adoption claim

Home sure was a long way from here. For one, it is grass my feet are planted on instead of the usual barren cement.

I looked at my (mine! Really, truly mine now!) newly refurbished barn, with a pen enough for two horses attached right at the side of it. Honestly, purchasing this property and taking on the ordeal of improving it enough from its previously shoddy state has been impulsive; just as escape from my boring office life. But, here I am, an owner of a horse barn with no horses in it.

I've been going back and forth between really buying a horse. I saw purchasing a horse as a true commitment and decision for staying up in the mountains. I could have left at any time before or after finishing the barn and cleaning up thr surrounding land. I could have dipped and sold the property at any time. But, I can't go back from buying a horse. A horse has to be cared for diligently, committed to giving the correct feed and care. No way could my home back in the city facilitate a horse, it could barely facilitate a dog. So either I get one and embrace my new start at a farm or I leave and go back to my cushy life in an office.

Although I was still indecisive, I heard there was a horse rehabilitation center nearby, their goal being to rehone horses that were previously surrendered or taken from homes. It couldn't hurt to browse my options honestly.  I have to at least try looking at horses and giving them a chance. That was my entire reason for abandoning my previous life and moving all the way out here to begin with. Horses were worth it.

I got in my truck and put in the location on my GPS with shaky hands. Anticipation drove my fingers to drum against the wheel of my car and cause a little jitter in my foot. I took a breath, in and out. Calm down. I'm not even at the facility yet and I'm feeling excited. I let myself simmer with the feeling a little more, its been a while since I have felt this way after all. There was not much to get excited about in the city other than looking forward to a paycheck. After my nerves have settled, I took the wheel with steadier hands. Time to do this. I have to at least give keeping a horse a chance. What better way to browse for horses than an adoption center!

When I pulled up to the facility, a line full of stalls awaited me, horses aptly situated in each and every one of them. It was late afternoon at this point, but winter has caused it to turn dark sooner than later, so the horses were stalled earlier than usual. The lighting was fittingly warm to fight against the biting cold outside of the facility, hues of orange and red staining the wood and the straw beneath my feet. I took a whiff of horse dung and straw, and as disgusting as it might seem, it smelled familiar, almost cozy. It made me remember why I started loving horses, nights spent mucking the barn I took riding lessons at and days spent running around the same poles. Even the dirt settling into my shoes, as I was not wearing riding boots, felt as familiar as it did annoying.

Although this was an adoption facility mostly focused on Teddy Cobs, a type of pony, there were other ponies and small horse breeds in the stalls, including Shetlands, Halfingers and Norwegian Fjords. The horses paced around in their stall, peeking over every once in a while to look at me passing by their stalls. I have always felt more comfortable with smaller horses due to my own small stature, anything that towers over me is intimidating. A smaller horse always felt more manageable in that sense, literally more on my level and eye to eye.

Since there were so many horses, I couldn't focus on all of them. There were so many more options than I was expecting! From chestnuts to bays to blacks to grays, almost every color seemed to be here; and there seemed to be an even greater plethora of varities in the white markings. I couldn't couldn't the amount of tobianos I have passed in just the first couple of stalls.

But then, despite being overwhelmed by the sheer amount of horses, I saw one I could not resist.

It was a black stallion, his hide slightly faded instead of an intense dark, inky black you would imagine. His white markings were like splotches and cuts, ripping across his body with holes in between to break up the white. All in all, he was stunning.

I read the nameplate plated on his stall. 'Mojito' it read, with a short biography attached to it. Apparently his old owner got too old to care for him, so he was ultimately surrendered to the very facility I am meeting him in right now. His biography also read he was friendly and amiable, but prone to getting spooked easily, especially by loud noises like a tractor engine. He apparently loves sliced apples, but not whole ones. Clearly his biography was written by his old owner, seeing all the details they have left in and how long it was compared to some other horses who were here. The only "con" was that he was an older stallion, 15 years old. It makes sense, as he had a previous owner and I assumed that was why he was here instead of being adopted straight away.

But, an old timer would do good to help me, a total newcomer in this town. Although I wasn't new to horses, I was new to owning a horse and he seemed like a good first pick. Monitor looked at me, seeing as I was lingering near his stall door and came up to me to take a longer look. I stared at him and knew he was the one.