She was a little girl’s dream horse—a deep golden palomino with three white socks, a diamond star on her forehead, a white strip streaming like a comet tail down her delicate face. Her mane and tail were silky white. She was so perfect—she looked like a Barbie Doll horse.

She loved to be groomed and petted and fussed over. She loved to compete in horse shows, where she always tried to be perfect—and almost always was. She practiced and trained at home and performed just that way when at shows—relaxed and confident, not a bundle of nerves (like I sometimes was).

Yep, that was my darling Lady Diamond Cut. I wasn’t a little girl anymore but I felt like one whenever I spent time with her. Which was almost always.

One day at a show I discovered something very endearing about Lady.

That day, the officials changed the order in which they announced awards. Instead of starting with first place they started with the lower-place ribbons.

Lady and I were lined up with the other riders at the end of our first class. The announcer began to call out the placings—eighth, seventh, sixth. Smiling contestants rode their horses forward and accepted their ribbons.

About the time fifth place was announced, I noticed that Lady had been watching each of the horses and riders called forward, then swinging her head left and right, considering each of the horses remaining in the line-up.

At fourth place she moved a hoof restlessly, then stomped. So unlike her to do so.

I leaned forward and stroked her neck. “What’s up, Lady?”

She blew air out of her nostrils forcefully when the next rider was called forward.

Then I knew what was up.

Used to being called out first or second, Lady couldn’t understand why she was still in the line-up. When we were finally called forward to accept our first place prize and blue ribbon, she eagerly stepped forward.

Could Lady tell the difference in the color of the ribbons? I don’t know. But she sure understood what it meant when we were awarded a prize. As the day progressed Lady stood quiet and confidently in the line-up until they announced us in the higher places.

This story may seem fanciful but I assure you it’s true. There’s so much about our wonderful horses, their thoughts and their feelings and more, that we can learn about and appreciate.

Even though I’ve had some of my horses for more than fifteen years, I have no doubt they are wondering how much longer it will take for me to really know them.