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It’s OK to Be a Sale Horse

7am: I know they’re going to come through the double doors any minute now, turn on the lights, and start clanking the feed buckets together. I think breakfast is my favorite part of the day. My bucket is blue. I get fed third.

I recognize my favorite person because she smells like coffee and something sweet. She keeps a treat for me in her left pocket. I nicker and toss my head up and down because that’s what gets her attention, it always works.

8am: GRASS! Though, for some reason I go alone. Sometimes I’m sad about it and I pace the fence, but I’ve come to realize it’s not worth worrying about. She tells me she doesn’t want me to get hurt, I don’t know why she focuses on that.

I wish I could stay outside with friends. I’ve told her that.

After turnout, I know we are going to jump in the sand ring. She told me this morning on our walk to the field, and then laughed as if she didn’t believe I was listening.

I was.

Jumping is not my favorite thing to do, but she always tells me I’m a good horse, and she knows I do it for her. If it were up to me, I’d choose a different job.

She doesn’t know this, but I was listening when she told someone that I am a sale horse. I didn’t quite understand, when she told me I was meant for great things, when she told me I would be leaving…but I was listening. Maybe that’s why there are new people with new saddles.

I feel her sadness as she wraps her arms around my neck. This feels like the beginning of an end. I don’t understand why she wants to say goodbye. I’m a good horse…

5pm: Someone new picked me up in a trailer with a ramp I didn’t recognize. I’m nervous and a little bit scared. The trip feels long and the hay is different. We finally stopped at a small farm with white fencing and a small wooden barn. Horses nickered as a strange woman led me off the trailer to a large field. Immediately I was greeted by three horses… I have friends!

They told me they love me already. They told me my job is going to change…

Now I understand the words, sale horse. It didn’t mean I wasn’t good enough. It meant she listened. I guess sometimes, It’s okay to be a sale horse.


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