Monday, September 17, 2012

Blake's Story

They say you get one horse per lifetime, and I just sincerely hope that that isn't true. Because if it is true, then that means I've lost that one, and what's the point in having other horses? Deep down, I don't want to believe that saying, and I think that you can have that same connection (but maybe in a different way) with multiple horses. You have to be able to, otherwise, why even try?

If there is only one horse per lifetime, Blake was mine. Strong, beautiful, 15'2 1100 lb bay quarter horse, HYPP N/H (you can guess how this story ends). He was mine, and I was his. He was my whole world.

Blake and I met the summer of 2003, when we were both newbies to our jobs at the local riding stable in the town where I grew up. I was 15 years old, and he was 5. I, being a suburbia-raised horse-crazy kid with little horse exposure besides horse camp and a few lessons here and there, was enthralled to get the job. Working there had been a dream of mine since forever. I was much younger than the other girls, but I caught on fast. I was willing to do all the undesirable job tasks, from poop-scooping the whole corral to giving 10 pony rides in a row. And when no one wanted to ride the gangly, awkward bay horse who occasionally kick at other horses and sometimes people out of frustration, that job fell to me. Really, no one liked him. We put the ugliest pad and ugliest halter on him (both urine-yellow colored), to save the prettier ones for the horses that were more well-liked.

I specifically recall a memory in which I saw Blake standing tied at one end of the corral, and my boss telling me to take the out the next ride, and when I asked which horse to take, I thought to myself, "please not Blake, please not Blake." And my boss said, "take Blake." And so I did. And after that I was assigned to ride him the next day, and the next day, and so on. And he grew on me. And I rode him when I came in on my days off (I think I spent most of my days off actually at work). And I exercised him through the winter. And I bought him a nice green saddle blanket and matching halter, to spice up his look a little. And he got nicer; he got more pleasant to be around. It's crazy what a little love can do to a horse. He also grew into himself a little more, though that had more to do with actual growing.

Blake in 2003 with his spiffy matching blanket and halter

When I was sixteen at the end of my second year, I tried to buy Blake from my boss. By that time Blake had grown more and become a reliable trail horse, well-behaved enough to pack around kids and strong enough to carry large adults. He was too valuable to my boss, and I was out of luck. At the end of my 3rd year, when I was 17 and a senior in high school, I tried again, and this time I had saved up money specifically to make my boss a really good offer. On October 29th, 2005, I offered my boss $2,500 to take the big bay off his hands. He accepted, and at the end of the working season, Blake was mine.

After that, Blake no longer had to tolerate the riding stable customers on his back. He was a spoiled, privately owned horse.

When I left for college in the fall of 2006, I kept Blake (and Bailey, my other horse, who I bought shortly after Blake...whole other story, sort of a spur-of-the-moment buy to keep him from the auction) back home so I could come back and use him when I worked on the weekends. My first week of college, I got a phone call- something was wrong with my horse. He was having weird muscle twitches, breathing funny, and sweating. I said call the vet. The vet came, checked him out, and took some blood/hair samples to run some tests. Blake was okay that day, but I got test results back that my horse was HYPP positive, and I learned a thing or two about emergency vet bills.

I tried to learn as much as possible about HYPP- my vet gave me a pamphlet on it, and what to do if he had another attack. But Blake was fine. At the end of that November, I took Blake to college with me, and we together we spent 4 amazing years together. I'd drive up, he'd canter up to the gate and whinny at me, and we'd either go for a ride, hang out in the grassy roundpen and eat grass (him, not me), or we'd play tag in the indoor arena. I called him my soul mate, and every boy I dated knew that he'd had my heart first. And he didn't have another attack.
Keeping warm in the winter of 2007

Enjoying the grassy roundpen in the summer of 2010

When I graduated college in 2010, I packed up my life (and my horses), and moved across the country for graduate school. Though I had been a horse owner for nearly 5 years by that point, I have to admit that my training had been pretty informal. But I knew about colic, and I tried to keep their diet the same. I didn't know if anything would provoke Blake's HYPP, but I wasn't too worried. 5 years, no episodes. I figured if something needed to be changed, he'd maybe have a small attack like last time, and I'd change things (diet, turnout, whatever) from there. And for a while, my horse was fine.

On Saturday, November 6th, 2010, I woke up to a call from my barn owner. Blake was dead.

I can't even describe how the drive to the stable went. I don't want to, I don't want to remember. There was my soul mate, huge, strong, powerful, and lifeless. I bawled into his neck and held onto my other horse, telling him (telling myself) it would be okay. I don't want to think about how he died. I know more about HYPP now, and I know how horrible it can be. I'll never stop thinking about the "what ifs": what if his diet caused it, what if he'd had more turnout, what if he'd been boarded somewhere else. What if it was my fault.

Two weeks later, I moved Bailey to a new barn so he could be closer to me. I loved Bailey (I still have him and I still love him), but he's not "that one horse." He's a cute, spunky, crotchety old man and I won't ever sell him, but the connection isn't there.

In January of 2011 I decided I needed a rideable horse (Bailey's pushing 27, and for the past few years has been sound on-and-off). I adopted a 10-year-old thoroughbred from a nearby horse rescue, and she's wonderful. She's taught me so much: mostly, that she's a project, and that I have a LOT to learn. Piper perks up when she sees me, enjoys the work we do, and is constantly teaching me things. I found her when I needed her most, and she got me back in the saddle after a painful two-month dry spell. We have a lot of fun, and we're learning together. I've had Piper for a year and a half now; she's not Blake, and though I sort of bought her to replace him, she never will. But maybe Blake doesn't have to be my only "one horse." Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll be allowed to have a second soul mate.

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