by Eloise Stevenson
Our old boy Othello was a pig hunting horse from Tirau. He was ridden by men and used for carrying pig carcasses out of the deep bush. It is hard to think of his beautiful white coat stained with blood, and the rough handling he could have endured.
I loved him instantly and felt...he was the horse of all my unfulfilled dreams as a little girl. He looks like a fairytale.I am English and had been in New Zealand a few months when I found his advert on the net. My husband Adam and I were just dating, yet he generously gave me $500 towards the blue eyed horse with keen interest. He was intrigued and wanted to learn to ride! We drove to see him on a stunning, scenic, fun and romantic day trip. I tried out 'horse' (the guy laughed when I asked his name) in bare feet and a Western saddle in someone's back garden!! I loved him instantly and felt, although not overly athletic, he was the horse of all my unfulfilled dreams as a little girl. He looks like a fairytale.
Othello has been with us for years now and, for his temperament alone, he is worth his weight in gold. When my daughter moves around him he is so aware of his size, he becomes as gentle as a butterfly.
