MOVING ON

I was going to use a recent picture of "Sport" which would show him at his current age of 22. He is still an intelligent, handsome fellow; still curious and even a little rascally. But in this picture you see all of his strength and power. He is fit and focused, an athlete. It is how I will always think of him-in his prime doing what he loves more than anything: carrying my daughter on his glistening, muscled back. I was in the crowd that day, watching as many others in the crowd gasped at the beauty of the poetic flow of these two beings in perfect harmony attack the cross-country course.

He is a tall Thoroughbred, by any standards. He is 16:3 hands. A "hand" equals four inches, so he is 5-1/2 feet at the withers, or the place where his neck attaches to his body. I can't see over his back- not even close. His two white stockings add a delightful "chrome" to his breath-taking appearance. He has a white star and strip from his forehead down his nose. He has always been a horse that turns heads.

My daughter is 7 years older than he is. When she first got him, he was 4 years old. She was a small 11 year old. They grew together into a powerhouse of talent and ability. Many weekends we spent together on a farm, camping so that she could compete in a "3-day event." Oh, loading up the truck with all of the gear, food for people and the horse! I groan to think about all of that work. The pay-off was well worth it, though. I loved watching them negotiating the obstacles and showing off their talent together.

When we have a pet, their usefulness never ends. They are a companion until their last breath. When you have a horse, their usefulness does end long before their life is over. You want to ride, but they really can't perform any more. You can go out for a short, light ride, but not the kind of ride you might be used to. You wouldn't make your Grandpa play tackle football with you, right?

So, my daughter now has a career and a husband. She lives nearby but is too busy to come by too often. When she does come by, she will sometimes visit her old friend, but sometime skips it due to weather or, who knows? She has moved on. The trouble is, Sport hasn't. He still looks for her every day. I care for him lovingly, but the bonding they have is strong, very strong. He nickers to me at feeding time and takes good care of his little friend, Bergitta. But I think I see him longing for another trail ride, another carrot from his life-long best friend, my daughter. He craves the attention he used to get from her when she meticulously brushed his copper coat.

Sport is a lucky horse. He has been able to live at the same place, with the same excellent care every day. If I had to give up a horse, I would want it to be to someone who would love him as their own. And I do. Maybe one day, they will go on another ride together. Maybe...