This is a precious picture to me. I don't know how long we had Dixie, but through a great deal of my childhood. She was probably a pretty old horse, saved from the glue factory by my father paying almost nothing for her at the livestock auction. This is how we got all our horses. She was worthless for anything else but carrying a bunch of boys on her back and going up and down the banks of the irrigation ditch with many of her rides sliding down her tail in the process. She was a good old horse.
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Dixie was not that good of an old horse. Though I loved to ride her, when I tried to catch her in the corral, she would pin her ears back and raise her tail and charge at me, and I would run for my life. Plus, because I was so small and weak, she would not take my bridle command to stop and, instead, run away with me as fast as she could run to the barn.
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