He was quite the handsome fellow:  dark, sparkling eyes fringed in long, thick lashes, a fine looking muzzle, a rather strong chest, long, sturdy legs, and matching black mane and tail.  He was a soft, grey color.

And his name was, appropriately enough, "Grayling".

Grayling belonged to the Prescott family of Louisville, Kentucky, where horses reigned supreme.  He was the son of Raging Thunder and Sunnybrook Meadow, who were his parents.  Both were retired champion race horses who now enjoyed a life of leisure in the pasture behind the Prescott family's house.  And now both horses had become parents only six weeks ago when little Grayling entered their world.

The Prescott children, six-year-old Billy and four-year-old Amelia, were too little to ride the parent horses, but were looking forward to riding Grayling.  Grayling would make a fine riding steed, according to their parents, but they would have to wait until he was a little older, not to mention, a little bigger.

That shouldn't be too long from now, for Grayling was growing up quickly.

Billy and Amelia loved horses, as did their parents, who were ranchers. They had all been around horses their entire lives; they were used to all things equine: what made them tick, what their favorite foods (or snacks) were, how to keep them healthy and happy, how to keep them dry or warm when the weather got bad, and how to share their love for horses to others.

Billy and Amelia's mom worked with children who had special needs.  Every Saturday, children who were disabled came to the Prescott family's stable, where Mama Prescott gave free riding lessons; she'd done this now for several years and loved every minute of it.  Papa, meanwhile, took care of the bills and caring for the stable's main operations.  Both were very good at their jobs.

While the children were at school, their parents watched over the horses with great care.  They loved their animals very much, and they were determined to make little Grayling into a wonderful riding companion.  He was the first horse born at the Prescott stables.  Twice before, Sunnybrook Meadow had tried to have foals, but both had been born dead.  The vet said she was unable to have any foals.  The mere fact that Grayling had been born was nothing short of a God-given miracle.

The Prescotts would make sure to give Grayling all the opportunity in the world to grow and thrive.  Whatever they were doing was working because now Grayling was growing up fast and turning into a fine specimen of a young colt: he would probably end up being a champion racehorse, too, just like his parents, or maybe a riding horse for children and adults.