.....the honeymoon period

So there I was, with an as yet undiscovered certifiable thoroughbred, standing at the gate of his new field (courtesy of my never before generous father). The thankfully short walk from old home to new had been interrupted several times by the fact he was so foot sore he could barely comprehend taking another step. He'll be fine with shoes on, right? Mint flavoured equine treats helped in the persuasion tactics. So off he went into his new home. I would like to say he strolled, or better meandered casually into his new home. However missiled (not strictly in the dictionary, but applicable here) would be more apt. He spent the next 24 hours pacing like a caged tiger to the point where there was (and still is) a bald path along the perimeter fencing. Now to many this would be a first indication that something was slightly amiss temperament wise, but I was smitten. I checked him 15 times in the space of 24 hours. Quite what I thought he would get up to in a square field with nothing more sinister than a rubber waterbucket for him to injure himself on I'm not quite sure. It took him around 3 days to stop cantering round, he played it cool after that and kept it to a manic trotting with the occasional burst of speed. A few weeks passed without incident and we got to know each other, me lovingly grooming him, him stamping his feet with impatience at the interruption to his pacing regime. He is the only horse I know that can live in a 3 acre field with previously untouched mid-summer grass and blazing sunshine, and lose 30 kilos with his own rigorously enforced exercise program. On the whole though, I was happy with my purchase and after initial scepticism on his part we stumbled into a steady routine with few demands on either of us.