The story...
As a child I never had my own pony, I worked at the stables every weekend and school holidays. Like many I have fantastic memories of my younger years with horses, spending time with that favourite pony...
Mine was Malibu, he was the very best! 12.2hh bay, he was stubborn, hard to catch, and kicked but I loved him with all my heart. I grew carrots in my garden just for him, saved up my pocket money to buy him his own headcollar and numnah, and would always nag mum to take me to see him after school.
I was forced to leave him,after being bullied and humiliated. I remember our last day together I cried and cried into his mane. I told him that this was not good bye and promised we’d be together again.
A year later he was sold! I have been trying to trace him ever since. I wonder every day what has happened to him, and I am determined to find him.
Now I'm an adult and the whole idea seems crazy: 1 in 1 million horses in the UK if he’s even still with us. WHAT'S THE POINT??? BECAUSE IT'S MY DREAM!
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