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         Sugar--it’s a good name, but it’s not the best name to describe my personality.  I was thinking maybe Sugar and Spice with emphasis on Spice.  I’m a hot ticket and proud of it.


My life did not have a storybook beginning.  I was sent to the slaughter house before I was even born.  Mom was the only horse mixed in with many hundreds of cows. I can’t imagine what horrible crime she committed to be sentenced to die.  Lucky for us, it was a family owned facility.  One of the children spotted mom and begged that her life be spared. That child didn’t save only one life, but two, mom’s and mine.

The next few years are kind of a blur, but I know that whatever happened caused me to develop what’s known as a hard mouth.  Imagine a registered ½ Arab with a hard mouth.     


Things didn’t improve for some time.  When I was six, my new owner had me boarded out with two of his other horses.  Things got tight financially (you know how that is) and he couldn’t afford the board.  He offered me in lieu of dollars and so Marcia became the proud owner of a little horse with a big attitude.


While I was a boarder at Marcia’s, she’d never ridden me.  Oh boy, was she in for a surprise.  The first time out I rode her right into the side of the barn.  I guess she didn’t realize I was unsteerable and unstoppable.  She didn’t give up though.  Someone had mentioned that I was a good carriage horse and Marcia had just gotten a brand new carriage.  When she was leading me out of the barn, I decided I didn’t want to work that day, so I jumped the fence and ran around for a half hour until she caught me.  Now she knew what she was dealing with.  It took lots of patience, hard work and the right bit, but Marcia and I have come to an understanding.  She understands that I will never be a beginner horse and even good riders will sometimes get frustrated with my antics.


Speaking of antics, get this, sometimes when Marcia is in the middle of  a lesson, and I get really bored, I run as fast as I can to the end of the ring and stick my head in the water bucket and blow bubbles.  The kid on my back and the other riders scream, “What is she doing.”  Marcia calmly responds, “She’s trying to commit suicide” and everybody laughs hysterically.  I think it’s funny too.  That’s what I mean when I say Marcia understands me.  She also knows how smart I am.  She realizes I’m just trying to end the lesson early.  Some of the kids really like to ride me.  When Kendall rides me, she seems to enjoy it, but I’ve seen her roll her eyes when I really misbehave.


I would rather pull a carriage any day.  At the Special Olympics World Games in Connecticut in 1995, my name was picked for a young girl who lived in Nevada.  She was so excited when we won a bronze medal.  That was fourteen years ago and the young girl, who is now a young woman, still writes to Marcia to ask how I’m doing.  I love that!


Generally I’m not a name dropper, but I once pulled a carriage driven by Marcia with Arlen Spector, U.S. Senator from Pennsylvania, as a passenger.  On the way around the ring, we waved to Richard Nixon.  I remember Senator Spector asking Marcia if she knew how to drive the carriage (I think he was nervous), and she said “Don’t worry, Sugar will take care of you.”  That could have gone either way, but I chose to behave.


I’m thirty-six, so Marcia and I have been together for thirty years.  I came from a slaughter house to a place where I have good friends who appreciate my sugar and spice personality.  What could be better than that?



Thanks for Reading my Story!!!