Posted by Travis on 3/25/2004, 1:18 am Casca came to live with me in 1986. My parents wanted me to be more involved in their horse showing ways when I was around twelve. They owned and breed Arabs the whole time I was growing up and I didn't really want much to do with it. For my tweleth birthday, my parents took me to Arco, Idaho and to Melissa Barter's farm to look at a horse. I had grownup around horse and was really impartial to the idea at the time. They brought out this pretty reddish chestnut. I rode him around and thought it was pretty cool. By the end of the day I was the owner of an Arabian gelding. Little did I know how much that day and how much that horse would impact my life. Casca had been through alot in his 12 year life before he came to live with me. He had been bred in California. He was an colt from a Stallion simply named "Justin" who I believe, and I could be totally wrong with this, was son of Serafix. Casca had been with an abusive trainer early in his young life, which might explained his very good judge of character later on in his life. He was shown halter non stop as a colt and a stallion. With his sick sense of humor and mischevious ways, I imagine he was a handful as a colt. He was gelded when he was three. He had several different owners throughout his life before he became my buddy. He was shown in the Canadian Nationals once. He did well in shows and had became accustomed to the show life. Melissa had used him as lessons horse, she would give kids lessons on him, and he loved kids, which is probably why we got along so well. For the first year, I didn't take him out of our personal pasture and didn't show him. I still wasn't sold on the idea of showing horses. In 1987, my best friend that lived down the street recieved a horse for christmas, from that day on, we were on our horses more than we did anything else. We braved rattlesnakes, thunderstorms, getting lost in the fog, chasing Lt.Gov Risch's cows, getting in trouble for chasing Lt.Gov Risch's cows, be chased by dogs, losing Casca in the desert only to find him about a mile down the street at a dairy farm (he wasn't dumb, he knew where he could get fed at). He also gave the chance for my mom and I to have some special times together out riding. I have so many memories with him, so many stories I could tell, and so many goodtimes with him that I could never repay him. In the spring of 87, my parents talked me into taking him to a small "just for fun" horse show. I had been riding some, practicing riding western, but still wasn't fully sold on the idea of horse shows. I was talked into entering him in the high point competition. This meant I had to show him in halter. Well little did we know that Casca was totally against this. My very first time in the ring and I have this grumpy horse that doesn't want trot into the ring, I basically pulled him with him dragging his feet into the ring. He wouldn't put his ears up to save his life. I have a picture of that first class with him looking pissed as hell, ears pinned, and me and my arm holding the leadline down around my waist trying to show the judge this beautiful horse that would not show. Even the judge got chuckle out of it. We finished second......out of two horses. As soon as we walked out of the ring *boing* up came the ears, and it looked like he was grinning a devious grin, which I'm sure he was. Every halter class we showed in our time together was like that. I tried crumpled up Oreo's in my gloves, sugar donuts in my gloves, grain in my gloves...nothing worked, except for the sound of the gate opening to let us out of the ring. When it came to riding though, he was as competive as me and loved showing off. We went off to finish first four times in that first show. I don't remember if we got the high point for the show, but I loved the feeling of showing him and I also realized it was a great way to meet girls. We did several Class A's in the Treasure Valley and Magic Valley and many, many, many small shows through out his show career with me. Casca was an arrogant horse, he believed that he should finish first every single time. He knew when the annoucer started to name the first place horse, he should start walking to get his first place ribbon, and if he didn't, he would keep trying to move each time they annouced a horse. If for some reason we didn't finish in the top 6, he was usually as upset as me, but that didn't happen much. Many times he was right to move when the first horse was annouced. We won a couple season hi points at the local weekly wedneday night shows. The 1991 Treasure Valley Classic was are best show ever. We won Hi-point Youth, Hi-Point Overall, and Hi-Point Gelding, which is still hanging on the wall in my front room. We could do nothing wrong that show. It will remain one of my proudest moments of my life. I had offers to come train and break horses for other farms and the such, but I basically told them that it wasn't me, it was the horse. He was such the showman. He loved being in front of the crowd, he loved people coming to see him in the stalls, he loved the show life. As I grew older, other things came up in my life, college, girl friends, and a back sugery that pretty much ended my showing for a year, which we really never got back into. I moved from my parents home, to attend school in Utah. I had pictures of him on my walls and missed him greatly. I came home to Boise often and he would be one of the first things I would see. He grew older also. Got a slower, a little more grumpy, but he was always happy to have "his" people around him and "his" mares. He raised hell with the neighborhood peacocks, feed the neighborhood chickens some of his grain, watched after cats in his pasture, sassed the Lakeland terriers my parents had, did all the stuff horses in their old age should do. I moved back to Boise in 99' and lived with my parents again for a year. We didn't ride much, but I would take him out and brush him out while he ate grass in the yard. I had a chance this winter again to move back into my parents for a couple months before moving to Denver. My mom would ask me to go out and feed him, at the time I would complain a bit because it was cold and be snowing/raining, but I would go out there and pet on him. I would have to stand with him because the mare my parents also had would come over and eat his grain. I think this was part of his master plan, if he let the mare eat his grain, we would have to stand with him, and thats what he wanted. I had some fond memories this winter standing with him, petting on him, hugging on him, talking to him....I'd give anything to be able to do it again, no matter how cold, now matter how nasty the weather, I'd give anything. I had a chance to finish school in Denver this spring. I left early on a saturday morning in January. Before I left, I walked into the cold darkness to the arena, and walked up to fence where he was standing. I petted his muzzle, blew into his nostrils and threw my arms around his neck and told him to takecare of himself and turned around to walk back into the house, not knowing this would be the last time I would ever see him. He had been in good shape for a horse his age. A week after I left, my moms mare slipped on some ice and broke her hip and had to be put to sleep. Casca had never been alone in his life. I think being by himself finally made him realize how old he was. He left this world Wednesday afternoon. I recieved the phone call in Denver from my parents this evening and haven't been able to stop crying except when telling my girlfriend stories about him and writing this. He lived a great life. He got apples and carrots weekly and was well taken care of. He had a blanky for the winter and had the finest feed, hay, and vitamins avaible. He got to see my daughter which I will always cherish in my mind and he got to approve of the girl I hopefully will marry one day (I told you he was a great judge of character, and when he was all nuzzled up against her, I knew I brought home the right girl, who cared what my parents would think of her....hehehe) He will be greatly missed. He was truly a specail horse who I will never forget. There is a heaven for horses, and I know he is there right now running with his tail held high and snorting like a mack truck. I want to thank my mom and dad for 1. Bringing him into my life 2. Taking care of him while I was gone and 3. Doing the right thing for him today.....God Bless....and hug your horse today.
67.40.131.115
I'm writing this because I can't cry anymore and its late, can't sleep and I have no one to talk to this late at night. My Arabian gelding of 31 years was put to sleep this afternoon and I'm devastated. This old friend had been with me since he was 12 and was my "babysitter" when I was younger. My parents both worked while I was in Junior High and High School, I would rush home, do my choirs and hop on Casca and head for the desert. I grew up in Boise Idaho and lived right on the edge of the desert and could ride as far as I could go back in those days. He surely kept me out a lot of trouble back in those days.
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