THIS WAS MY HORSE

This was my horse. His name was Buddy. He was sorrel and had a scraggly flaxen mane and tail. He had the biggest nostrils I have ever seen. He was probably a quarter horse. He was a kid's horse. He was bomb-proof. When I got him he was 8 yrs old. He had been a kid's horse then, too. There wasn't much we could think of, our little gang of riders, that he had not been through already.
There wasn't a mean bone in his big body. He could do rotten things, like step on your sneakered foot and then turn without picking up his shod hoof. He could easily brush two giggling girls off his back by suddenly going under a limb.
He thought nothing of going the other way when he saw me come over the horizon with a halter.

I loved it when he breathed in my face. His breath was sweet smelling. On rainy days I would go out to the barn and lay on his back in the stall and read, and listen to the rain on the roof.
Once coming down an asphalt road in the rain he slipped and went to his knees. I jumped off, thinking he might go clear down, but he stopped, struggled to his feet and glared at me as if he were insulted that I thought he might actually fall with me on his back.

      That's all. I just wanted to introduce you. He was a good and loyal friend.
                           I just thought you should know each other.