Leaves on towering oaks shading the pasture barely stirred in a weak summer breeze as I finished the morning chores. The sun, not long over the horizon, promised another hot, sultry day. A persistent horsefly buzzed me as I propped a foot on the gate and rested elbows on the top plank. Spying some available skin, the horsefly thought to take a bite of my forearm, but a quick slap ended his plan. A seemingly endless supply of the bloodthirsty insects buzzed around my head and pestered the single occupant of the pasture.
The despondent horse kept his tail in constant motion as he turned a baleful eye toward me. Noticing the absence of a feed bucket in my hands, he again lowered his head and sighed. I crawled through the railings of the gate to approach him. He grunted as I scratched behind his ears, turning his head in an attempt to rub against me.
“Oh no you don’t, big boy.” I blocked his move to scrub his face against my shoulder. “That’s one bad habit we haven’t been able to break you of in all these years, and I guess it’s too late now.” I rubbed the side of his face to appease him and gently eased his head to forward position again. Giving his ears another good scratching, I earned another satisfied grunt.
“Rodeo, you miss your buddy, don’t you?” I ran my fingers through his mane as memories surrounded me. His pasture mate had died the previous year, and the old sorrel gelding felt the absence of his friend deeply. “I miss him too,” I murmured, probably more to comfort myself than the stocky quarter horse who again ignored me. Without an offer of food, he wasn’t interested in conversation, and a check of my pockets found no horse treats.
We’d owned his absent pasture mate, Go-Boy, a feisty Arabian, for many years. Although I’d had a horse as a child, Go-Boy was my first horse as an adult. He lived up to his name—he liked to go. A spirited horse suited me just fine since I liked to go too. As he’d aged, Go-Boy settled down, and we grew older and slower together.
As my daughter became old enough to ride with me, we needed another horse. My husband inquired among his acquaintances, and we found a neighbor anxious to sell. I rode this newly purchased addition to our family more than five miles on the shoulders of rural roads to bring him to our farm. Every step of the way, the stubborn equine fought to turn around and go home. Only the fact that his rider was even more stubborn brought about our arrival to the farm.
Our new addition came to us named Rattlesnake. We hadn’t inquired as to the history of the name but hoped it wasn’t an omen of hard times ahead with our new horse.
We decided to start with a clean slate and renamed him Rodeo. Later, he would live up to his new name as he tested us in numerous ways and exuberantly bucked me off during a trail ride and raced home without me. But for the most part, Rodeo settled in, although his stubborn streak never disappeared.
Rodeo and Go-Boy immediately bonded. They skirmished and picked on each other like two middle school boys but loved one another as brothers. Like people, horses are social animals—they don’t like to be alone.
Now, after years with Go-Boy as a companion, Rodeo lived in solitude, alone and sad. He was older and we no longer rode him, but he wasn’t adjusting to the absence of his friend. We didn’t know how to help him get over his sorrow.
But then . . .
My husband, a social and friendly man, seemed to know everyone and all the news in our community. Another neighbor was in possession of an abandoned horse. Someone had asked him to keep the horse for a short time, and he never saw the owner again. He wanted the horse out of his pasture. When we visited to check out the horse in need of rescue, we found a little white Arabian mare, thin, skittish, and afraid of her own shadow.
Our teenage daughter was immediately smitten with the timid horse, and we decided to take her. She came without a name, and our daughter christened her Princess Leia.
We brought our little girl home, unloaded her, and placed her in a pasture adjacent to Rodeo. The old horse’s head shot up as he stared at the new arrival. He shouted a welcome with a hearty snort. Head high and tail plumed in show-off mode, he pranced back and forth across his pasture, trumpeting his excitement with constant neighs of, “Look at me, you lovely little horse!”
He came close to the pasture fence separating him from this new and fascinating creature and preened some more as if to say, “I like you, you pretty thing. What do you think of me?”
Being shy, Princess Leia remained aloof and didn’t get within touching range. But that didn’t stop Rodeo from hanging over the fence, fascinated by this vision of loveliness who had suddenly appeared in his life. The old horse became a young fellow out to impress the new girl in town.
As we watched the show Rodeo put on for his Princess, we laughed with surprise and joy. Where had this excited, suddenly young horse come from? Observing our boy, who’d been fading with loneliness and sorrow, become excited about a new companion blessed our day and brought gladness to our hearts.
While we thought we were rescuing our little Princess, she gave our Rodeo a new lease on life. His exuberance didn’t last forever (because he was an old horse), but he had several more happy years with his new friend.
Sometimes a friend, companion, or a partner enters our life at just the right time to bring hope, joy, and second chances of love and life.