goodbye Fox man

Some of you know already that I was raised in a very small town surrounded by ranches and farms. We didn't really have either but odds and ends of animals here and there for 4-H and a hand full of horses my mom and dad roped on and later on we (me and my sisters) also learned to rope on. All three of us learn to rope on this old man. Foxy was born the same year as my middle sister- I think that was ''83. His mama passed away when he was born so we bottle fed him and he stayed in my Grandma Pattie's lambing shed. From birth he was pretty sure he was our little brother and he was most definitely a person. There were many times that I just knew he was being a stinker and hard headed because he wanted his way and was pretty sure his sisters (us girls) weren't giving him all his needed attention. At one ropin' he was being a HUGE stinker, giving me a really hard time in the box and just down right ornery the whole day - so I went and got on my spurs and I started swattin' him with the end of my rope - hopin' to line him out a little. We did a little better after that but when we got back to the horse trailer to unsaddle, I was walking behind him to put this and that away and he totally kicked me right in the middle of my butt. From that day on I knew he wasn't just the big black horse out back that we roped and goat tied off of - he was for sure serious about this whole I'm a real person thing.



I had quite the connection with all my horses - when I was a junior in High School I quit all my sports and decided to just go home from school every day and ride my horses and do homework. My grades went up and we all did better that year come rodeo season. Whenever anyone would ask me if I had a boyfriend, I would say yeah, 4 - Yellow Horse named... well... "Yeller" I know so creative, a sorrel horse that was about 4 hands high named "Miller" that I goat tied off of, and Foxy, who I headed (team roped) and breakaway (calf roped) off of and that leaves Barchone - our really old blue heeler dog that, as mom called him, the arena director. He would lay in the middle of the arena every day all through practice (And yes, one time Yeller and Jodi did run him over) and I think I probably did once or twice. After I left, Jodi and Casi used Miller and Foxy (we got rid of Yeller - he was a mess :) then one winter night, ole Barchone had to be put down, then one summer day at a junior rodeo Miller died, Foxy lasted the longest of all of them and bless their hearts, Daddy and Mom had to put him down yesterday. We all sure loved him and I am quite positive he had one of the most fabulous lives that a big black horse could have.



He took care of us from this arena to that one, from this hunting trip to that one, on this cattle drive and back to that one. He was always willing to back right back into the ropin' box when all we were doing was coming out and stickin' our loop right back into the dirt over and over and over again. He was always patient and willing to try new things, He was a reliable ropin' horse but everyone knew they could climb on him and run him around the barrels if they had to or they knew they could rely on him to come flamin' out of the box and run down the arena for some kid who needed a hazin' horse. He did it all and was always happy to. He was always a loving shoulder to cry on, he always listened, he was always happy to see us when we came home to visit. We'll miss you old man... we'll love you forever.