Personal Narrative: My Scared Horse

She followed me. I never thought she would be capable of trusting people. Faith is my miniature horse. It was my first ever show with her. We entered in a class where the lead rope is loosely tied around the horse’s neck and led to a chair with a carrot on it. The handler picks up the carrot, drops the rope, and runs back through the start. The pony runs behind the handler and everyone is placed based on how fast each pair can complete the run. Just a month earlier, my trainer and barn owner had rescued Faith, and her stablemate from deplorable conditions. Their hooves were severely overgrown and Moonbeam, her elderly counterpart, was very emaciated. Faith is blind in one eye. They had not been properly socialized in years and Faith was scared

She still was not confident in herself and did not trust me. I took her to the wash rack, a two by four running parallel to the ground held up by two metal posts, with mats placed on the ground for the horse to stand on. I lay out my weapons: a sponge, hose, shampoo, conditioner, and a bucket. Faith calmly watched me reach for the hose. I slowly turn it on. She becomes a whirlwind of violent rearing, fire of burning crazy in her eyes. I quickly turn it off and try to comfort her. I let her smell the hose and she does so calmly. She seems to have calmed down I try again, only to produce the same outcome. Instead of repeating my luck, I fill the bucket with water and dip the sponge in. Then starting from her legs, down by her hooves, I sponge her body until she is completely soaked. I remember being frustrated and angry that I was given such a project as my first horse. This was my first time working with untrained horses, and she was beginning to be quite a challenge. 3 years later, I put on my swimsuit and prepare to give Faith a bath. She never has and never will like water. My sister stood back and aimed the hose into the air. She turns it on and Faith fidgets. She sprays only me at