Through the Eyes of a Horse

Veronica (C

Veronica Small was a typical child in many ways.  She fought with her siblings, loved her parents, went to school all week and church on Sunday's.  She loved animals and had been promised by her parents that when she was 12 they would find a place where she could take horseback riding lessons because that is what she wanted more than anything, to be able to ride a horse.

Her parents kept their promise and just after her twelfth birthday they found a stable just an hour outside the city that offered beginner riding lessons to horse crazy kids just like she was.  The forty five minute lesson which included learning to brush and tack her very first mount passed by way too soon.  No sooner was she back in the car for the ride home when she began pestering her parents for her next riding lesson.  Soon after they agreed to a series of lessons she dozed off in the back seat, happy and content.

Thankfully she was still asleep when a speeding driver hit their car at seventy miles an hour claiming the lives of both her parents and leaving her, first in a coma but then paralyzed from the waist down.

Netherlands, The Jazz

I am going to let you in on a little secret.  We horses know more than you think we do.  To most we probably look like big dumb hairy animals that are unaware of almost everything around us.  Not true at all. We see, relate to and even manage to understand and sometimes take charge of our environments.  Some of us are afraid, but I have observed many humans to be afraid as well.  The equine species puts up with a lot and rebels far less than we should.  In short, we are worth getting to know.  Join me as I elaborate.

They call me "the Jazz".  That is not my name but my father was named Jazz and he is famous.  Neither I, nor the name I was given is memorable, unless you throw my sires name into the equation, so, I am the Jazz until I can distinguish myself in some way.  It may be hard for me to do that.  I will be the first to admit that I am not overly ambitious and I don't care about people enough to want to exert myself too much pleasing them.  I guess time will tell.  I was born in the Netherlands.  Many great horses have been born there and the people who breed horses in that part of the world are serious about their work.

Since I could move at all I have been looked at and praised for my conformation and my breeding.  My mother was always so proud of me.  She was a dark bay almost black mare, pretty, but with no show record to speak of and so she was bred, at a young age, to the number one Warmblood sire in the world, Jazz.  I was the offspring.  I too am almost black with two matching white socks behind that make my legs look fancy when I move. Even as a youngster I would often choose to stand still rather than move around for no reason and my mother had to nudge and scold me to look lively when people came out to the paddock to inspect us.

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