“When a class is called, the gates swing open, and your granddaughter comes into the ring at a smart trot on a horse that carries three or four generations of your breeding, something hits you. There is a fierce pride, the urge to laugh with joy, panic that something will happen, some disaster in the ring, and a choking feeling that ends only when tears roll down your face. As the little figure posts in rhythm to the trot, you wonder: Where did the years go that brought about this scene? That beautiful, confident little girl on the beautiful floating mare are all a part of you.”

— Jerry Donoghue in his book My Friend the Arabian Horse, from “Wit and Wisdom,” page 94.

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