Quagga Tales
	Many people have stories of growing up with their family pets and growing up on the farm I am not lacking in mine. Some of my memories are more about my antics as a teenager, like when my Shetland pony Jade visited the living room of our home.  Of course, my mom wasn't home at the time and only found at years later after I felt confessing would be safe.  It was into this happy go lucky environment that Quagga came.
Instantly, we were like two peas in a pod.  His personality was one of those traits that Quagga immediately expressed -- he liked antics as much as I did.  The "bucket picture" was snapped during one of our play times.  Quagga waited for the snow to melt on his back, went inside, rolled around in the dirt and reappeared.  I handed him the bucket and walla!  The stud pen has a small hill in it, a good size for a quick sledding trip in the winter.  I don't exactly remember how, but I came off my sled.  As Quagga picked up the bailing twine that I had used as a handle for the sled, the sled moved.  Quagga moved.  The sled moved again.  That was all it took for Quagga to be off and running around his pen, string in his mouth with the sled dangling at his side.  A few minutes passed before he let the string go and allowing the sled to land peacefully in the snow while Quagga ran behind me snorting, just convinced the sled was going to get him. Often, I would bring my snacks out to the barn with me and ever Mr. Curiosity, Quagga would want to sample.  By the end of our first summer with Quagga, he loved chocolate chip cookies and Claussen pickles.  The following year as a two year old, Quagga was sent out for training with Tom Hoyt.  As expected, he was a hit at the show barn; one boarder even bought Quagga his own jar of Claussen pickles.  Under Tom's guidance, Quagga did well in the two-year-old western pleasure classes.  It was on the third day of the Empire Appaloosa Classic and I was packing up, preparing to head home.  As was my style, I had a snack in hand -- a ham sandwich.  Please allow me to specify that this was the last two pieces of bread, the last ham, the last cheese.  Taking one bite of my sandwich, I bent down, picked up his water pail and upon standing up looked at my sandwich -- my bite is not that big.  Looking at Quagga, he looking back at me; ears perked, two dark alert eyes peering out from underneath a long white forelock; chewing.  I looked back at my half eaten sandwich and back at my very alert companion; standing there patiently, perhaps that was a smile I just saw.  Do horses smile?  *shrugs*  Surrendering the remainder of my sandwich, my grumbling stomach and I left Quagga chewing happily, laughing as we went about our way. Time went by and I moved away from the farm and Quagga.  From time to time, as I design this site, I think about my white buddy Q.  The lessons we learned together, the time spent training for the next show, but mostly the times he made me smile.  There are too many of those for me to write here, so I chose to share only a few of my treasured Q memories, though some special moments of a girl and her horse words can never properly express.                                                         Jaime
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