No to the Thursday Bay and Gray

Previously on Saddle Seeks Horse my trainer and I were about to journey south to San Diego County to try out a bay and gray, both 10 year-old Thoroughbred geldings standing 16.2.

The bay is being boarded at the owner’s friend’s house in a very rural area. There were goats in pens lining the dusty arena where we conducted our test rides.

The bay is gorgeous. He looks like a Fred Stone painting or a regal marble sculpture of a horse. The owner hopped aboard and rode him around for about 5 minutes, during which time I thought, “there’s a hunter.” He just flowed on a loose-ish rein. Mesmerizing.

My trainer remarked he looked sticky behind. It was slight and I didn’t see it because I was enthralled with his good looks. He worked out of it a bit and then the owner jumped him over a one foot vertical. (There was only one jump in the arena because it’s a community arena and it seemed like the community was more Western).

As the horse approached the fence he had an alert, gorgeous expression, ears pointed at the fence. Upon landing his demeanor changed to agitation and his ears went back. Every time she popped him over the small fence, the expression changed on landing.

My trainer rode him next and he was not a fan of being ridden a little more on the bit, but he complied. She rode him in circles and figures of eight popped him over the same fence. He had the same gorgeous/alert expression that switched to irritation.

It was my turn and I felt guilty getting on the horse. It was about 97 degrees, he had only been ridden about 3 times in the last month and here I was, the third person on him in the span of 15 minutes. I loved how responsive he was and once I picked up the canter, I could have cantered him all afternoon (not really because it was too hot and I’m not in that awesome of shape), but it was super comfy. I didn’t jump him because I had already seen enough.

“So does he receive any injections?” my trainer asked.

He’s had his hocks, stifles and coffin bones injected.

Hocks, I get. Stifles I’m not sure I’ve heard of. Coffin bone? That was the last nail pounded into the coffin where my hope–that he might be the one–died.

He also had special pads in front and shoes all the way around. Even if he did pass a pre-purchase exam, the thought of the expense for his upkeep was too much.

I knew my decision at that point but I didn’t have the courage to be that up front. I did just email the owner (two days after the fact) .

Hi —-,