The history we know starts when Misty, a grey Arab mare, was about 7 years old. Someone saw her at the auction and bought her, literally off the truck. He gave her to his daughter, who had her for 5 years, used her for trail riding. Preparing for a move, she sold Misty to me and we moved her to a friends place. Misty spent the next 15 years being patient with a senior novice rider. She seemed to enjoy children and gave “pony rides” without complaint, stood still for the hugs after the ride, on any body part a young child could reach. The mother of a neighbor brought her mother (in her late nineties) over to “pet the horse”. Grandma did so, then agreed to mount. When the ride was over, she gleefully announced that she had ridden camels and elephants, but never a horse. Misty was a lifelong dream for me (first voiced in a letter to Santa when I was 6 years old). She was special.