Perspective is a funny thing. If you would have told me last year that my champion dressage horse was going to be an equine lawnmower this year, I a) wouldn’t have believed you and b) would have been inconsolable and completely crushed. Instead, here we are, a year later and I am positively THRILLED that my Beau is a happy pasture ornament.
I repeat: Beau is now happily living his best life, with his yak coat in its full fluffy glory, his long mane a far cry from the neatly pulled show horse look and his weight solidly in the “thick” category. The old man doesn’t miss many (any) meals and his new hobbies include feeding the birds (pooping) and landscaping (eating). Seeing him calmly and happily enjoying his new life brings my heart a kind of peace I could not have imagined I would have. I’m thankful that the long road of his recovery has seemingly reached and its end and oddly enough I am thankful for the difficulty of that road.
Had things not gotten as bad as they did, I likely would not have found the peace and gratitude I have now, after 11 months of rehabbing a horse on stall rest. I didn’t know it then, but you know what they say about hindsight… after facing other much worse potential outcomes, I feel nothing but gratitude when I see my heart horse enjoying his retirement. Eleven months of daily trips to the barn so that he could enjoy a few minutes outside of his stall. Eleven months of uncertainty weighing on me, unsure of what his future would look like. Eleven months of hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Eleven months of closing him in his stall every night and knowing he didn’t understand why he couldn’t go outside. That anguish has made me truly grateful for the normalcy and peacefulness of the present. It is such a simple and a profound joy–to pull into the barn driveway and see your beloved friend in the pasture, as happy as could be.
Meanwhile in the pasture next door, Lucy is working on growing up to be a real horse. I don’t yet have the bond and the emotional connection with her like I do with her big brother, but I do believe she’s going to become something special. Each day I work on teaching her “how to horse” and I am so very grateful for the promise of a bright future with her. I don’t expect her to ever fill his shoes (I mean, come on, his feet are huge) but with any luck she’ll grow up to be a good citizen and a horse that allows me continue to compete in the sport I love and take part in the life I am so passionate about. I know that it’ll be a difficult road ahead with her too–raising and training a two-year-old isn’t for the faint of heart either. But I know now that difficult journeys lead to the most rewarding and beautiful destinations. I’m up for the challenge because I know where ever this road takes us, I’m headed in the right direction.
With the difficult journey behind us at long last, I am grateful for the eight seasons I spent competing my heart horse. To me, it feels like it ended too soon but in retrospect–what a career. I am so very grateful to still have this special horse in my life, doing what he’s always done. Some might look at these retirees as senselessly expensive pets, horses who no longer serve a purpose. I realized that not only does this horse still have a purpose, it’s the exact purpose he’s had all along: to bring me joy.
I cannot tell you that these last eleven months have not been a difficult road to travel, but someway somehow I ended up somewhere beautiful.