My first dreamhorse was anything with 4 legs, a mane and tail. However, once I was old enough to learn that there were different types of horses, I fell in love with the Morgan horse. I wanted one for so very long, a black one to be specific. We moved from Florida to AZ and sold my large pony palomino tobiano grade mare. She had been the light of my life and I was so heartbroken to see her go.

One day my mother and I were browsing through the feed store (like we frequently did on an early Saturday morning) when she found a piece of paper thumbtacked to the bulletin board. "For Sale Black Morgan Gelding. Please cal xxx-xxxx" is what it said. The paper was a bit weathered and yellowed, so I doubted the horse was still available. I mean, how could it be? We got home and my mother called the woman (cell-phones had not even been invented yet! lol). Surprisingly, the gelding was still for sale. The woman told us that he was a 22 yr old Morgan and his name was George. He was jet black with not a speck of white on him.

We went and looked at George the following day. He was over weight and swaybacked, but still full of fire. I rode him with my parents holding onto George's bridle, one on either side. George wanted to go! After about 10 minutes though, he settled in. My dad thought he was too much horse for me, but I was in love and just knew George was mine. The woman ended up giving George to us on the condition that, when we no longer wanted him, he was returned to her. We happily agreed, and George came home.

He was an amazing horse who had learned many tricks through his long life. His favorite trick was grabbing the shank so his rider had no control. Everyone told me that I, at the ripe old age of 10, was NOT going to be able to break him of this habit. But, about 6 weeks after I started riding George, he quit doing it. Every now and then, when he was excited, George would grab the shank. All I had to say was "Drop it!" in a firm voice and he would.

He was such an amazing horse and there has never been another like him. He had a lot of energy but there was not a mean bone in his body. I could put young kids on him and push, pull, yell, or smack him with a crop and he would refuse to go faster than a walk. He was the best babysitter ever! He is the ONLY horse I would ever say was truly bombproof. Even if he did spook, he would spook in place by just tensing up, then blowing out through his nose and that was the end of it.

I had George for about 3 years and was ready to move onto a younger horse. We couldn't afford two horses, so we returned George to his previous owner (who we had actually lost touch with and just by chance ended up at the same boarding stable about two years after we lost touch). So, when we told her it was time for George to return, she happily took him back and placed him with a friend who had some acreage. George lived out his days for another eight years or so before succumbing to old age.

I don't have any pictures of George, but he was a VERY old fashioned Morgan. None of these half Arab, half Saddlebred things. He was Morgan through and through. There was NO mistaking it. He looked very similar to this:
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Now, my dreamhorse is this
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And I am soooo happy to say that she is mine!

"Unscientific studies of FiSH forum prove uncategorically that any thread may soon take a hard left into bashing, questioning, defending, linking to previous posts, and arguing; however, said thread will, by page 20, degenerate into massive overdoses of cuteness, love and noms. WIN." -- Lsrd1