Fear Is A Funny Thing

The "Tao" is often described as a path, or way, to clarity. There are those who need guidance to move forward; and there are those who know the way in their bones. The latter seem to possess an uncluttered vision and intensity of commitment that light the way for others, as well as themselves.

- Unknown

I've mentioned my accident here in passing, but have yet to go into details. Today just happens to be the eighth anniversary.

Eight years later I still dream about my accident and in my dreams, it is all still very real. I can feel the wind in my face as we gallop, feel the rhythmic pounding of Angel's hooves, feel her pull on the reins silently asking to be let loose. I can hear her deep breaths and be lost in that world I so dearly love. Then it happens. I feel Angel stumbling. Over and over and over. I try and stay still, stay out of her way and let her find her footing. I feel myself flying through the air, and then the impact. The bone jarring impact that grips my heart with fear. I wake up with a start. Drenched in a cold sweat with my heart pounding in my chest.

July 26, 2003, Saturday, 7:30PM.
What I did was stupid, I shouldn't have done it and it was completely my fault. I wanted to let Angel out and gallop her a little bit. She had been cranky during our ride and I knew running full out was what she wanted. I knew when we reached the end of the straightway she veers sharply to the left, this is because the next field is so over-grown with undergrowth. We started out smoothly, within two strides Angel was in stride and moving comfortably, almost without effort. When we reached the end, she veered and I tighten up on the right rein and stepped into my right stirrup. I wanted to keep her straight, or as much as possible. In my mind, she was going too fast for that sharp of a turn and for sure she'd lose her footing and go down with me. She obeyed the rein and went into the field, where she took this huge step and stumbled to her knees. I lost my balance and let go of my right rein to steady myself. Angel kept stumbling and I kept waiting for the impact of her flipping over and possibly killing us both. I don't know how she did it, as if it was by magic, she regained her footing and then veered at what seemed like a 90º angle. It all happened so fast, her change in direction, and my clinging to the rein for balance. I was slipping and knew I faced a good chance of coming off. But in the back of my mind, I thought I could still save myself. Then it happened. The pressure on her mouth from the bit and my hanging on, Angel did probably the only thing possible - she flung her head to the left. It was like a bungee action or a snapping of a rubber band. She continued left and I flew to the right. I remember being so close to her thundering hooves and knowing there was a great chance I was going to be trampled under them. We were going so fast. My arms stretched out in front of me, my legs stretched out behind me; rendering it impossible to bring them back to my body for protection. With this knowledge in front of me, I knew I wasn't going to be able to go into a ball and roll with the impact. I also knew that at the speed and angle that I was at, I was going to break my neck and get killed. I didn't have a helmet on and landed face first going through the weeds. The only thing that I could think of to still save myself was to duck my left shoulder and throw myself into a ball. If I could do that, the worse that would happen would be a dislocated shoulder or a broken collar-bone. But I did it wrong, or maybe it didn't matter. When I hit the ground, I got whipped around and stopped. Just stopped.

The next thing that I remember was looking up into the clear blue sky with big fluffy white clouds. That's a good sign, I thought. But I knew something was wrong when I couldn't move and couldn't yell for help. I was behind a cornfield and no one saw me fall. My first sensation was nothing. I couldn't feel a single thing below my shoulders. Before panic could set in, pain started to fill my senses. I slowly moved my fingers, hands, neck, took a deep breath...and then nothing. I felt everything fine above the waist, it was below that was the problem. Before I could stop myself, panic did set in and I thought for sure I was paralyzed. Then ever so slow, an incredible pain started to filter its self in. As I took in my surroundings, I found myself surrounded by thick weeds and underbrush. And to add insult to injury, I stopped in a poison ivy bush. But Angel was no where to be seen. I had always wondered if Angel would stick around if I came off, now I knew. I was wrong. In actuality, Angel ran to the closest house, our neighbors, into their garage and when they went to grab her, she took off heading back towards me before going home on her own and into her stall. (Later a nurse was kind of enough to tell me that she thought Angel was trying to get me help my going to the neighbors first, years later I believe it.) My brother found me first and I told them to call 911. It seemed like ages before the ambulance got there. Then it was pure torture, them trying to move me into the ambulance and getting me to the hospital. They couldn't physically pick me up, so they had to slid a sheet under me and move me on to the stretcher that way.

My x-rays showed that I had broken my femur, at the point of the break my femur had shattered and both broken ends split down the middle, re-broke and came through the skin. When it came down to it, my femur was broken in four spots and I had a dislocated hip. I was in need of emergency surgery if my leg was to be saved. The orthopedic doctor at the county hospital was on call and wasn't returning the page, so around 1:30 a call was placed to Med Corp to transfer me to a level 1 trauma hospital that had the staff and specialist I would need. It was around 2:30am by the time Med Corp picked me up for the transfer and another hour before I got to the other hospital, where I was admitted through the ER. Seven hours had now passed.

Since I had been on so much morphine, the ER couldn't give me anything else but needed to stabilize me and more importantly my leg. I was given a local to numb me and with me being fully awake they drilled a hole through my tibia (right below the knee) to place a pin for traction. I was told prior that I wouldn't remember anything, that's half true. I don't remember the pain, but I'll never forget the sound of drill and breaking bone. I also don't remember screaming bloody murder, but I'm told that I did. From there on out, till after my surgery, everything is very blurry. I slept pretty much all the time and anything that did happen seems like a surreal dream now. I do remember being in prep for surgery and seeing my parents and brother there. During the surgery, 19 hours after my accident, they placed a titanium rod with two screws attached to my leg and a pin in my hip. Instead of stitches, I received 30 staples.

That Monday I started physical therapy, they wanted to get me up and walking around. My breathing was so hard, and it was during surgery, that they found that I couldn't be off oxygen.

I remember Tuesday being all round rough. I was told just how sick I was and that without enough oxygen, I could have permanent damage done to my brain and heart. They feared that my lungs where severely damaged and failing on me. Another x-ray of my chest was ordered. It was hell. My temperature rose to 103.5 and my blood pressure dropped to 93 over 60.

Wednesday they got the results of my x-ray and said that nothing was showing up. Back to physical therapy I went. That night though, they decided that since I wasn't getting better, that a blood transfusion might be best for me. Since my leg was broken for so long, they feared that some bone marrow had gotten into my bloodstream and was causing all the damage. The transfusion started at 5pm and ended at midnight. It was after the transfusion that I finally broke down and cried. It was the first time that I had cried during this whole ordeal. Gail, my 3rd shift nurse, encouraged me to cry, she said that it would probably make me feel better getting it out. It didn't make me feel any better.

Thursday my main doctor came in and told me that I could go home. I was happy and scared at them same time. I was discharged with enough drugs to make a hungry lion content.

In the beginning, I couldn't walk, not even on crutches. I got around with my wheelchair or walker. Two weeks after my accident, my staples were removed. That was horrible, it was like someone was performing hair removal with tweezers.

You truly don't realize how lucky you are that you can do something till it's ripped out of your hands. Nor do you realize how precious life is till you almost lose it. I know that I was very lucky, my first thought was I'm gonna get killed and then it was I'm gonna be paralyzed - all because of the angle and speed I fell at, the doctors figured I hit the ground going 30 -35 mph. We were almost full out, Angel was 16.2hh and weighed over 1200-lbs. So many things could have gone wrong. Angel could have stumbled and flipped right over landing on top of me, she could have lost her balance and fell when I fell and rolled over on me, my foot could have slipped in the stirrup and I couldn't have been drugged, etc, etc. There is so much and believe me I was truly scared whenever I thought about it, which was all the time.

I was also so embarrassed that this happened. Even I would like to think that I'm a better rider than this and would have stayed on, much less had enough common sense to not have done this. Angel probably knew about the undergrowth and that's why she veered, but I didn't listen and made her go into the field. Embarrassment turned into fear, scared that I wouldn't ride again and what kind of rider I would be.

After my accident I threw myself into school. I had four weeks to get from a wheelchair to crutches so that I could go back to school. Not to mention being able to get in and out of a vehicle that I could drive. More than two months after my accident, I re-broke my leg. It really sent me into a deep depression. It was such a set back, that mentally I didn't think I could handle it. There were days that my biggest challenge was getting out of bed. I didn't want to. I really just wanted to give up.

Of course you don't give up. You find the strength inside of yourself to pull through. Even though I was told I couldn't ride for a year, I was back on a horse (Sancho) exactly five weeks after my accident. My Dad had taken his saddle and one of my saddles down to the basement, knowing full well I couldn't get up and down stairs. My new saddle, he took the stirrups off and hung them up in the barn while placing the saddle in my closet. He obviously didn't know who he was messing with, a girl on a mission who needed to heal the only way she knew how: on the back of a horse.

I had convinced my Dad that I could lunge Sancho and asked for his jaquima, a Colombian headstall with reins, a bit holder and pisador (known as a life-line, can be used to tie the horse, lead or lunge), I had everything I needed to lunge Sancho, and ride him, albeit bareback. My Dad and brother, who was visiting that day, watched me for a short time and then went back to their work. Our pasture is in the shape of an upside down 'L' with the barn in front. I led Sancho to the back, tied him to the fence post and shimmed between the electric wires. I then rolled three cinder blocks under the fence and shimmed back. I stacked two cinder blocks on top of each other and used the other as a first step. It must have taken me, what felt like 20 minutes, to gather enough courage to get on and Sancho wasn't happy. He's only 13.2 hh and wasn't use to a 'mounting block', so he had started to dance around. I knew it was now or never, so I threw myself across Sancho's back. Who took that exact moment to bolt forward. I somehow managed to straighten myself and was faced with the an unimaginable pain; my broken leg was dangling against Sancho's side.

My brother was outside in the barn driveway working on his 1987 Monte Carlo, he didn't even look up as I rode by, just said, "You are going to get it..." Another trip earned me my Mother running out of the house, yelling, "You get off that horse right this minute!!!" Which got my Dad's attention inside the barn.

Let me just say, it was much easier to get on than it was to get off.

I didn't ride Angel for years. I couldn't breathe once I got on and would hold my breath during moments of stress. However, I knew I wasn't afraid to ride, I rode Sancho all the time, but it wasn't the same. I can't pin point when I lost the intense passion I had for horses and riding that I had growing up. It was before my accident, I know that much. There were days that I looked out the window into my pasture and saw Angel and Sancho grazing. I was longing to be the rider I once was, the girl that could ride any horse, who wouldn't bat an eye at a large jump, and thrived on the deafening sound from the crowd after a flawless ride. I didn't know what happened to her; was she asleep inside me, had she died, did I kill her off?

But then along came Dino, and slowly but surely I feel her reemerging.

Angel and I before the accident.

Sometimes, I question my own sanity

My favorite picture of Sancho.

Especially when it comes to Sancho. Over the last 12 years I have often wondered why I bought him and, more importantly, why have I kept him. I got Sancho when he nearly 12 and I was his fifth (maybe sixth) owner.

Sancho was foaled on August 3, 1987 and registered under the name Intimador de NFC. His first recorded owner was Sandra Erwin, of National Family Care Life Insurance Company (Dallas, TX), on August 29, 1989. I question if Mrs Erwin was the breeder/owner of Sancho because while she is the first registered owner, why did it take over two years to finally register him? I had thought somewhere in all of Sancho's papers he was bred and foaled in Oklahoma, but now I can't find that bit of information.

Sancho's second registered owner was Hacienda Classico in New Orleans (LA) on May 16, 1990. It was there that Sancho saw the rise and fall of his breeding career:

• May 5, 1992, buckskin colt, Intochable de Classico
• April 5, 1993, chestnut colt, Blaze de Classico
• April 8, 1993, bay colt, Starlite de Classico
• April 11, 1993, gray filly, Diamante de Classico
• May 4, 1993, bay colt, Virtuoso de Classico

Sancho's third registered owner was Hacienda de la Sol in Franklinton (LA) on December 20, 1993.

Sancho's fourth registered owner was Karen Williams in Liberty (TX) on October 31, 1997.

I met Sancho on June 5, 1999 and I purchased him on July 21, 1999. I have now owned him for more than half his life. From the beginning, it has never been easy. I don't recommend anyone buying a horse like I did with Sancho, it was crazy stupid. Nor do I ever recommend buying a horse in such a condition, it was crazy insane.

6/5/99-SANCHO-new horse arrived by van last night. No one was present when van dropped off horse, this AM he was found to have about 5" laceration RR (Right Rear) caudal (back of) pastern, also has other wounds on RR. (Little abrasions here and there, except for one; located on the front of the RR cannon bone, it looked like someone took an ice cream scooper and scooped all the way down to the bone. It was the size of a 50cent coin) Exam: horse quite painful, slightly dehydrated, non wt (weight) bearing RR. Romp/torb to clean wounds. Pastern wound is quite deep, excessive swelling makes it difficult to assess completely. Wound extends medially to inside of pastern. Gave TT, Pen IM. After cleaning wounds, wrapped RR pastern & lower limb w/biozide & epsom salts, owner (Marsha or Peggy) has already given 3gm (grams) of bute (horse asprin) PO. Rec: 2gm tomorrow & next day. Plan: recheck in 2 days & suture at that time. May have to anesthestize w/Ketamine. Dispense 100 SMZTMP, (horse penicillin) Rx: 10 BID, (10 pills three times a day) start tonight.

I was suppose to be there when the horses were dropped off. It was around 10pm when I called my boss and told her the horses still weren't there. She told me to leave that isle of lights on and a note instructing the haulers on where to put Sancho and Mariah, a Classic Fino mare we were also expecting. I had to work at my other job the next morning, got off around 2pm and went out to the barn. Jake was there and told me that I just missed the vet and to go check out the new gelding. From there I got the story: Louise was feeding that morning and noticed the new gelding standing in the far corner of his stall. At a closer look, she noticed blood and cuts on his back right so she went and called the barn manager to let her know. The BM (barn manager) came out and then called B (my boss) and the vet. The pastern wound was so deep that a man could easily fit two fingers inside the laceration. It was just millimeters from the artery in the leg; he would have bled to death. There was nothing in his stall to produce such cuts on him. A claim from B and the BM was that there was blood in the driveway and that the haulers must of had trouble and just left him that way. I never saw blood out there and the haulers denied leaving the horse in such a condition. Sancho was completely freaked, didn't want anyone near him. I remember standing outside the stall door looking at him when B approached me and said that she expected me to care for this horse back to health. I took the responsibility fully.

6/7/99-SANCHO-recheck wound RR, swelling has receded significantly, but does not appear to be amenable to suturing. (The skin just hung over his hoof, suturing was impossible because everytime he would flex and move the stitches would get ripped out. It had to heal from the inside out) Horse is slightly lame at a walk but is using foot normally. Flexor tendons appear to be functional. (We thought they had been damaged) Cleaned & re-bandaged leg, dispensed betadine scrub & biozide gel. Showed owner (B and myself) how to clean & wrap. Dispensed another 100 SMZTMP. Recheck next wk.

6/18/99-SANCHO-recheck RR, wound has granulated in (blood vessels that rise above the surface, also known as 'proud flesh'; reminds me of cauliflower *yuck*), horse walks favoring the leg. Rec: use trypzyme spray to control proud flesh & begin more exercise for physical therapy.

6/30/99-SANCHO-disp Trypzyme spray for wound, horse reportedly doing well.

Every single day I was there changing Sancho's bandages, hand walking him, grooming him, and loving on him to trust again. I even cleaned his stall, because no one else could do it like it needed to be - seriously. It stunk like no one can imagine. Since the injuries were so bad, Sancho couldn't be on sawdust (the small wood chips could bring on infection if they got into the wounds) so we kept him on straw. One day, I was called down to look at something in his stall and nearly got sick. The floor, which was clay, was almost a solid white -- from maggots!! I laid into people for doing such a lousy job on an injured horse's stall. That's when I took full control of Sancho, his care and rehab. I'd drive the 45 miles out to the vet's to pick up medicine for Sancho - medicine kept in my refrigerator at home, I called the vet weekly to give her updates on his condition, and when he needed new bandages, I went and bought them with my own money.

When potential buyers would come through the barn, B would always show them Sancho. He was well liked, but because of his injuries we didn't know if he'd ever be sound enough to ride again. So no one really showed enough interest in buying him. I had a few thousand dollars in my savings and kept telling myself that it was foolish to buy another horse. Then on July 21, 1999, B called me at the barn. Sancho's owner in Texas had called and wanted him sold or send back. B wanted to let me know and said she'd hate to see me lose him. I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. I knew Sancho was originally $8,000, but we were going to sell him for $5,000, because of his injuries we had lowered the price to $3,000. For the next 15 minutes it was phone tag between the owner in Texas and B, and myself and B. Finally, B calls me and says, "What can you spend?" And off the top of my head I said, "$1,500." "OK, you just got yourself a horse," is all I heard her say. I didn't know what to say, I didn't even think before I said it, and my parents knew nothing. The next day, B was going on vacation and told me I could just deposit the money into her account, she gave the number and everything and I did it. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I got had.

Sancho, Paso Fino, geld, DOB 1994
Kelly bought Sancho from B.
8/6/99-SANCHO-rechec wound RR paster, still carries some swelling even though Kelly keeps it wrapped. May always be thick due to where injury is. Wound still healing, looks good, no proud flesh. Rec: continue granulex spray, keep leg open when Sancho is turned out but bandage if in stall.

I had Sancho a full month before my parents found out and they wanted to kill me. Once again B was on vacation and out of touch for me. Louise was feeding that Saturday morning and called me at 8am. She told me to sit down and said, "A lady just called here. Her name is Karen. She claims that she is Sancho's owner and is going to be sending a van to pick him up. I told her about you, how you bought him from B and how you've been nursing him back to health...she didn't even know that he was injured. She's going to be calling you, I gave her your number so that you two can talk."

About an hour later, Karen called me and it was all true. I was heart broken. B had lied to me about everything. Sancho wasn't a 5year old gelding, he was a 12year old gelding, Karen knew nothing about Sancho being in a trailer accident and didn't OK his sale price to be so low. We talked several times that day. Then Karen surprised me when she said that she didn't really want him back, they never clicked and she was afraid to ride him. By this time, I've only ridden Sancho once or twice and it was only for a few minutes. It was on this day that I had to come clean about my buying Sancho to my parents and everything started to fall apart.

I started getting phone calls from perfect strangers claiming they owned this horse or that horse and how B had scammed them. Then one night it hit me. I was so stressed and tired, and I remembered what B told me: That every horse that comes into her barn, she places insurance on them - just in case something happens. A way to compensate the owners if you will. The haulers denied Sancho had been injured in their care, Louise found Sancho that way, B and the BM claimed there were pools of blood in the driveway that morning, and Karen knew nothing. What if Sancho was worth more dead to B than alive? Would she really injure a horse in the hopes of it dying to collect on the money? I was hearing so many stories, saw so many things while working there, heard B say things, and we had owners coming in the middle of the night to take back their horses. Adding all of this up told me that something wasn't right and I was in way over my head. It would have been the perfect alibi for B to move Sancho, re-sell him and accuse Karen of stealing him back, all the while leaving me with a knife in my back.

I needed a change and I needed an out. Driving home one night, an ad was on the radio for a local community college and their open registration for the next day. I thought about it all night and the next morning, then I decided I was going. I picked up enough classes that it made it hard for me to be at the barn so much. I was slowly dissocializing myself from everyone. B knew something was up and her checks started bouncing. At the same time, I was working on my parents to move Sancho home. Since B's checks were bouncing it helped me convince my parents that I needed to get out of that barn and get Sancho home. On September 26, 1999, Louise did me a favor and hauled Sancho home for me. I was free (for a little while at least) from B and her lies, and I had Sancho safely home.

Karen claimed that she never got her money from B and B's stories kept changing. I understood when Karen told me that she wouldn't sign Sancho over to me and never argued it or seeked legal help in obtaining his papers. There was so much fighting going on and lawyers involved, then on top of that the FBI calling me, I was just happy I got out and still had Sancho. At one point, B even called me and gave me 'friendly' advice, "Don't get involved by talking to these people, if I go down you're going down with me..." But her and the BM didn't stop there, they bad mouthed me all over the area. I just disappeared and waited it all out. Quickly they both lost credibility. B was run out of the area, and has been bad mouthed all over the horse community, and thanks to the digital age: the internet. Honestly, I have no bad feelings towards her, I just wish things hadn't turned as nasty as they did.

On August 3, 2001, Sancho's 14th birthday, I got a phone call. Karen was signing and sending Sancho's papers to me and all I had to do was sign them and send them in to the PFHA. Sancho was mine, all mine - finally!

Today, Sancho is a happy guy. He's my Boi. My big (albeit, little) tough gelding that thinks he's all that, but scoots with his tail between his legs when you yell at him. Not once in the last 12 years has he been lame on that leg and not once have I had any other problems with that leg. As a matter of fact, you have to look closely to see anything. It looks virtually normal. He walks into a trailer fine and hauls comfortably. Everything that he shouldn't be able to do, he does. Off and on through the years, he has been for sale; and each time I deliberately placed the asking price too high.
.....
As I was thinking about writing this entry I tried to conjure up any emotion and I have none that just jumps out. There is pride, joy, love, admiration, sadness; Sancho came into my life at such a crucial turning point. There's also frustration. Sancho is not easy to get along with and I often joke (kinda) that I understand why he was sold so much, he's just plain difficult. I can't remember all the times I got angry phones calls because Sancho couldn't be caught and brought in from the pasture. Or how many times and DAYS that he lived outdoors because he couldn't be caught...okay, I think he eclipsed 30 days at one time. By then I wasn't trying, I didn't care and then he suddenly did care...but I still didn't care and he continued to live outside. But in the end, he has constantly redeemed himself as my "go-to" horse.

After my riding accident and I wanted to start riding again, it was Sancho who helped me heal. When I wanted to experience parade riding, I took Sancho - who always loves a crowd, the larger the better.When I wanted to get back out there going to shows and clinics, Sancho was perfect the horse. Challenging Sancho with dressage, found he loved it and he quickly moved up schooling second/third level movements. He can perform a shoulder-fore, shoulder-in, leg-yield, half-pass, walking pirouette, turn on the haunches, haunches-in, etc., best of all he performs them correctly.

While dressage may seem crazy to some and fun to others, my personal favorite was hitting the trails. Over a five year period, Sancho and I racked up nearly a 1,000 miles. I taught him to jump up to 3', over ditches, and up and down banks. He is road safe, ATV safe, bike-roller blade-skate board safe, barking-chasing dog sane, and it took some work (okay a LOT of work) but Sancho crosses water, too. It doesn't even matter where Sancho is in the group, he can lead, bring up the rear or be somewhere in the middle - its all the same to him. Best of all six, seven or eight hours later I'm not sore like other members of our group. ;)

So yes, I bought Sancho on a whim.

Yes, I have had him for sale numerous times over the years.

And yes, he does frustrate me like no one other.

But much like how I think Dino and I were meant to find each other, with the passing of time I think the same of Sancho and myself. And in the end, this is his home, his forever home and I can't imagine not having him now. He's a part of my life and I'd like to think I'm apart of his.

Slippery Elm Trail, Sancho's and mine's favorite place to ride. It's paved the entire way, allowing me to lose myself to the music created by Sancho's hooves.

14-years....and counting!

Angel has never lost her inquisitive nature.

It was Spring 1997. I had graduated high school early and my days were filled with horses and riding. I'd been horseless for about 8-months, my junior career was over and it was time to move on, so I was back to catching rides on whatever came along. I had thought I had found a nice Hanoverian gelding the previous winter, but his owner's were firm in the price, which was too much, and my trainer said, "We'll find you something, just have patience..."

On March 24, 1997, a truck load of horses arrived from South Carolina. I remember the date because (one) they were a week late, one of the horses was a steeplechaser and his owner wanted one more race, and (two) this steeplechaser was renamed Oscar with the show name Academy Award - it was the night of the Oscars when they did finally arrive.

I knew one of the six horses on the van was for me, but I wasn't sure which one yet. I was secretly hoping it was Harley. He was this big bay gelding, just built like a hog and he had the most enduring personality. Every opportunity I got, I was taking care of him. After more than a month had passed, all but three horses were spoken for: Harley, Andrea and Aaron. Andrea was a young-green-grade filly. You couldn't tack her up in the cross-ties, you tacked her up in the arena, you had to lunge her before you rode, and you had to make a moving mount-up. Otherwise this filly would EXPLODE and she had a buck on her that no one stayed on! Aaron was a BIG imposing mare, very curious and inquisitive. She had the most amazing eyes and this beautiful dished face. I would hang on the fence and watch other riders school her, her jump was always flawless. I saw her take a 5' vertical with a foot to spare and it never mattered the size of the jump, her jump was always the same. She would boldly gallop to the base of the jump, spring up catlike with her knees to her nose and crack her back over the jump. She was just so round, not too many riders were able to stay with her. One day, during a home show, I was asked to turn her out in one of the back grass paddocks. I couldn't get over her size and how attentive she was, I was definitely smitten.

A few days after the home show, head trainer, Polly, told me to go get Andrea and my friend, Katie, to go get Aaron and be ready to ride in the outdoor. We were both probably nervous, I knew Andrea's reputation and by this time she had earned the nickname 'Bucking' Andrea. Katie was a good rider, so I can't imagine what she'd have to worry about. But then out of the blue, Polly came by and stood watching us get ready. She announced that she had changed her mind, I was to ride Aaron and Katie was to ride Andrea. "Whew," I thought, but then I remembered how bold Aaron was and her concussion forming jump. I was not going to win that day.

Katie and I joined the next lesson, and at the end of the hour Polly came out to check on us. I'll never forget what she said, "That one [Aaron] will like Kelly's soft hands, they'll be good together." I was ecstatic!! The date was April 28, 1997.

I had my new horse and now it was time for a new name, we had been calling her 'Aaron' because she came from Grand Prix rider Aaron Vale's farm in South Carolina. (Similarly, 'Andrea' was named for Aaron's business partner, Andrea King.) I was NOT going to call her a 'boy's' name, so at first I thought Sasha because she was so sassy over fences. I was also a big fan of Fox's Kindred: The Embraced, where one of the characters, a red-head, was named Sasha. However, the name just didn't feel right and instead I just kept calling her 'Mare'. Just a few days after I got 'Mare', I had a particularly bad jumping lesson, "It's like learning how to jump all over again....", I cried. Then it hit me, I learned how to jump on an old American Quarter Horse buckskin, named Angel (see below), and so 'Aaron' who became 'Mare' was officially christened...Angel.

Angel, an American Quarter Horse mare.

It wasn't long before Angel lived up to her new name. We were always short on taller-bigger horses in the lesson program, so I had agreed to Angel being used from time to time for the adult riders. I was not at the ring to witness this, but from what I was told, they were jumping a line of combinations and the rider became off-balance. So Angel stopped, but in doing so, somehow, got her reins caught on the jump standard pulling the jump onto herself. Angel didn't freak out, bolt, spook, panic, etc., she just stood there like a statue while my trainer walked up and untangled her. After the lesson my trainer, Beth, came up to me all smiles telling me what had happened.

This trademark in her personality has continued over the years. There was the time we were hauling to a show and her foot mysteriously became wedged under the manger in the trailer. We had to use a sledgehammer to get her free, and she didn't freak out. When people go to horse shows, they typically stay away from the loud speakers. They crackle, hiss, are loud, and basically they spook a lot of horses, not Angel; we could park right underneath one and they never bothered her. Best part was, no one else was ever parked next to us! Another time was when I had my accident, no one saw me fall and Angel got me help. A few months after my accident, I was getting on Angel bareback when I over-estimated my strength and actually leaped over her back. Instead of my falling to the ground, I had my hand still on the reins, Angel pulled back sharply keeping me upright and then lowered her head so that her head caught me in the chest.

If I hadn't decided on the name 'Angel', I think Cat would have been just as good. In all my life with horses, I have never seen such an accident prone animal...and one that has lived to tell about, too!

1. She tore her left front tendon.
2. She had a reaction to a bad rhino flu shot.
3. Said reaction^^ caused her to founder so badly she seedy toed.
4. She fell through an ice covered pond.
5. She fell into a 6' ditch, with me on her!
6. She got loose once and caught in a rope - major rope burn.
7. She slipped on ice and broke her knees open.
8. She jumped the pasture fence, landed on asphalt and re-broke open her knees.
9. She got her foot stuck under the manger on the way to a horse show.
10. She's colicked twice.
11. Has been cast once in her stall,
12. While rehabbing her took her swimming; she reared up and cracked her head on the ceiling.
13. Another time while backing out the horse trailer she slipped and cracked her head again.
14. Got stung in the eye and nearly lost said eye.
15. Accidentally stepped on her lead rope, reared up and slipped on the grass injuring her sacroiliac joint in her back. (Which has ended her career and almost her life.)

Angel doesn't let those little things bother her too much. She still gets free-range when turned out, we seriously don't pasture her just turn her loose in the yard. She rarely leaves the property and comes galloping when called. Recently she was up by the side of the garage and I called her to the back, she turned picked up a canter and jumped the corner of the back patio, a good six feet wide corner. But she didn't miss a stride, she was simply in her glory. When she was younger and I would leave the jumps up in the pasture, it was not uncommon to see her out there jumping on her own -- completely freestyle. People can say racehorses don't love to run or are not born to run, but I disagree. All you have to do is watch Angel jump something and you know that she truly loves it, so why can't racehorses love running?

Angel freestyle jumping.

One of the things I always considered myself lucky was, you couldn't tell when Angel was in season, as in ovulating. I've heard stories and I've witnessed mares that are purely witchy when in season. All they care about is not what you want them to care about and because they don't pay attention to the handler they are easily spooked and can kick out or bite. Under-saddle, I've heard its not even worth your time trying to ride them, you just can't gain their attention long enough to get any work done. Angel was never a moody mare in the sense of being nasty to ride, she was all business all the time. I just couldn't go changing my mind on distances or expecting her to carry me if we chipped in while jumping. In fact, to this day, the only way you know when she's in season is by her frequent 'potty' breaks.

On the ground was a different matter, as I've said before, Angel is truly an independent horse and has little use for humans or Dino and Sancho for that matter. She's still not moody, just a tough cookie and she truly has mellowed with age. Except when it come to blanketing. She will still nail you (or me, in this case) if you mess with her blanket. The last time my farrier was out he touched Angel's blanket up by the withers. Immediately Angel's eyes narrowed and her ears went flat back. Don't know what it is, but I think everytime she has bitten me it was over blanketing.

Even with all those injuries, freak accidents, and personality quirks, I look at Angel now and remember all the good times, 14-years worth. We know each other better than anyone, there are no secrets between us - just raw thoughts, emotions with no self interest; its a pure relationship. I look at her now and I still see this beautiful-amazing creature. This creature that is so smart, sometimes too smart for her own good, you show her something once and she'll do it herself the first chance she gets. What I don't see is this broken down animal, which is the reality. I remember in her 'glory' days she was so big that she wore an 80/82" blanket, and now her in twilight years she wears a 75". Her girth was a 52" and now she could probably wear a 48". I have to constantly remind myself now that I can no longer live in the past and rehash what was, instead I have to live in the present and cherish what time I have left with my Angel. And really, isn't that what's all about? Always being in the present and appreciative of what you have?

Angel and I enjoying some quality time.

As for 'Andrea', my friend, Katie, leased her for that summer and gave her the show name: Russian Roulette. Horse-people really do have a sick twisted sense of humor, don't they? When Angel was out for an injury and Katie had gone home for a few days, it was I who got to keep Andrea in work. As I had already mentioned, she had a buck no one could stay on....well that's not exactly true. She never got me off, she tried though, boy did she try, but I stayed on and I was the only rider to have ever done so.

Ahhh, to be young and stupid again, with a touch of stickability. :P