While other pre-teen girls were taking dance class and learning to play the piano, I only wanted to spend my time doing one thing – riding a horse.  I’d fall asleep every night dreaming of riding in the Olympics and becoming a professional show jumper.  At age 10 I started to take weekly lessons.  During the summer, my parents would drop me off at the barn in the morning and pick me up long after the sun had set.  My “barn rat” friends and I would spend our days grooming horses, cleaning tack, painting fences and anything else we could think of.  It was often hard work, but for us, it was enough just to be there, around the horses.

After several years of riding and several successful competitions, my instructor thought I needed a new challenge, so she had me start training on a spunky little Thoroughbred mare named Fancy That.  Fancy was an ex-race horse.  She was full of energy and a bit too unpredictable for newer students so she spent most of her time in her stall.  I remembered being a little scared the first time I climbed into her saddle.  I didn’t know what to expect.  Right away, I knew she was unlike any horse I’d ever ridden. Fast, smart and brave.  The slightest touch of your heel and she’d launch into motion, always leaping a little higher than necessary to clear the practice fences.  After years of pushing the typical school horse to do anything more than walk, riding her was a dream. I was hooked right from the start.  I was a calm and quiet rider, capable of balancing out her nervous energy.  As we developed a mutual trust for one another, we blossomed into an excellent team.

I remember crying happy tears the day I learned my parents had decided to buy her for me. I couldn’t believe she was actually mine! It seems silly to say, but during those years Fancy was my best friend.  As I struggled with my parents divorce and stumbled through my awkward middle school years, she was my safe place.  Riding her made me feel alive and significant.  Even when we left the show ring empty handed, I never felt anything but love and admiration for that spunky little mare.  If you’ve never loved a horse, it might be hard to believe that a creature so large can love you back, but I know that she did.  I could tell by the way she’d whinny when my car would pull into the parking lot. And the sweet way she’d nuzzle my side with her nose when I brushed her down after a ride. And the way her ears would perk back as I talked to her on a ride.  There’s truly no better listener than a horse.

Today I say goodbye to my sweet horse.  She lived out her final days on a friend’s farm in Montana, where she has spent the past 10+ years helping teach other young girls to ride and happily munching grass in a big open pasture.  I’m sorry to say that far too much time has past since I’ve stroked her sweet face or felt that surge of energy she’d get as we headed towards a jump.  I’ll never forget you Fancy That.  I’ll remember the ticklish spot in the middle of your mane that would make you shake your head.  (We always loved to use that little trick to convince small children you were answering “Yes!” when they asked if you wanted a carrot.)  And the time you were scared near to death when I tried to introduce you to a cow and it licked your nose.  I’ll remember your sweet whinny, the nervous prance in your step and the tiny tuft of white hair on your forehead that always looked out of place.  Thank you for touching my life and the lives of many other young girls after me.  So long my sweet, spunky little mare. You were a great horse and an even better friend.