Thanksgiving serves as a reminder to be gracious for what we have. For this ammy, the past two years have held events around this time that have my heart feeling especially thankful for what is still here.
There’s no denying that those of us who own or lease horses can call ourselves lucky. But with that responsibility comes the heartbreak of when things go awry. If you could rewind to November 2017, you’d find me spending most of it frantically calling the vet, crossing my fingers, and clutching the tissue in my pocket for when I would inevitably burst into tears at the unknown of Ax’s future. Few things break your holiday spirit like your vet uttering, “I think he fractured his scapula; I’m referring you to the nearest hospital,” as your horse stands on three legs behind her, shivering from whatever pain is wracking his body.
Almost a year later, October of 2018 brought the loss of an important four-legged member of our family. In what was a whirlwind of a week, my mom’s horse, Blue, went from being a seemingly healthy mare, to a diagnosis of rapid liver failure. The prognosis? “Could be a week. Could be a year.” While what my mom did for Blue was the best for her well-being, it stings just the same—we all know that these days come when we bring any animal into our lives, but it doesn’t make the decisions any easier.
Now two years later, I am still grateful for every day I get to put my foot in the stirrup and swing onto Ax’s back. Whenever anyone asks how he is doing, my response is an immediate “I am just so thankful to still be able to ride him—to have him here.” As for Blue, she rests at my childhood home. Ax now wears some of her blankets, and every now and then, I catch him doing something out of his ordinary but that was very much in hers.
It is easy to forget how special these animals are, even those we love endlessly. For me, it wasn’t a top ribbon or victory gallop that reminded me how lucky I am, it was realizing how close I could be—and almost was—to losing my horse of a lifetime. For that, and for his continued snuggles and demanding of cookies, I am forever thankful.
The Working Amateur 