I love horses. In fact, I am sure I AM a horse. I had a wonderful appendix quarter mare, Didit Myway. She raced, was given an award of merit as a two-year-old and then was bred for 9 seasons. By the time we found one another her luck had run down and was on its way up again. Between the down and the up she had been adopted by some well meaning folks who didn't know that 40 head of used-up race horses and brood mares would not metabolize a constant diet of wild grasses for feed. My 1,049 pound mare weighed 679 pounds at her initial rescue.
My friend, Lillian, put up with my incessant chatter about the horse I was expecting; she had put up with it for far longer than anyone else would have and it was her daughter who found Myway, adopted her, and pulled her through the initial rehab. I got the easy part; the loving.
She came to me with severely rotated coffin bones from a bad case of laminitis that we continued to work with until she crossed the rainbow bridge 6 years later. Didit Myway taught me everything I know about love, respect, acceptance and courage. I can still smell her sweet perfume, hear her whinny, feel her muscles, and see her huge brown eyes. And she was a bay with a white marking on her forehead. In fact, I used to call it her beacon because in the dark when I could not see anything else in her pasture, I could see the white mark that was halfway between a star and a blaze.
In addition to everything else, she was a stand up comedienne. Yep, Myway knew how to tell a good joke with a better sense of timing and comic relief than most humans.
Yesiree, she was quite the gal. Even now, her spirit is dictating every word of this post; my fingers are typing but the rest is straight from the horse’s mouth!
6 years is far too long to be horse-less. I can hardly wait for the next one. I just know there's a pony coming. Hey Lil, can you hear the hoof beats?