S was told about Dusty by the daughter of a friend of hers. The girl, K, was working at an Appaloosa show barn in Virginia as an apprentice trainer. K had worked with Dusty and liked him, and knew he was for sale.
This was Dusty with his former owner, before S:
S was desperate for a "winning" horse, and all she heard about Dusty made her think this was the horse for her. She was very excited about seeing him, and she and her husband drove down to Virginia - a huge thing, she *hates* to travel.
She didn't expect his color.
Dusty is not the flashiest of Palominos. He's sort of beige. In the winter, he's a uniform beige, mane, tail and coat; in the summer he gets a bit of a pink gold tinge to him so his mane and tail stand out a bit more.
S almost didn't buy Dusty because of his color. It was Virginia and hot, and his coat was almost completely bleached out from the sun. He didn't look like anything special, and certainly not like something that would catch a judge's eye.
But then she rode him.
Dusty *floated*. He was Western Pleasure trained, but this was 1990 so he didn't move in the abominable broken-legged-spider gaits that became "standard" a few years later. His poll was level, his nose wasn't dragging on the ground; he naturally collected and he just always looked happy: ears forward, long tail wagging. His tail dragged on the ground back then.
He was the "push-button" horse she'd always dreamt about. She even took him out of the indoor ring and out for a trail ride; he was willing and happy. She found out later that no one had ever ridden him for a trail ride around the property before.
He was even then a very sweet guy, and they used him as "Uncle Dusty" for the newly weaned babies. He'd take care of them but not take any guff from any of them. He helped them cope with being separated from their mommies and then, without hurting them, taught them the rules of the herd.
He was sweet, but he was reserved, aloof. S didn't want a personality though, she wanted "fresh blood", a horse she could show up with at the shows and knock their socks off.
So Dusty came home to Massachusetts.
I met him soon afterwards. I wasn't impressed at first: he was skinny and small and built like a thoroughbred and didn't look as flashy and chunky as her other Palomino had been, Mister Bid Hancock. I was shocked that she'd sell Bid (to a trail riding owner who absolutely loved him, so he ended up finding his niche) in order to buy *this* horse.
And Dusty was so tuned out - he seemed to not want any attention, Even more shocking to me: he apparently had never seen a carrot. Or an apple. Or any kind of treat.
Well, this was totally unnatural.
I had my Bonnie Scamp (I'd bought her) to give treats to, but I felt awful for this little beige guy who didn't even know he was missing an experience other horses completely prostitute themselves for. I'd offer him carrots; he'd sniff a bit suspiciously, and turn his head away. S and I would laugh about how this horse didn't have a clue what they were, and she'd say (though not completely joking) "don't you go teaching him about treats! I want my toy horse to stay a toy!"
I didn't give up though - carrots are a God-given right for horses, a reward for having to do what we tell them. One day he gingerly took a bit in his mouth and crunched. His big golden-brown eyes lit up.
I'd turned him to the Dark Side.
More about Dusty in the next posting.
Dusty on his 25th birthday, this past April. Some friends from work came out to help us celebrate with carrots and apples. Dusty's pal Pongo helped Dusty celebrate, too.
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