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Jessicas Horse StoryJessica's Horse Story: I look at the grey Arabian mare tilting her head. I call to her andBlindly she finds her way to me, looking for her daily brushing. Talking toher as I brush out her shedding coat, I remind her of all the good times we’vehad together. I tell her of how we first met. “ I was 5 years old and I wasn’t really interested in horses. I likedriding my brother’s old pony. But only if she had nothing on, no bridle,halter or saddle. I would just climb up on her and let her take me wherever. I told mom, when I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful horse I hadever seen. I told mom I would do anything for you. You were on a trailerheaded to the glue factory. You could barely walk, your feet hurt so bad. Italked mom into it and they left you at our house. I was so excited. I couldhardly wait to ride you.” As I move to brush her other side, I remember the first time I rode her. Ithad been 6 months of hard work waiting for that moment. “ I packed your feetwith icthamol and such every day. You dumped me, because you wanted to goback to the barn. I got back on you. We still went on with the ride, mom onher horse, pushing us right along.” “ I couldn’t wait to ride you every morning. We would ride around thepastures for hours. It probably drove you crazy, but you did it with your earsforward the whole time. Mom taught you to drive. And I learned to drive you. I always had to be careful of your legs though and we did a lot of walking. Iremember when mom let us canter for the first time. We were in the frontpasture, bare back, in your bright pink halter. I was only allowed to canterdown one side, so we went diagonally. I figured it was longer. All I did wassay canter and you did the smoothest, roundest canter I have ever felt. I justwanted to keep going.” Moving to her bright, long white mane, I began to comb it out. “ Whenyou finally got completely sound we started doing exhibitions anddemonstrations. Like the Calder Race Course ‘Parade of Breeds’ in our purpleArabian costume. Remember how mom forgot the stirrups on my saddle, so I hadto pretend to have them. We went swimming on the beach, did all the Christmasparades, the south Florida fair and exhibitions. We were inseparable. Oh Val… How I miss those days” I said as I run my fingers through her freshly combedmane. Remembering how much she means not just to me, but to all the kids andadults, she taught to ride and not be afraid of horses. “You’ve never stopped giving. Making the terrified love you with yourkindness. You melt people’s hearts, giving the youngest the riding bug. You’ve taught me so much, patience, compassion and how to take care ofsomething that I’ve realized I could never live without.” Coming back from my reminiscing I remember that Valentine is now 37years old, has Cushing’s disease and is totally blind. She looks forward toher daily grooming. I remind her of all the fun we’ve had. She gave me the'bug', just a little different than most. I’m drawn to the horses nobodyelse wants. I give them the chance to be and find and fix what’s wrong. Valentine is my Unicorn. She is the purest of pure. And she has given so manyhope of a better life. I kiss her on the nose and she neighs, as I say goodnight. Walking away, I realize she has made an impact, not only on my life but oneveryone she comes near. I’m thankful to of had her present in my life. Iwouldn’t trade her for anything.
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