For the Love of Horses

St. George the Dragon Slayer
(aka Georgie Porgie)
Hangin' in our backyard

The horse lover’s gene. In college one of my favorite classes was genetics, and something I’ve always pondered is whether or not certain obsessions were genetically predetermined. If so then I was born with a gene that made me horse crazy. I grew up with two sisters and a brother and we all had different likes and dislikes. My oldest sister liked cars, my brother was into surfing and my middle sister was a book worm. But for me it was horses. And it wasn’t just a simple fondness for horses, I was obsessed with them. I only read books about horses. My room was filled with Breyer horses, stuffed animal horses, glass horses and anything else that resembled a horse. My poor father struggled with the guilt and parental disappointment of never being able to buy me horse. He would always tell me-- I can buy you the horse, I just can’t afford to keep one. Unfortunately our small suburban backyard was not big enough or legally zoned for a horse so I could only dream about owning one. I never took lessons because my mother worried riding horses was too dangerous, so I had to settle for my books and toys. Then when I was a mom and my daughter Nikki was eight, I talked her into taking riding lessons with me. She was not horse obsessed like her crazy mom, but she liked the idea of learning to ride. And she turned out to be a natural. I, on the other hand, was far from it. But it didn’t stop me from eventually buying a horse for myself. In fact, after awhile we had four of them and we even moved to an area that allowed horses so they could live with us. (My husband is wonderful). I’ll never forget the day I called my dad to tell him I’d finally bought a horse. He just laughed and laughed.