In the wake of Alana’s death I expected her owners, first-time horse people, would be out of horses forever. To my surprise, I got a call several weeks later asking if I was interested in coming out to look at a horse with them.
We found a nice 16-ish hand, 17-year-old, solid-black mare (official measurements still need to be made. We have been having too much fun doing other things). Her new owner fell in love with this rescue and we brought her the almost one-hundred miles home.
The first order of business was to name her. The old cowboy who sold her called her Black Betty. No one liked the name. While shopping the next day I started keeping a list of names on the lid of a takeout box from my lunch. We came up with Void, Regal, Raven, Onyx, Obsidian and a few other names. Later, when her owners came out to visit her we started talking about names. I ran inside to grab the list and had a moment of panic. Where had I put the list? After a bit of searching I found it in the refrigerator. The list was on a takeout box after all.