Happy Birthday Fritz!

On Sunday, April 8th, my horse Fritz turned thirty years old.  I bought him when he was seven, and for twenty-three years he's been my best buddy. 

For a girl who grew up sighing over The Black Stallion stories about a fiery Arabian, a 14.2-hand Quarter Horse should not have looked like a dream come true.  Stocky and short (anything under 14.2 hands is technically a pony), he wasn't exactly the magnificent steed of my dreams.  As it turned out, he was better - sweet and steady, gentle with small children, and tolerant with inexperienced riders.  Both my daughters (who later owned more flashy Arabians) learned to ride on Fritz.  They love him still. 

Thirty is old for a horse.  This is Fritz today, less muscular than his younger self, slower and less limber, and still working on shedding out his shaggy winter coat.  But when I look at him I see the sleek, handsome horse I bought twenty-three years ago.

 Happy Birthday, Fritz!