When my husband suddenly passed away a couple of years ago my whole life changed. I suddenly had absolutely no interest in doing anything at all. After a lot of effort just putting one day in front of the other, I tried to think of anything at all that I might want to do, some reason to get up in the morning. The only thing I could think of was to own and ride my own horse. I had ridden in my younger years before but never owned my own horse, and I remembered such lovely times riding in the country long ago. So I looked around, I knew I wanted an Arab, and found Sharif. Took him for a spin and he seemed fine, looked adorable, a flea bitten grey, with salt and pepper mane and tail. When I got him home I found out he was a wee bit naughtier than he had been in his old home with his old stable mates.I think those mares were keeping him in line. He was spooky, cinchy, wouldn't tie, positively didn't like saddles and had a few bucks and balks in him. I didn't care, I was getting up every day and I had a mission, getting this guy to come around to my way of thinking. It took a lot longer than I thought it would, and I basically had to learn to ride all over again. It's a lot different when you are older. Anyway we've worked all that out. I probably wouldn't appreciate him the same way if it had been too easy, and I learned a lot in the process. I like that he has a bit of spunk, it keeps me on my toes. I call him Buddy now (I used to nickname him Teflon Don!). We've had great rides up in the hills, it's like a tranquillizer and energizer all in one. For me, a horse was the best medicine for a broken heart.