this afternoon an era ended for the GoodinParts family as I exchanged a horse passport for a moderately large cheque, and handed the delightful Dales cross Trufflehunter on to an excited 10 year old, her Mum and the all-important small sister.
It's a move that makes perfect sense. Hattie Gandhi is simply not around enough to justify a horse, and the Duffelpud's weekends are increasingly full of other things, even without the little matter of our having no idea where we might be living this time next year...So, when the dream family appeared, living right next door to his current yard, and asked if we might want to sell, how could we say no? They really are the best possible home, - since there's every chance that if M grows out of him (unlikely), or loses interest (no, I never thought it would happen either), her 4 year old sister will take over,- and their mum plans to ride and enjoy him too.
It might, in other words, be that desiderata a home for life.
Could not be better.
What's more it's October...
Evenings drawing in. Mist and mizzle.The joy of early mornings removing freezing mud from hooves before anyone can even think of riding out. I ought to be dancing the can-can all round Privet Drive.
But horses and ponies have been part of our family one way and another for all the past decade. Add to that my own unfulfilled childhood dreams, and you've got a pretty large chunk of my life in which things equine have been highly significant.
Now it's over. Just. Like. That.
So, here, for old time's sake, is the horse and his boy.
We did have fun.