My ladies have promised that I shall never be sold, and so I
have nothing to fear; and here my story ends. My troubles
are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite
awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick,
standing with my old friends under the apple-trees.
from Black Beauty

Regal Destroyer, Puppy, was my 17.2 hand dark bay Thoroughbred gelding. He was born on March 20, 1983 to Devil Destroyer, and sired by Regal Embrace, a grandson of Northern Dancer. Puppy raced until he was 5 years old in upstate New York. He also competed in 4 foot jumpers, 2nd level dressage, equitation, pleasure, combined training, and hunter paces.

In December 2001, Puppy developed a severe case of degenerative arthritis. He was sadly put to sleep on February 16, 2002. He is greatly missed, but his suffering is finally over. Puppy is now reunited with his beloved Jazebaal. Thank you for your prayers and support.

Before I Ever Met You (Dedicated to Puppy)

I was eight years old, when I first fit my black boot
into a stirrup, covered in crusty earth, gently lifting myself
onto a smooth back of dark bay. I would have felt safer
sleeping there these twenty years, than in my queen size bed,
surrounded by soft feather pillows and blankets. But it was
not your back that I felt moving beneath my short legs.
He was much smaller than you, with gray hairs lining his
soft muzzle, and he could never nearly keep your pace.
You were only five years old, racing on seedy tracks,
brimming with gamblers, near New York's finger lakes.
I would have loved to be your jockey then, your long, black
mane trailing in my eyes, as we broke from the rusted steel
gate, just you and I, determined to run the fastest. We would
have been the strongest pair to ever cross the red wire,
even if we weren't quite fast enough to show or place.

I wrote to Santa Claus for you each Christmas before the last.
Somehow that extra chocolate chip cookie couldn't speed up
your arrival. Still, I waited, knowing you were mine before I
ever saw your face. I sometimes gave up riding, just thought my
time was better spent, than searching familiar faces for someone
I could not know yet. Those days when you were jumping four foot
courses, so sure that no one loved you, but you couldn't be more
wrong. You dazzled crowds wherever you went, clearing courses
broad and high, even if your owners never saw you
as their prize.

Then you were a school horse; I was a nervous pair of hands,
Clinging to your bay neck, fingers woven tightly through your hair.
We won our share of ribbons, one impressive blue, many green
and pink ones, my fault, since you always knew, just how to win
the judges with that perfect canter stride. You could have been a
cutout drawing in all the riding books I bought.

Sometimes, you baby me too much, when you should just throw
me down. Sometimes, I catch you smiling, as you shove bran
morsels in your mouth. I could not have asked for better. The
other girls can keep their cars, while we'll just go on riding,
a single pulse, joined since the start...