Addicus did not think this was fair, and neither did I. In the horse world, many people expect horses to do whatever they ask for nothing. The only way to work with Addicus is to be his partner. I told them that he was bigger, stronger, faster, and more clever than they are. I warned everyone never to use a whip on my horse.
He rushed her after a few beatings and pooped her breast implant! Slavery didn’t work for humans, and it won’t work for horses either. The first trainer beat him with whips when I wasn’t around to try and gain his “respect”. Many a trainer met their demise trying to “break” his spirit and make him submit to their will. When Addicus got an idea in his head to do, or not do something, he really stuck to his guns. Whenever anyone was running, he would ditch whomever he was with to go and chase them, and “tag” them… It was very scary for the girls being chased by a giant black dragon horse with no sense of personal space. This became a terror when he grew to 1,600 lbs, being half Perecheron (draft horse). At 13, I had a purely rebellious heart and my motto for my new best friend, and our training sessions, was “Addicus, don’t listen to ANYBODY”, and he doesn’t! We grew up together napping in the pastures, and playing “Tag”. He squealed, turned and kicked me in the chin! I let go of the rope, as he intended for me to, and he galloped away kicking with naughty delight and leaping into the air. I put the halter on his giant head, much too big for his spindly body, and tugged gently on the rope for him to follow me. His giant brown Blinky eyes were trimmed with absurdly long eyelashes, a fortunate genetic mutation that makes him always look like a doll horse. When we arrived, the woman selling him gave me a tiny halter and told me to get to know him while she talked money inside with my parents. We went to see him, and despite every knowledgable horse-person warning my parents against getting a young girl a baby horse, I convinced them that horses were often trained with abusive methods and that I wanted to give just one horse the chance at a perfect horse life. I had seen an ad in the newspaper for a 5 month old colt, all black for $600.
#Eggscellent rascals bio full#
On my 13th birthday, I gave a full poster-board 30 minute presentation to my parents about why I should have a horse, and not just “a horse”, but a BABY horse. My grandmother saw my obsessive love for horses and kindly signed me up for riding lessons at 5 years old, and to my surprise, she even lied and said I was 6 since that was the minimum age requirement. Dainty Rascal is the name of my fashion line, and became my nick name.Įvery Christmas the first thing on my list was “HORSE”, and every year Santa failed me with stuffed, plastic, or tiny ceramic figurines in the likeness of a horse, but never actually a real horse.
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