work. Reasonably, she shrugged it off. I wasn’t surprised, and it didn’t phase me, so I moved on.

Throughout my days of riding back at Feather Run, my confidence turned from down-the-drain to the best it’s ever been. In the process, despite my dreams and whimsies, buying a horse (especially Indy) became completely off the board. And yet, as I went through with my first lease, I talked to my mom and my trainer, spilling my daydreams about owning a horse. I forgot who said it, but one of them said “Who knows. Maybe your horse is on this farm right now.”

Eventually, both myself and my mom were feeling very confident in the saddle. We went online and bought a green rope halter. As she pulled it out of the box, she said that the halter would hang in our house until there was a horse that belonged to us to wear it. I was enthralled and excited beyond belief that we were actually going to buy a horse. But the way she said it hinted that this said horse was going to be far in the future. It was funny that this horse was in the paddock right in my own barn the whole time.

I had wanted a horse for my entire life. Even if I didn’t know, my parents knew when I was small that owning a horse would never happen. None of my parents ride or were involved in the horse business at all, although my mom took lessons as a kid. The next best thing was taking lessons, but that never happened either. I didn’t know why, and I sat, jealous and horseless, until I started taking lessons in sixth grade. The stereotype is that all good riders grew up in the horse business, but I consider myself an exception to that stereotype (but that’s a story for another day).

Back to Indy. It was in January of 2018 when it started becoming a possibility. Defying all odds, mama came to me and said, “Let’s go look at Indy!”

When I met Indy in the paddock again, this time actually convinced that she may be a possibility, I instantly fell in love. She was only five years old, and green as grass. I was still a novice rider. Every reasonable fiber of my being said that buying a green off-track-thoroughbred probably wasn’t the best fit for me, but after touching her sweet nose and her baby silk young-horse coat, all my doubts went instantly down the drain. Indy was perfect.

 (Pictures that we took on that day)

To be Continued…