Our Two Horses

Our two horses are thoroughbreds, born to run. Charming Mis, her name on her paperwork, was shortened to Missy, when she came to our house. She was seven years old. Born at a facility with a top racehorse trainer, they decided to auction her off when she was two. Purchased for $6,000, I assume by one who had hopes she would live up to her lineage, she being a descendant of the greatest racehorse in history, Man-O-War. But her new owner soon gave up on her, probably because of her noisy hips, and put her on a kill list. She was saved from execution and spent the next five years in a large herd at a rescue for thoroughbreds. The people of the rescue have big hearts, but too little resources for the too many horses they had on their too few acres. Missy nearly starved to death and was severely underweight when our home became hers.

We were planning on Missy being our only horse, but she couldn’t tolerate being alone. Horses are herd animals. They need that special social system that keeps them feeling safe. The first night Missy was with us she walked around in a circle all night, her head down, obviously miserable. She needed a companion.

Lauderman, his original name when he raced, came to be our other horse. He was renamed Cabo by the family that had him for fourteen years after his racing career was over. When he came to us, he was seventeen years old, ten years older than Missy. Missy was the more spirited of our two. Cabo is a gentle soul who takes things as they come. The two were a perfect match to become our two-horse herd in our two-and-a-half-acre pasture.

Cabo is twenty-eight years old now. Missy would be eighteen, but she died last fall. She was hit with colic in the early morning hours one September morning and after a brief struggle, she laid down and died. When we discovered what had happened, Cabo was standing with Missy, watching over her, grieving. He stayed with her until he was forced to move so Missy could be buried. Cabo was put in the barn while the man did his work, moving Missy into the grave he had prepared for her in our pasture. When his work was mostly done, Cabo broke through the gate of his stall and laid on Missy’s grave. The bond between these two is special. It runs silent and deep.

The nights around the 4^th of July were always hard on these two horses. They were born to run, not endure the noise of war. In our small town, everyone around buys fireworks. The nights of early July explode suddenly and continuously with booms, whistles, and bangs in every direction. Our two horses were super-stressed by it all and would run together from one side of the pasture to the other. And back again. There was no running away because as soon as they ran from one loud outburst, their retreat was blocked by another outburst. Escape was impossible. But they would make it through these worst nights of the year because they were together.

This year, Cabo must endure the war noises alone. We have been worried how he would hold up. When the fireworks began tonight, the 3^rd of July, I went out to be with Cabo. He wasn’t running much. Just standing in the front of the pasture, seemingly as far from most of the sounds of the moment. He was not interested in me being close. He was too jumpy for that. When the sounds emerged from a different direction, he moved. With more sounds, he started to run. Aimlessly it seemed. When there was a brief respite, Cabo returned to that spot where I found him in the beginning. He settled a bit.

I decided I couldn’t help him tonight. I left, though I lingered around the barn, filling to the top his already almost full water tank, called his name into the darkness a few times. Eventually, I gave up and went toward the house.

On the way, it hit me. Cabo’s chosen safe place tonight is the spot where Missy laid down to die.

When Missy was alive the bond between these two was obvious. Tonight, it stands out. I have a special bond with Cabo, but it is not enough tonight. Thankfully, the deep, rich bond between Cabo and Missy didn’t die when Missy did. Cabo still draws comfort from Missy. The bond lives. It still runs silent and deep and strong.