It’s cute that some people think they have a spirit animal. I never thought I did until I realized that there are a lot of horse themed items in my collections. That’s when I decided to roll with it and declare the horse my spirit animal even though I kinda think the idea choosing your spirit animal is much more New Age-y than I’d ever choose to be.

I became an enthusiastic horse woman at around age ten when I would draw horses constantly. I would squeal when I saw them in the Wisconsin pastures while we were on our family road trips. I had a sizable collection of horse figurines and I subscribed to a magazine that I think was just called Horse Magazine. I had always dreamed of owning one. In sixth grade when they asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said, “Jockey.” My teacher was rather cruel. She burst my bubble by telling me that most jockeys are rather slight and petite and weigh less than I did. (Thanks, Mrs. S!)  I didn’t know much about horse racing, but decided then and there  I’d have to switch to barrel racer rather than derby racer.

Two years later, I met my first boyfriend who lived on a farm near my grandparents’ house. He liked me and he had three horses. He was in 4-H, a youth organization that’s geared to the farm-kid set…you know,  kids who are into agriculture and livestock and other things that are on display at the county fair. If you’re a girl in 4-H you might enter a canning contest at the local fair or perhaps you’d be a barrel racer. (Huzzah!!)

I got it in my head that I should have a horse. Imagine thirteen year-old me begging relentlessly for a horse every single day for the whole month of November in the hopes that my parents would buy one for me for my birthday. I even found the horse I wanted them to buy me. He was a $375 Appaloosa.  Sadly, I can’t remember his name, but I do remember how much I enjoyed my test drive at my boyfriend’s neighbor’s farm. That horse was destined to be mine! Of course, when my parents balked at the idea of buying a horse, I’d reason that I knew just where I would board him (boyfriend’s farm), though I had no concept that it would cost money to do so. Plus it never entered my mind that caring for a horse that lives forty-five miles from home would be nearly impossible. (It wasn’t very hard to have a long distance boyfriend at thirteen. How hard could a horse be?)

You can imagine how I flipped for this  vintage ’50s sweater when it came up last week on eBay. It’s by Helen Bond Carruthers. In my correspondences with friends, I was betting it would hit at least $400. I’m glad I was right about that. I wonder–will I ever be the type of person who’d spend $453 on a sweater? I’d like to think I wouldn’t even if I was of higher economic means. It just seems so difficult to consider.

I would, however, think about putting the money towards barrel racing lessons. Or perhaps a trip to a dude ranch. Or maybe even tuck it away for a time when owning a horse is more likely than it was for me at thirteen.

Tell me, dear pals of mine, what’s your spirit animal and how did you pick that one?