Doc The cool autumn air whipped through my hair, leaving behind the crisp smell of fall. I was in Branson, Missouri with my family. We were on vacation in “the wild wild west,” as my mom called it. At the time I was five years old and didn't really care for any of it but as soon as I saw him, it was love at first sight. There, standing just ten feet in front of me was Buckshot; a gorgeous paint with big, brown, eyes that shimmered in the setting sun. I slowly walked up to him and stroked his…
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