He is a great big dork sometimes. (Okay, most of the time.)
He is always a trouble-maker and the root cause of great mischief.
He is an eater of anything that doesn't eat him first. He's the horse you have to keep the pastures poisonous-plant free for. He will eat it, even if it tastes nasty.
He eats John Deere seats and gnaws on steering wheels.
He dribbles his meals down my arm every day. I own no barn coats without Gabe slobber and bits of grain stuck to the sleeve.
He steals tools and has been known to run off with drills. He does not make sinking a post into concrete perfectly perpendicular to the ground an easy task.
He is sneaky and wily, especially when he's playing face wars with Chief. Or when he thinks I'm not giving him enough attention.
He is certainly forgetful. Whether that is on purpose, in defiance or merely a result of his Thoroughbred brain, I don't know, but sometimes, halt and stand still is a complete mystery to him.
He is playful and curious.
He is wonderful and fun and gorgeous and the horse of a lifetime.
He is my buddy, my secret-keeper, my tear-absorber and my psychologist.
He makes me forget every worry in the world and laugh at the wind.
And it's good to know the trailer training he received as a racehorse stuck in his brain.
Because I now have one parked in my driveway and I'm more thrilled than I can ever fully express.
Oh, the places we will go!