His Name Was Indie

After eight long years, this was the straw that finally broke the camels back.

Indie was just shy of 16 hands when I bought him as a three year old. Who was I kidding thinking he'd stay in that size range. No, not Indie. He surpased both his parents and at the ripe old age of 7, my Hanoverian gelding had finally maxed out at 17.2 hands.

It had become a tradition, and a bad one at that, that every year Indie would decided to spook at random objects or sounds and buck me off. I'm a decent rider and all, but let me tell you, there was a lot of muscle in that dressage caboose.

He and I had a love/hate relationship. Indie won me the title of Reserve Champion for Region 2 USDF and even won me a trip to Germany to train at one of their farms (another story for another day).

But on a warm day - April 29, 2013 to be exact, Indie decided I was no longer necessassary as a rider on his back.

I can't tell you much more than that since I remember nothing from that day, only what my parents remember seeing during that fateful ride. I was knocked unconscious as he bucked unrelentlessly, bouncing around in the saddle like a rag doll before even hitting the dirt. I didn't know my name let alone the date, but the hospital sent me home anyway. Apparently, I was a difficult patient. After fourteen weeks of labored breathing due to severely fractured ribs, I knew Indie had to find a new home.

Don't worry, this story has a happy ending. Thankfully, a lovely woman thought him to be her perfect dream horse, and to this day he leads a wonderful life with her in Florida. And I, well I have a fabulous 16.3 hand Hanoverian mare named Bellatrix. She is my dream horse.