Happy Monday! Today feels even more Monday-esque to me than usual, because I’m exhausted and sore and emotionally spent. Yesterday, I moved my horses from Ohio to Kentucky. The day began at 8 AM in Florence, Kentucky and ended at 9 PM in Lexington, Kentucky – throw in Cincinnati, Ohio and Shelbyville, Kentucky into the mix – it was a long day. A day that I’ve been anxious about for a month now, since the day I knew that I’d be moving them. I knew I was taking them to a better place and that it was the right decision, but I also knew that this was my second chance.
I’ve always been a horse girl. Always. I can’t remember a time that I wasn’t obsessed with them. Most girls go through a phase, but some don’t ever grow out of it. I didn’t come from a horse family, and becoming a first generation horse girl is not easy. There is so much to learn and so much that can be done wrong. I was extremely lucky to have parents that encouraged my passion and worked to give me every opportunity possible to be around horses.
When I was twelve years old my parents found a local horse rescue and said if I volunteered there for the summer, I could adopt a horse at the end. And that’s what I did. I worked my butt off and got my first mare, Smokey. She was a twenty-something Paint mare that was as kid-proof as they came and she took the best care of me. We also left the rescue with a retired trail Quarter Horse/Mustang Cross gelding and my mom’s project – an abused and neglected Arabian stallion (gelded when we took him) that only she could get close to.
Ever since that day, I’ve been a horse owner. Not the most educated, not the most skilled – but I loved them and I loved every second of having them. Of course, I grew up. I went to high school, I went to college, I graduated college. The horses took a backseat. I didn’t come home as much, I didn’t see them as often.
Then at the end of 2016, my mom died suddenly. Among the things she left behind, that Arabian gelding that she saved was one of them. She loved that horse so much, she was so devoted to him and he loved her too. Suddenly I couldn’t even bear to go see him and my mare Destiny anymore. I quit coming home unless I absolutely had to and I avoided seeing them at all costs, I made every excuse in the book. Finally, my dad told me that he’d turned care over to the boarding managers. We didn’t own them anymore. He cried and so did I, we knew we failed them. We didn’t take care of them. Out of everything that had happened since my mom past, that was what I was most ashamed of. I let her down, I let Trigger and Destiny down. It was painful so I buried it as far as I could.
Then I got a phone call late one Saturday night, asking me to take them back. I said of course. And then dread set in. Could I really do this? I failed before. But I couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing what would happen to them, I had to step up. This was my second chance. Arranging everything was difficult, convincing my dad that moving them to Kentucky wasn’t easy – but I knew I had to find a better place for them.
Yesterday was the culmination of 4 weeks of phone calls, rushed vet visits, pooling money together and making tough decisions. We spent almost three hours trying to load them in the trailer. We bribed, pulled, pushed, shanked, begged and pleaded. I started to lose hope, maybe I couldn’t do this. I messed up too much, how can I, an absent horse owner, expect to waltz in and load them up like it’s nothing? Why would these animals trust me when I walked out on them? I was close to tears when we finally loaded Trigger into the trailer, a good hour after Destiny had finally loaded.
The whole drive to Kentucky, I was a bag of nerves. Am I doing the right thing? Moving them from stalls to pasture, from Ohio to Kentucky. When we arrived and unloaded them and walked them out to the field and let them loose, I could have collapsed in relief as they galloped out. It was confirmation that I was right, even through all the doubts, I was right.
I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. They still are located over an hour away, I won’t get to see them as much as I’d like but I’ll see them. I’ll make sure they have food, water, space to run, and care for the rest of their lives. I made a mistake, but I am so glad I have a second chance and I won’t ruin it. Not this time.
She Persisted 