I’ve been pretty quiet over the last month as it’s been a busy time with work, study and everything else in my life. However, there’s been one very special development.

In a week’s time, it will be 2 years since the death of the young horse who led me down this path. That day tore me apart. It also changed me. Traumatic as it was, I insisted on a post-mortem examination. Why?

I needed the answers, but not just for me – I felt I owed it to him. That if I couldn’t save him, I would let him teach me something that would help me save others. The findings confirmed what my gut had been telling me all along. It also confirmed what I had already seen in his eyes and his demeanour. That it was beyond my control, and that letting go was the kindest thing I could do for him.
(I wrote a eulogy for him shortly afterwards, and decided to share it to mark that day a year later, in the hope it might help others facing the same decision.)

When I met Sharon May-Davis a few months later, she told me that we meet horses like these and go on these painful journeys for a reason. And she is so, so right. He is in my mind all the time. The promises I made to him are the driving force behind my work and the motivation to keep learning at every opportunity.

He was my first equine post-mortem. Since then, I’ve had the privilege of learning from many more subjects, most of which I have been able to meet prior to euthanasia. The most recent of these was an unnamed Thoroughbred wobbler we nicknamed “Red”. After Sharon’s workshop last month, Red became the latest addition to my growing collection of skeleton teachers.

All of these horses have been destined for euthanasia. Ready to go. And all this time, I’ve been telling myself that when it came time to find a new equine partner, I would use the lessons these horses have shared with me, to choose the soundest, most suitable horse I could find. To avoid having my heart broken once again by an unsoundness that I could never fix, but only hope to manage. The kind of unsoundness that eventually breaks down a horse’s mind.

The hazard that comes with seeing so much damage to each horse’s body on the table, lies in becoming a glass-half-empty person. In not being able to un-see these problems in the live horse.

But recently, I was faced with a decision that made me realise I was looking at it all the wrong way, out of the fear of another heartbreaking journey.

My love for one of my sister’s horses challenged me to re-evaluate.

He was deteriorating rapidly in retirement, and the complications and cautions associated with my sister’s high risk pregnancy were restricting the kind of help she could offer him. It was looking as though she would have to do the most responsible thing and make the hardest call on his behalf. We spoke on the phone, and decided that I would check him out when visiting next. If I thought I had a good chance of turning him around, she would truck him over to me. If not, he would have a short trip on the green dream.

Knowing just how phenomenal his transformation had been when he first turned up in need of some rehab a couple of years ago, I was cautiously optimistic. Seeing him in person for the first time in many months, I was torn. I saw the same problems I had originally, but above all, I saw the light in his eyes and the life in his responses that told me he wasn’t done yet if given the chance. But it was also clear that without the ongoing rehab, it wouldn’t be fair to keep him holding on until the light did go out. This was a horse that, unlike my resident freeloading paddock puff, Jack, needed to be kept fit and managed until he decided he was ready to go.

All of these conflicting emotions made me doubt my assessment and my optimism. I was worried I was seeing his issues through rose coloured glasses, because I didn’t want to let him go when he’d shown me he was ready to try and willing to open up to me.

I showed the footage to my trusted mentor Sharon, knowing I might not like what she had to say. She was pragmatic. Sometimes it is best to let go. It would be a huge responsibility. But ultimately, she saw the same problems I did, nothing worse. What were my expectations? He’s already 10 years old. Did I realistically think I could manage those specific issues effectively enough?

I knew I could. I had seen him blossom once before and had played a part in his rehab then, and I had my sister’s insights to fill in all the gaps. My expectations were fair on him. I was hopeful that he might come good as a riding horse, for light dressage and pleasure work without many demands. And if he didn’t, I knew he would teach me a huge amount regardless. That in itself is priceless.

Why didn’t I want to let go?

Because the connection was already there. We didn’t know each other well, but I had been drawn to him for so long.

Because he is the first horse I’ve really clicked with since losing my other boy, and there was a chance he might become a beautiful riding partner in time.

Because I knew I would be able to make the call when, whether in months or years, it really was his time…but not yet.

Because, when I laid my hands on him, he softened, opened up, and said, “Yes, I’m still here; yes, I can try for you.”

But above all…

It is because I couldn’t in good conscience let a horse I loved so much go when I knew I COULD use the lessons from all of the others to help him. After all, that’s why I do this. I see so many horses with broken bodies. Some of them I can help. Some I can’t. I certainly can’t take on every rehab prospect as my personal responsibility. As much as I do connect with the horses I work with, I have to maintain professional boundaries at the same time.

But if I didn’t use everything I have learned from the horses who have taught me from life to death, everything I have learned from Sharon and others, everything I have learned from the horses I work with each day, to try and help the one horse I truly wanted to save, when he needed someone with my skills…then what is the point?

It was a moment of truth. An opportunity to fulfil part of the promise I made to that one horse in a meaningful way. To save the horses I can.

Why not give it a shot then?

And so, just shy of the second anniversary of that promise,
a new journey begins.

The newest member of our family stepped off the truck from Adelaide on Friday night, arriving safe and sound courtesy of Hanns Horse Transport, as an early wedding present from my sister.

My non-horsey partner would be lying if he said he wasn’t at all excited when he met him on Saturday – Jack, he considers to be more oversized puppy than horse, and this time, our new boy really is “our” horse from the get go, and he’ll be ours for the rest of his life. They were snuggling up to each other in moments!

The new boy (a redhead! I finally landed myself with a redhead! Did hell freeze over too?!) is settling in well, refusing to succumb to Jack’s delusions of grandeur and even knocking him off his perch a little! Somehow I think these two are going to become fast friends…

He’ll have some time to recover and pick up a bit before we start any work, so my focus over the next month or so is simply to have him feeling well on the inside while we get to know each other better than we did before, and that will include starting on some bodywork and stretches as well as general TLC.

From there, who knows? I guess we’ll have to wait and see, but for now, I am over the moon to introduce you to the redhead who finally stole my heart.

Everybody, meet Mr “Ollie” Ollivander!

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