My new owner was named Mr. Barry.
His doctor had advised him to get more exercise, so he'd decided to try riding.
Mr. Barry was a kind man who wanted to do what was best for me, but he didn't know much about horses.
He rented a stall at a stable near his home and hired a groom to take care of me.
The groom's name was Filcher. He was only a part-time groom.
The rest of the time, he and his wife grew fruits and vegetables and raised poultry and rabbits to sell.
At first I liked Filcher well enough.
He kept my stall clean, groomed me thoroughly, and handled me gently.
But after a while, I noticed my grain meals getting smaller and smaller.
That was strange, because Mr. Barry had ordered lots of good food for me.
The grain shouldn't have run out already!
Filcher always arrived at my stall very early. His little son usually came too.
The boy always had a covered basket with him, which he took into the feed room.
After a few minutes, he'd come out again, call good-bye to his father, and scurry off.
I still had hay to eat, but I missed the grain.
It gave me the energy I needed for my work.
One day Mr. Barry rode me to visit a farmer friend of his.
This farmer had a keen eye for horses.
"Your horse doesn't look as good as when you first brought him, Barry," he said.
"Has he been healthy?"
"I think so." Mr. Barry shrugged.
"I've noticed he isn't as lively as he used to be.
My groom told me horses are always dull and weak in the autumn."
"Nonsense!" the farmer exclaimed.
"With your light work he shouldn't have any trouble at any time of the year.
What do you feed him?"
Mr. Barry told him. The farmer felt me all over.
"I don't know who's eating your grain, Barry, but it isn't your horse," he declared.
"You'd better look into it!"
A few mornings later, Filcher and his son arrived at the stable as usual.
The little boy went into the feed room with his basket.
"A-ha!" a voice cried out.
A police officer marched out of the feed room dragging the boy by the arm.
There was a lot of shouting and some crying, and in the end the truth came out.
Filcher had been sending his son to steal my grain!
They sneaked it home in the basket to feed their rabbits.
Mr. Barry was suspicious after talking with his friend, and had asked the police to look into it.
When he found out what had happened, he fired Filcher immediately.
A few days later, my new groom arrived.
He was a tall, good-looking young man named Alfred Smirk.
Mr. Smirk considered himself very handsome.
He spent lots of time on his hair and clothing and always looked his best.
He liked to make me look my best too.
My mane and tail were always neat and glossy, and my hooves were painted with oil.
That was almost all he did for me though.
Smirk was one of the laziest men I'd ever seen.
He rarely bothered to check my feet or shoes or groom me thoroughly.
He did a sloppy job of cleaning my stall, and it soon began to stink.
"Alfred, the stable smells a bit," Mr. Barry said one day.
"Do you think you should scrub out the stall?"
"Well, sir," Smirk said in his polite and charming way, "I can if you like, but it's dangerous to use water in a horse's stall.
It might cause him to catch a cold."
"Oh!" Mr. Barry said. "Perhaps you'd better not then.
But something should be done about the smell.
Perhaps someone should check the drains."
"Good idea, sir," Smirk agreed.
A man came to check my stall.
He found nothing wrong, and the smell went on as always.
The constant dampness began to make my hooves unhealthy and tender.
Eventually my feet got so bad that I couldn't walk over stones without stumbling.
My master became worried and took me to the farrier.
The farrier took one look at my feet and shook his head.
"Your horse has a disease that is caused by standing in wet, dirty stalls.
I'm surprised your groom didn't notice it before it got this bad!"
Mr. Barry was surprised too—and angry.
He directed the farrier to tend to my feet until I was better and fired Smirk immediately.
But this time he had no intention of finding a new groom.
"Having a horse of my own is too much trouble," he told the farrier.
"I'm going to sell this fellow and hire a horse when I need one."