I'm not much for registration papers, but she was registered in the Appaloosa Horse Association.  Sired by a stud named Twister Hand J, who was a halter champion out of California, to my knowledge.  His dam was Dido's Lass, a mare out of Colorado.  Her pedigree was mostly Quarter Horse and she was close enough that Peter McQue (a foundation Quarter Horse stud) was listed on her papers 3 times.  Grandpa had known Coke Roberts, the owner of Peter McQue, I wonder if that's why he chose Lily?  I never asked.

 

When she was 3 years-old, my mom broke her to ride.  I only ever saw Lily BUCK (put her head down between her legs and buck) once, and she did a great job of throwing my mom into the woodpile.

 

We ended up breeding her to a leopard Appy stud.  She had a gorgeous bay colt, who I named Cocoa, but Grandpa named Dandy (to this day he is referred to as Dandy).  How she came up with a dark bay baby, I will never know.  Genetics are such funny things.

 

Shortly thereafter, we moved to Maine and Lily and Dandy had to stay on Grandpa's farm, in Colorado.  When Dandy was 3, a man offered to buy him and I sold him because I didn't know when I would be back for him and he was just sitting there.  Before he was gone, Grandpa bred two mares.  The filly, Spring, went to waste and as far as I know is still sitting in the pasture.  The colt, All Star, was an awesome gelding, but coliced and died around 2000.

 

We moved back when Lily was about 7 years-old.  She was a spaz.  Everyone, except my mom, Grandpa and me were scared of her.  A bunch of people told my mom and Grandpa they shouldn't let me near Lily because they thought she would hurt me.  Thankfully Mom and Grandpa didn't listen. 

 

Lily never would hurt me intentionally, although I came off many times (mostly from laughing so hard that I would fall off at a stand-still).  I was only hurt so badly one time that I had to go to the hospital, but that wasn't Lily's fault, it was mine for not making sure the saddle was tightened.

 

I rode Lily EVERYDAY while I was in 7th, 8th and 9th grade.  I rode so much and so long that Mom finally made a rule that I couldn't ride after dark (for safety reasons...didn't want me getting hit by a car).  Lily was my entertainment, transportation, and bragging rights (boy did she love competition and winning) for those years.

 

In 7th and 8th grade, I was in Little Britches Rodeo.  The first rodeo I was in, in Cedaredge, Colorado, I got nervous and directed Lily to the wrong barrel.  She got to the barrel, got halfway around it, and did a dead stop.  I kicked and kicked, but she wouldn't budge.  Finally they sounded the buzzer, letting me know that my time was up (a very long 60 seconds when you are in front of a large crowd).  I turned her toward the gate and off we went.  She taught me a lesson that day--that she would do what she was supposed to, but I had to do my part.

 

For my 13th birthday, my aunt and uncle bought a breeding contract for a stud named NNS Brightbars K.  I had admired the stud for years.  He was a Medallion Champion, which means that a large percentage of his offspring were champions, but I didn't know that.  I just knew he was a very well put-together animal.  Plus, I'm not one to base a horse on color, but he was gorgeous with his big white blanket on the dark bay background.

 

We tried to time it so that the foal would be born on my birthday.  He set a pattern of not doing what I wanted by being born on the 16th of April, instead of the 5th.  He was a GORGEOUS chestnut, with a giant blanket like his daddy, four white socks and a wide blaze like his mom.  Throw in one blue eye and you had an interesting horse.  I named him 'Lil Heartbreaker K, and called him Heartbrearker (AKA Heart Buddy).

 

When I was in 10th grade, I started team penning.  My friend, Sara, and her horse, Badger, only needed another person on the team because it was required.  We could get our three and pen them on our own.  We penned every weekend that summer and the next, we placed in every competition we were in. 

 

In 1998 I was in California and got to move Lily and Heartbreaker out.  My dad had done a bunch of stuff to help me, so I was paying him back by giving him Heartbreaker.  Damn colt ended up throwing him and seperating his pelvis.  When it was all said and done, Heartbreaker cost Daddy around $100,000 between lost work, medical bills and everything.  Daddy sold Heartbreaker for $500 to some gal that convinced her boyfriend that he should buy him (she thought he was pretty--which he was).  The guy tried to bring him back the next day, but Daddy wouldn't take him because he had told the guy the horse didn't know anything and that was why the guy was trying to return him.  Daddy's friend, Jack, bought him from the guy (I like to think because he knew how much I cared about the horse) even though he didn't need, want or have any use for him.  He sold him to a guy who bought him for his grandson that soon became more interested in girls and pickups.  Last I heard, a lady had bought him and was trying to get his papers so she could ride him in an annual race that required the horse to be registered Appaloosa.

 

I later thought it best if Lily went to a new home because I wasn't riding her.  I donated her to a riding place for handicapped children.  I told them that she was "hyper" and that if she didn't work out, I wanted her back. 

 

I got the call a few weeks later.  Too "high strung" for them.  I took her back, boarding her at their facilities.  I showed up to find her leg all blown up (she'd always been sound and never been hurt before, besides minor scraps).  Turns out that before they decided to call me, they let another girl ride her.  They trimmed her feet from very long then immediately started running her on barrels.  Needless to say, I wasn't happy.  To the end, that leg bothered her and would swell if she was ridden too long.

 

I met Melanie, who was boarding her horse, Danny, there.  Mel's daughters loved Lily, too.  They were the first to ride Lily in a long time.  Everyone had always been scared of her because she moved so fast.  Mel's daughters just thought it was fun.

 

In 2001, I decided if I wanted another baby out of Lily, I better do it.  She was getting a little long in the tooth, but was still in pretty good shape.  I consulted everyone from professionals to Grandpa (who should have been a professional).  Everyone said Lily was as healthy as a...well...horse. 

 

I went through a process, discarding many flyers advertising studs.  I finally found one that I was somewhat interested in and went to look.  When I saw the stud, interacted with him, and was even allowed to ride him, I was sold.  I wanted a baby out of him!  Ima Peppy Chex II and Twister's 'Lil Lass were going to make one helluva baby.

 

Lily was hauled up and bred.  A few weeks later we went to the vet.  Negative pregnancy test.  I was frustrated, but not out.  She went to be bred the next month, after doing everything we could to help her get pregnant.  Few weeks later we headed to the vet again.  Negative again.  I was crushed.  Third times a charm, we took the little hussy back and even would travel up everytime she was too be bred (every other day).  Back to the vet for the pregnancy check.  POSITIVE!!!!  I was ecstatic--bouncing ecstatic.

 

Few months later the scare came.  Something was making Lily not seem pregnant.  Rush to the vet (Daddy happened to be with me for this one) and preg check.  STILL PREGNANT!!!  Off I go, bouncing like Tigger again.  Going to have a July 4th baby.  Start thinking of all the names...

 

In June, I went to Colorado and picked up Grandpa, now 80 years-old, and brought him out to visit and be there when Lily foaled.

 

Thought she was showing pretty good, so we decide to camp out on July 2nd.  Pitch our tent by the stall, grab flashlights, wait for dark, and start giggling.  Movement!  Quick, shine the light!  Oh, she was just walking from one end of the stall to the other.  Switch the light off.  What was that?!  Switch the light on.  Oh, she laid down.  Switch the light off.  What was that?  Switch the light on.  Oh, she sounds miserable!  Is she contracting?  Oh, no, she's just adjusting.  Switch the light off.  What was that?  Oh, she's just adjusting again.  Man, look how big that belly is!  Poor thing, I would groan too.  Switch the light off.  This went on for a week.  In the mornings we had to run shower, go to work, get our daytime stuff done, then at night it was back to camping.  After a week of no sleep, Mel had to call it quits.  We were both dragging and she said she needed a full nights sleep in a comfortable bed. 

 

July 10, 2002, 1:30 a.m.  Signing off the computer, I went to check on Lily one last time before I went to bed.  I looked over the fence, noticing that Lily had her head down.  "What are you eating shavings for?" I asked.  A little head popped up and I asked, "Why are you licking the goat?!"  Then I lost all my marbles and started bouncing.  Running around the fence, through the gate, I saw DG, the goat, laying on the pile of wood and I lost even the dust of the marbles.  I didn't have a flashlight and the back porch light didn't help much, but I looked for everything I could.  Then I ran in the house and grabbed my cell phone.  "Mel, she had a baby, baby, baby!"  Called most everyone I could think of that wouldn't kill me for calling at 1:30 in the morning.  Woke up Grandpa, but he said he would see the baby in the morning.

 

Mel made it over in record time.  We were both bouncing.  Her daughters were bouncing, too.  It was such an exciting time.  We avidly watched as the baby struggled to get up and got its first feeding.  We shined the flashlight from every imaginable angle, trying to determine color, markings and sex.  Seal colored (guerulla), right hind sock, right front cornet, star and a snip.  IT'S A BOY!  Not the guerulla filly with 4 white socks and a wide blaze I had been hoping for, but a healthy baby.  I was happy as peach pie.  Lily, being the good mom, let us in and we petted, stroked and basically guamed over the baby.

 

After all the discussions and brainstorming on names, I ended up simply naming the colt George.  Not Ima 'Lil George; not 'Lil George; not Ima Peppy George.  Just plain George, after Grandpa.  This time the name stuck, Grandpa didn't rename him, although he did think I should name him something else (I can't recall what it was). 

 

It was July, in California, so it was hot.  I talked to my husband about getting a mist system, to help cool the horses, but he said I was spoiling them too much and just wanted to spend money.  I went to work, planning on getting something to cool them down anyway.  I came home to find our frog sprinkler hanging upside down from the stall shelter, spraying a fine mist.  Lily and George were soaking it up.  It's probably the kindest thing I had ever seen my husband do.

 

After Lily had George, she went into full retirement.  She wasn't ridden anymore.  She was content to roam around the pasture and just be pet.  George was weaned around four months because he was getting too rambuncious and it was starting to piss Lily off. 

 

In September 2003 I moved the to Colorado.  By April my marriage was in shambles and I headed back for California.  In May I moved the horses back to California, where Mel now had a boarding facility of her own. 

 

In August, I jumped on Lily and ran a competition pattern that she had never done before.  She breezed through it.  I hadn't been so happy in a long time, it was like coming home.  It was short-lived, though, because she started limping more.  Something had happened in the pasture and her knee was swollen.  After the run, the limp was very pronounced.  That was the last time she was ever ridden.

 

I moved to Washington and on September 20, 2004, I went back down to California, to meet a shipper so he could bring my horses up.  After a photo shoot at Mel's place, we hauled the horses to the vet, reloaded George and my other mare, Skippy, and the hauler headed for Washington.  It had been decided that Lily was in too much pain and that her quality of life was suffering.

 

We took Lily to a back paddock, where we petted and loved on her for a few more minutes.  I sat on her for one last time, turning backwards like I always did to read my book in the corral, and then it was time. 

 

The vet said I could stay, but asked that Mel and the girls move outside the fence.  They asked if I was ready and I said yes.  I LIED!  They put the needle in and I lost it.  Mel came flying back through the gate and grabbed me, holding me while I sobbed.  It hurt so bad.  Before I buried my head in Mel's shoulder, I saw Lily's knees crumple.  That image has stuck with me.  I don't remember much after that, until I heard the vet say, "She's gone" and put her stethoscope back in her pocket.  Then I sat there at Lily's head and just stroked her cheek. 

 

I know she's in a better place and isn't in pain anymore, but I miss her beyond belief.  Even when I wasn't able to ride her, wasn't by her, I knew she was there.  She was my best friend for many years.  She taught me so much.  There will never be another horse like her--so smart, so much heart...so much attitude and so crotchity.  So many good memories.  Damn I miss her.