Atstan Impressario

An Angelo Arab, you had immense spirit dappled grey with a huge leap over fences. Your stable name was Tom, pedigree name too much of a mouthful for every day use. In your stable you were a terror to my grooms pulling faces and hunching up your back as if to bite or even kick. It was all show you just wanted to be left alone, a true one person horse. No other could ride you as you would buck and buck even going down and rolling to get rid of other riders. Shoes could be a challenge as you would snatch feet away or refuse to lift them up, only one blacksmith did you tolerate. Yet to me and my mother you were so sweet, nickering a welcome when you saw either of us coming. You floated over fences winning us many rosettes when turned out you would race down the jumping lane. With Sheroake at your heels laughing with glee you would go up and down time and again. Then take delight in having a long dusty roll finally settling down to graze the sweet grass. Fast as a flash, the clock never a challenge perfect rounds nearly every single time. In one year you went from grade C to grade A barely 14:3 hands tall yet heart of a giant. You always held a special place in my heart many the hours we spent together out riding or practicing in the paddock, at dressage you were a real ace act graceful as a swan. Tom sweet Tom how I loved you maybe the more as only I alone on your back you would tolerate your love made me feel so proud Great spirit horse long may you race the clouds where you now dwell If I close my eyes I can still hear the thundering of hooves flying by. Never again was there a horse quite like you. I remember your neat little ears flickering back and forth as I spoke to you, with a nicker you would answer me and toss your head.