Horse Stories

I CRINGE WHEN I SAY THIS, BUT…

MY HORSES HAVE BECOME A BURDEN

We adopted Gracie and Mikey in 2019 to keep Charlie company after the last member of his herd had passed. Five months later, my newest steel knee joint became infected, steeling my mobility and my strength. That ambulance ride was followed by three more surgeries to save my leg, a year of IV and pill antibiotics to finally rid my body of all the infection, PT, walkers and wheelchairs, four years of medical bills and Greg doing everything around the horses and farm, and for me—cooking, shopping, being by my side to prevent a fall, doing laundry, changing the sheets, even clipping my toenails. He lost his job because of me.

We’ve been coping okay, but emergencies happen—our furnace and hot water heater both needing to be replaced, a huge vet bill for Gracie’s teeth. The drought cut our hay production by more than half, becoming the absolute worst season in years. All summer during the long stretches of drought, we watched the radar and the sky as the rain clouds parted over us, giving us blue sky and surrounding areas the precipitation we’d hoped to share.

Now that it is past hay harvesting season, the rain has come. Hopefully, it will help next year’s crop of hay but for now it makes it difficult for me to get around outside. My wheelchair and walker get stuck in the damp soil. A short visit to see the horses in the barn becomes not only challenging, but also drains the energy I need for my rehab. Since the fifth surgery on my right knee two months ago, I again have hope of walking well enough to one day go to the store, to a writers’ conference, or to be able to thoroughly groom Gracie and Mikey. Until then, I don’t dare get too close to them for fear they will knock me down. So mostly, I see them from afar.

We’ve always kept the animals we’ve adopted, giving them the best life possible until the day they die. But me getting old, infirm, and handicapped endangers that commitment for Mikey and Gracie.

We’ve tried placing them with a new family, put out the word to horse friends, and called appropriate non-kill horse sanctuaries. But times are hard. The cost of food, gas, and hay has skyrocketed. One shelter asked for thousands of dollars each to cover the cost for six months of their care and declared they would not be placed together.

Mikey and Gracie have been bonded for most of their lives, probably since they were retired from racing at two, sent to a home that, due to the number of horses and the age of their caretaker (she was placed in a full-care nursing facility herself) became neglectful, even abusive—out of the thirty-odd horses living in three barns, some were found dead from disease, injuries, or starvation and others had to be put down. The rest were placed in new homes.

Although we don’t know Mikey or Gracie’s exact age (not much of anything about them other than the conditions we rescued them from), the vet estimates they are in their late 20s. Gracie has a lip tattoo from racing, which could have established her age, but it is too old and blurry to be read.

Can you image being with an adopted sibling for 25 years, then be pulled apart, with no way to understand why? Some say horses are resilient, and they would be okay. But I just can’t do it to them.

So, I’m doing the hardest thing there is for me to do. I’m asking for help. I’ve posted a donate button on my website for anyone who wants to help us buy a bag of horse treats for Mikey and Gracie, a bag of grain, or cover the regular visit from the farrier for hoof trimming. Anything you can do to help, one time or a small amount every month, we and the horses would appreciate it. I know it’s asking a lot during these tough times, but I’m hanging on by my fingernails.

I will continue sharing stories, and anyone who gives over $25 will receive a free digital copy of my book of my stories and watercolors of the horses when it is released