I almost deleted the email. Something about it caught my attention before I deleted it. Thank goodness. Perhaps we should not be so fast on the draw to delete. But that is another story.
“He served us and many others including my daughter, grandchildren and a number of our younger 4H’ers. He was a real baby sitter and won numerous classes (western, hunt seat, saddle seat, native costume, and contest) in 4H and even class A Arabian shows.”
The email went on to tell me about a horse we had sold this family close to 30 years ago. I showed this horse’s father, his sire, for years. We bred him once and had this baby in our own barn. We named him CL Masada Prince. The CL was for Candy Lane Acres, which is what we called our ten little acres of house and barn. The Masada was for THE MASADA, the mountain in Israel where brave men, women and children made a stand to die free rather than live as slaves. And the prince, I guess we just thought it sounded good.
When CL Masada Prince was born he was the perfect little foal. We nicknamed him Munch because he liked to Munch on anything he could get his “gums on”. Everything about him was perfect and perfectly fit. His ears were a perfect size, his neck, his legs, the length of his back, his head, everything. Except that after his first year, he just didn’t grow much. And his second year, he grew even less. So he was this perfectly formed handsome, handsome horse except for one thing, he did not grow.
I was full grown so I needed a full grown horse. So our first and only attempt at breeding ending in what seemed like disappointment. In about his third year we sold him to a family we knew so that he could become a 4H horse, a horse for kids to learn to ride and to show. Our worlds went separate ways and I didn’t hear about Munch again.
Until this email came this morning. I called the number in the email. Munch had the same home for close to 30 years. He helped many kids learn to ride and love horses as he became known as “the babysitter”. He even won, which is nice, but I believe not what he was put on this earth to do. To love is a great gift. To love an animal is not a gift everyone possesses. To be accomplished at something is a gift. Horses can teach kids about self-esteem, about hard work and winning and losing and loving.
I used to say that Munch would have been perfect IF, if he was bigger. But now, 32 years later, I get it. He was perfect for the job he was put on this earth to do. If he had been bigger, he would not have helped kids and grandkids and neighbor kids, and underprivileged kids, learn about themselves. I went to his Facebook page to read comments after he had crossed Rainbow Bridge. Truly I don’t think I will get as many or as touching comments as Munch received.
In his death, although he lived to be a wise old man, he taught me yet one more lesson. Who are we to decide what is perfect?