Buying a Horse

I found Cherry advertised in a local livestock exchange newspaper that my dad brought home from one of his grape picking trips. No picture, just a short description that outlined the horse. “8 year old Arab-Appy mare, very cute, good on trails, $3500 OBO” or something like that. There were other possible horses listed as well, and I swallowed my fear of calling strangers on the phone and left messages with five horse owners. Only one called me back.

The ad for the Arab-Appy mare neglected to mention the horse’s height, and that was the first thing I asked about. My heart fell when the owner told me she was only 14.2 hands high. At age 12, I was nearly 5’9” and still growing. The horse sounded much too short for me, but I pressed on anyway. I was desperate for a horse, no matter how unsuitable.

We talked for more than an hour on the phone. The owner, Leslie, was a mom with a daughter about my age. She told me that Cherry was her trail horse and she’d been getting into low level endurance on her. The mare had never been lame or sick, she trailered, tied, bathed and stood for the vet. She was an excellent trail horse. Just what I was looking for, I thought.

When I asked Leslie why she was selling the horse, she told me that Cherry was getting to be too much for her to handle, and she didn’t want her daughter to handle her either. That should have been a huge red flag, but I was 12, and my motto was “No throw, we’re good to go!” Basically if the horse didn’t buck me off the second I mounted, it was broke and totally ride-able.

So we arranged a time for me to come out and see Cherry. Leslie was a bit shocked when I told her I needed to ask my dad first. She thought I was at least 16 if not in college. Apparently my phone voice was much more grown up that I was. Between her and my dad, they worked out a time we could come and try out the horse.

A few days later, me, my dad and my best horse-y friend Kate were driving to Lake County. Leslie and her family lived on a few acres on the edge of town and kept their horses on their property.

When we arrived, Leslie and her daughter Robin greeted us at the door. After formal introductions were made, we went to the barn.

Leslie picked up a halter bridle, took the bit attachment off and opened one of the stalls. She brought in a small, spotted and absolutely adorable mare. The horse had the slightly dishy face of an Arab and the intelligent eye of an Appaloosa. Her ears were pricked and she looked at me in an interested but rather detached way. Her mane was so short it stood straight up in a Mohawk, and her ratty tail didn’t even reach her hocks. The lack of mane and tail only added to her cute, baby-like appearance.

We cross tied her in the barn aisle and she stood fairly quietly to be brushed. When we got to saddling, it was obvious that she was very cold backed and girthy. Though she didn’t bite, she pinned her ears and made the ugliest dragon-face I’d ever seen a horse make. Leslie told me she always did that when saddled but was fine once you got on.

What came next should have been another red flag, but in my ignorance I missed it. Generally, you should have the seller put the horse through its paces before you get on. As Leslie was rather afraid of Cherry and didn’t want to ride her, she didn’t do this. We had Kate (a better rider than me) get on first.

Kate walked and trotted Cherry around the tiny area, I can’t remember now if she cantered or not. The arena was more of a large, oval pen actually, but it was the only enclosed place to ride. Cherry more or less did what she was asked, and Kate got off and handed the reins to me. She said that the horse was a bit hard to steer, alternately grabbing the bit and recoiling from its pressure. No matter, she didn’t toss Kate to the ground, so I wasn’t worried.

As soon as I got on, I felt like I didn’t have much control. This didn’t frighten so much as annoy me. Kate was right, the horse didn’t steer well, and seemed very unhappy about any type of contact with her mouth. After a few laps of trot around the arena, Cherry began sticking at the gate. Then, something happened that should have sent me home with a “Good luck selling that thing!”

Cherry refused to pass the gate and reared.

I had never been on a rearing horse and had no clue what was happening. The front end was going up, and I leaned forward and waited for it to go down again. When she came down, she stood very calmly, and the look on everyone’s face was priceless. It was one of “OMG, she reared! Holy shit!” I knew enough to know that rearing was bad, but I didn’t know how bad. So I kicked her forward and made her trot around the arena a few more times.

After the bad steering and the rearing episode, I was ready to call it a day and go home, horseless. Somehow Leslie talked me into taking Cherry out on the trail. I don’t know why I agreed, I didn’t want to die.

Robin got out her own horse, a Quarter Horse gelding, and an arthritic old pony. The pony was feeling good that day, and we set off through the orchard with me on Cherry, Robin on the QH and Kate on the pony. Once we got out of the orchard, we were in the middle of nowhere. It was heaven.

Cherry was much happier now, and I rode with a fairly loose rein as we passed under trees, went down a hill and approached a stream. Looking back, I suspect that Leslie and Robin planned the trail route in advance to show off Cherry’s trail skills. We forded a creek that was at least two feet deep, went through mud and crossed a bridge. It seemed like we covered all types of terrain from hills to flat, rocky to smooth. She did everything without blinking and eye, even reaching down to drink out of the creek.

The final maneuver, if you will, was a trip up “Suicide Hill”, so named due to the steep incline and height of the hill. We trotted to the base, and as soon as the trail started to go up, Cherry took off. As the horse pounded up the hill, I stood in my stirrups, clinging to her sparse mane.

It was like nothing I’d ever done before. The pounding hooves, the flying scenery, leaving Robin and Kate in the dust, it was the biggest rush of my life. When we reached the top Cherry stopped and waited for the others to catch up, calm as could be, blowing hard. I was giddy with excitement. This horse was a blast! Never mind the fact that she just took off without my asking, it was the most fun I'd ever had on a horse.

As we rode back to the barn, Kate suddenly laughed and called out, “Look at her tail!” Turning around, I saw that Cherry’s ratty little tail was stuck straight up in the air like a flag. I’d never seen a horse do that, carry their tail like a happy terrier. It was that moment that I thought, “I want this horse.”

My dad had waited behind at the house with Leslie, and came around while I untacked and fed Cherry a carrot. I don’t know if he worried about me at all when I went off down the trail on the “crazy horse”. It’s hard to tell if my dad worries at all. He’s always so laid back, and has the attitude that if you can get up and walk away, you’re fine.

I can’t remember details after that. There was my happy babbling about how much fun the trail ride was, there were serious discussions over the logistics of purchasing the horse, and there were far more opinions than I wanted to hear from Kate. In the end, we bought Cherry.

We found a vet to come out and do a pre-purchase exam (which she passed with flying colors), and then we haggled over the price. Leslie had been trying to sell Cherry for the better part of a year, and though several people had come out to look at her, none found her satisfactory. She was willing to drop the price for us, partly out of desperation to sell the horse and party b/c she couldn’t believe I still wanted Cherry after the rearing incident. She even threw in some of Cherry’s tack, the halter bridle, a breast collar and a blanket.

We agreed to a price of $2000, including trailering Cherry to her new home at Grizzly Peak Stables. As I sat at the barn waiting for Leslie and Cherry to arrive, I could barely contain my excitement. My friend Kendall was at the barn and waited with me.

We heard Cherry before we saw her. She was kicking the trailer vigorously as Leslie made the final turn down the hill to GPS. That boded well. Cherry was unloaded and immediately began sniffing and snorting at her new surroundings. She wasn’t especially afraid, just jazzed up to be at a new place.

I led her around, showed her off to anyone who was interested, and got a few pictures taken with Leslie before she left.

Cherry was my horse now.