His name was Clint. He was between 14 and 15hh, and was a beautiful cherry bay with a black mane and tail, with one white sock on his right hind leg and a white star in the middle of his forehead.
His forelock used to be so long that you couldn't even see the star! But they got his mane pulled so you can see it now.
I loved to groom him. He would never really need it because his coat was always glossy and bright, but I just loved to groom him anyway. It was relaxing and a great way to spend time with my favourite pony. I would used to talk to him and I always felt like he understood. Not that I expected him to talk back though.
When my friend went home before me from helping out at the stables, I would always go to Clint's stable and talk to him and stroke him until my dad arrived to take me home.
When I used to ride him, he would always take care of me. I'm not really the most confident of all riders. He would sometimes be a bit spooky but I didn't mind. I realised he wouldn't be Clint if he didnt spook. He had a lovely trot and a bouncy canter. And he was a great jumper. When I was doing showjumping in my lesson, no-one in my group had managed to get a clear round, and I was really nervous because someone had even fallen off on the course.
But Clint carried me safely around the course, and together, we even managed a clear round! I was so happy and gave Clint a huge pat and hug.
He even won me my very first rosette. I haven't actually entered any competitions yet, but we were just doing a course for fun in my lesson, and we came 3rd! I was never so happy! I always have the rosette by my bed.
Once when someone was jumping on him in a lesson, I was watching. When Clint went over the jump, the rider fell off. The riding instructor asked me to catch Clint. So I went into the indoor arena and walked towards Clint. When he seen me, he just stopped and let me hold his reins. I stroked his neck and talked to him gently.
But a few months later, he died.
I had never been so heartbroken in my life! When my friend and I went to the stables, we noticed he wasn't in his stable, so we checked the other stables to see if he had been moved, but he was nowhere. Then we checked the lessons going on and seen if he was booked in for any in the day, and then the fields. He wasn't there either. I was getting desperate. Clint was my favourite pony and I was so worried that something terrible had happened to him.
We decided to groom a piebald gelding called Seamus. When we had finished, my old riding instructor walked past. She asked me how I was doing in my lessons and I said I was doing fine. I decided to ask her where Clint was because we couldn't find him.
She then told me that he died a few weeks ago. I was so heartbroken, but I vowed not to cry. But I did. He was only 13 years old!
I still miss him so much. I have bought a candle which I call Clint's Candle which I light every night to show I still love him and I will always remember him.
I have made a special speech about Clint:
My instructor will never again say, "Anna, you're riding Clint."
I will never again say to dad, "I'm riding Clint."
I will never again say to my friend, "Lauren, I'm going to groom Clint."
But there is one thing I will always say, no matter what...
"I love you Clint."
Clint died on Monday 25th July 2011. I will always have an hour to remember him each year.
I love you Clint, and I will never, ever forget you! xxxxxxx
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