A testiment to love

Down the hill at the last house on the corner is a barn back around behind the garage. It's old and worn out from years gone by. Perhaps years earlier it knew glory with a now faded Quarter Horse breed sign posted on the outside.

When I moved in there were 3 mares hunkered down there and happy. Penny, a buckskin who hadn't seen a brush since her owner had turned 16 and gotten her driver's license. Mom, or as I knew her Princess, a shabby old bay pony, and Tara, the youngest at 17 and a flea bitten gray Arab. They were like 3 little old ladies hanging out having tea every day. Very much at peace in their lives.

I would take my old man Pete down there to ride in the flat part of the field and their bond would be challenged. Mom couldn't be bothered as she was nearing forty, but she was entertained watching the other two bicker over the new man in town. Standing back she'd watch Tara and Penny flirt and argue over who was going to get Pete.

As I showed up more and more the novelty of Pete faded, until one day I decided to take off his tack and let him enjoy the wide open pasture. Pete got in his after ride roll, and the ladies waited patiently for Pete to stand back up. Next thing I knew as I was relaxing under the shade of an apple tree, there was Pete being chased by three little ol' ladies.

Out on another ride in our field, fear and terror struck through my heart. Pete just stopped and stared. I have to say I was grateful I was mounted as I don't think this black bear knew what to make of me. The ladies had gotten so used to Pete and I being there at this point they were too busy grazing to first notice the commotion. However, once discovered it was over. This senior citizen trio took after that bear like little ol' ladies who'd just been robbed of their pocket books. Once the bear was out of their yard, they went back to snacking as though nothing was wrong.

Last winter, Mom moved on to another place. She was found dead in her stall, most likely due to colic. At nearly 38, the last few winters were supposed to be her last. Who knows what really happened, but they pulled her body out of the stall and buried her under a pile of dirt not 200 yards from the barn.

Tara, who had known this horse for all of Tara's years was there watching. For the next 3 days and nights Tara lay on Mom's grave. She did not drink. She did not eat. She did not move.

Come spring Penny's owner got tired of keeping her and gave her away for free. Tara was now all alone. She didn't come out of her stall. Her whinny was weak, her eyes despondent. Her owner contacted me. I came to visit coaxing her out of her stall. After a few weeks, I found her in her pasture. Her whinny had returned, but she was still lonely.

Then in August a horse enthusiast and novice (dangerous combination) started to rent the house on the corner. Every morning and night this woman would visit Tara giving her carrots and apples. Slowly as the bond grew, she began to sit on Tara's back after her evening brushing.

Tonight is bitter cold. I got a call to come help put blankets on Tara to keep her warm. Little by little I've been sharing what I know with this novice. I was told today that Tara went out to Mom's grave and asked if she might remember.

Of course she remembers and she mourns because she loves.