This blog post might be a little all over the place. I wanted a place to write down a few memories. Yesterday we lost a very 4-legged member of our family. A member of our family that had been around longer then myself. Bull turn 4 shortly after I was born. My mom rode him through most of her pregnancy with me, so I really did start riding him very early on. Growing up I learned to ride on him and his mom. Most of my more vivid memories of bull are a little later on in my childhood. He was my babysitter growing up. He and my dog, Montanna. Growing up on a farm and homeschooled I remember spending a lot of time in the barn and riding. I was so thrilled when my mom would finally allow me to go ride Bull without direct supervision. I had a very very vivid imagination grow up, and still do. Ride in the arena and out in the fields, Bull and I lived out a lot of what went on in my head. We went on cattle drives across the Montana plains. We competed and won countless competitions, from barrels to jumping. Even though in real life Bull would rather walk through jumps and poles and knock over barrels, (there's a reason one of his many nicknames was Bulldozer). Or we'd just spend our time wandering aimlessly while my brain drifted off to other things. I probably talked to Bull about anything and everything in my life more then most people combined. I had a sense of freedom when I rode Bull and I trusted him with my life. Yes, there were days that his bull headedness drove me insane, days that he would have rather just ate grass then actually go anywhere. But those aren't the days I remember. I didn't realize until yesterday how long it had really been since I'd been on a horse. When I was about 13 I got a filly, I did her ground training and ponied her around on Bull for two years. When I got bucked off of her the first time I tried to ride her I realized just how safe Bull made me feel. To this day I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've ridden her. It was never as fun to me. I didn't enjoy the technical training that my mom does. I was much happier to aimlessly ride around on Bull in my own little world. It's been years since I last rode Bull. As he got older he got stiffer and I decided if it was no longer easy for him, it was no longer fun for me. This past summer was the first time I'd been back on a horse, who just happened to also be a paint. A little paint mare named Penny at the camp I was working at. She too was a horse I felt comfortable and safe on. But no one can replace my big equine brother, the time we spent together or the secrets we shared. You will forever be missed. ❤️
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Tri DouglasAnimal lover, flower enthusiast, nature lover, 4-H leader and Young Living Distributor. Archives
April 2019
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