I had a book when I was a young girl, twelve or so. It was called “Thundering Hooves.” It was about a girl who loved horses. She lived on a farm with her mom, dad and brother. She had had a young horse who threw her dad, who broke his arm, lost his job and subsequently, she was forbidden from having another horse. Her neighbor gets a new horse, an Arabian, and our heroine falls in love with it. She gentles the horse, who had been traumatized by harsh treatment. Her neighbor then sells the horse to the rich snotty girl, who is completely inept when it comes to handling the spirited horse. The heroine goes through a number of schemes trying to raise the money in order to buy the horse but things always seem to fall apart. But when the spirited horse freaks out during a parade, the rich girl is more than willing to trade our heroine her spirited but uncontrollable horse for the heroine’s more docile horse. Everyone’s happy.
Except me. Because this book doesn’t exist. Yeah, it really doesn’t.
Until today when I realized that the book was titled “Pounding Hooves.” It was written by Dorothy Grundbock Johnston. Right there on Amazon. I’m seriously retarded. I’ve been looking for this book (mostly just because I couldn’t ever find it) and the whole time I was looking for the book by the wrong name. No wonder I couldn’t find it, eh?
Such is life.