My Grandfather had a horse called Pinto Pete only he could ride him. Pete had a wall eye, a roman nose, and a nasty temper, nearly killed my cousin and broke my fathers thumb.
My Grand Dad, a very big and strong man, wore a set of black leather gloves, when riding, and every time Pete turned to bite him he hit him right between the eyes with all of his strength.
When Pete saw Grand Pa was going to be the rider he became a lap dog.
Pinto Pete was danged lucky that no one liked horse meat that much, eh? :’)