Jodee

     The name on her registration papers stated: April Star Jodee.  She was the best horse anyone could want.  Her glossy coat shone a dark chocolate brown, with a black mane and tale, and a white star on her forehead.  Jodee was a Quarter Horse.  She had the kindest brown eyes that were mirrors to her gentle, ageless soul.

 

    Steve Mark, and I felt privileged to have her come into our lives.

 

    To a small extent, I believe she has come back to us, even though it is about 15 years since she crossed the rainbow bridge.  I'll get back to why I feel that way. 

 

     Jodee came into our lives because Steve and I decided it was time we acquired horses.  Steve had recently survived a life-threatening accident, when a slash from Devil's Club on his arm became infected.  There is nothing like a stint in the hospital to remind you that life is finite.  What we had intended to do "someday" became "today."

                                                                     Jodee

 

    I began a search for horses.  I think I found the number in The Little Nickel classified ads.  Does anyone else remember that ubiquitous little yellow paper that was stacked for free at every retail outlet?  The paper predated the internet.  Is it still published?  I believe it is online now.

 

    I called local phone numbers and landed on an extension and an address close to us in Kent.  Steve and I, along with a very young Mark, headed out to find a horse, and at the same time we met new friends.  For the purposes of privacy, I won't mention their names, but I will say we met a wonderful couple with children close to Mark's age.  They were life-long riders, and they competed in barrel racing.  Jodee was for sale because her peak racing days were over.  Also on the market was a young Paint palomino filly.  We made arrangements to bring both equines home to Auburn.

 

    I can't remember what we paid for the pair, but whatever it was, it was a bargain.

 

    Even though Splash, the filly, wasn't a year old, she settled into her new home as comfortably and quickly as Jodee who was an old pro at accepting new situations.  Jodee, we quickly realized, was a natural mother.  She had had foals, and although Splash was not her own, Jodee's maternal nature kicked in.  It made the new environment an easy adjustment for both equines.

 

    I promptly began to enjoy Jodee under saddle.  Steve and Mark climbed on in turn.  At first I restricted myself to a sedate walk with an occasional trot, but Jodee, as she would with all her riders, determined when it was time to increase the pace.  She had, after all, been a racer.  However, she was always careful to keep her riders seated. 

 

    Given the many years we partnered with her, I don't ever remember Jodee losing a rider - except once, and that time she lost three in one go.  Jodee had been in her pasture that afternoon when Mark was entertaining a couple of his elementary school friends.  My son coaxed a willing Jodee to the fence, carefully avoiding the top rail where an electric wire ran.  Mark swung himself up on the horse and urged a second boy to follow.  Both boys waved over the third.  That child clambered the fence, the same as the others, but Jodee, without any physical restraints, had angled her hind end away from the fence.  The third youngster had more of a stretch.  As he did the splits to land behind the other two boys, his foot touched the wire. 

 

     Poor Jodee!  The jolt sent her spinning, and three boys unceremoniously hit the dirt.  No one was hurt, but the gentle mare seemed genuinely upset that her patient tolerance had been rewarded with a burst of electricity.

 

    Years Passed.  Jodee became a lesson mount for us.

 

    She would have two foals of her own, but she mothered every foal on the property.  When a young, first-time mother was uncertain of the the procedure with a new baby, Jodee stepped in.

 

    The only creature Jodee mistrusted was dogs.  Probably she had cause.  As a mother, she didn't want those "wolves" messing with her precious babies.

 

    As she aged, and her health deteriorated, Jodee still was a treasure.  At some point we stopped riding her, but her human friends realized she still liked to get out and about.  Most evenings, someone would come to take her on a walk in the neighborhood.  Although we had a halter on her, the rope usually remained in our pocket.

 

    Our veterinarian, at the time, was a crusty chap who had put down many equines.  He knew the drill.  Yet, he fought to keep Jodee alive because he admired the mare.  When the day came to let her go he, too, had tears.

 

    We all knew one of the great ones had left us.

                                                            Jodee

 

    Now, to explain why I think a part of Jodee has come back.

 

    Two new horses are in our pasture.  One is a red roan pinto pony.  The other is a glorious golden gaited mare, only slightly older than Jodee was when she came into our lives.

 

    The reason the palomino girl reminds me of Jodee..? 

 

    It is because a couple of months ago we got a phone call.  The woman on the recording called herself, "a voice from the past."  Indeed.  It was the woman who had sold us Jodee over 30 years ago.  We had lost touch as she and her husband left the state, then returned without our knowledge.  Now a widow, she was back, located only an hour from us, and she thought of us, and took a chance on our old phone number.

 

    We reconnected.  We felt as close as we had when we first met her.  Weeks later she confided that her health was slipping Tentatively, she asked it we would be interested in buying her horses.  We knew her.  We knew any animal of hers would be stellar, and spectacularly well-trained.

 

    So, once again, we have a new brilliant mare, and an adorable pinto pony.  The personalities are not the same; the old pony is not my Splash, and the palomino is not Jodee.

 

    Yet, when I look at the golden mare, and she stares with her remarkable amber eyes, somehow I feel as if a part of Jodee has returned. 

     

     

     

The Way It Used To Be

     Sometimes I feel diminished.  

    I remember the way it used to be, back in the days when we had Miniature Horses, and the freedom to share time with the rest of the world.  today, the minis have crossed the rainbow bridge, and the insurance companies dictate what we can do - which is very, very little.

    There was a time when we visited nursing homes, attended festivals, lectured at libraries, and even marched in parades.  (I admit parades were never my favorite - but anyway...)  For a few years the Puyallup Fair paid us to present our Exmoor Ponies to the public.  That was exhausting, but memorable fun.  We spread the word about our wonderful rare breed animals. 

    It wasn't always the Miniature Horses who were trailered out for day trips.  Our Shire draft horse, Mac, was a special hit with the nursing and assisted living homes.  The minis are adorable, but Mac could brighten the face of many seniors living his or her last years in a facility.  We discovered there was noting like a draft horse to create delight, and bring out memories of days farming with the big animals. 

    Today we don't have a draft horse, any more than a Miniature or an Exmoor.  Bonnie was our last draft and she passed away a year ago.  She never made any outside visits.  I think she would have enjoyed the attention.  Draft horses are big loves.  

    I remember a number of festivals where we were invited at the last moment.  I think it was a Federal Way City festival where I was expected to bring a cart and pony.  A week before the event I suddenly realized that the two minis I had intended to bring were unavailable.  Shadow had come up lame, and Peach was pregnant.  I looked out in the pasture.  I had eight days to train a mini to pull a cart, then present the horse in public.  Mischief, a sorrel pinto, was my candidate.  She was an apt pupil.  She took to driving as if she had been born to it.  (Maybe she was.)  A week later we were surrounded by people and booths in a large park.  Mischief never put a wrong foot forward, after that single, intense week of training. 

    Sometimes the events were more popular than we expected.  On one memorable library visit the librarians realized the crowd exceeded their expectations.  We were asked to move our program outside.  Fortunately, I had enough helpers to manage the three minis who were part of the program we had planned.  I can't recall the other two horses, but I do remember that Peach was with us this time.  She was a bright chestnut, class B Miniature.  (The B indicated she was more than 34 inches, but under 38 inches at the last hair of her mane.)  I think I had completed the story part of the performance when I realized Peach had disappeared.  I could see the student who was supposed to be holding her lead rope, but Peach was invisible.  I peered closer.  There was a mound of children.  And just barely, I spotted a small patch of red fur.

    Peach was completely covered by children!

    And she was patiently standing completely still.  She might even have been enjoying the attention in a bemused sort of way. 

    Horse shows used to be part of our program, too.  Yes, I competed.  I took dressage lessons at Fox Ridge Farm.  Steve took a few lessons, too, although he never entered a show.  I rode my beloved little PeeChee, and later I showed the draft horse, Mac, under saddle.

    But more than my own outside equine activities, my students took part in some of the local horse shows.  They got some treasured ribbons presenting the Miniatures to the public.  I was proud of them.

    Not only do we no longer have the Miniature Horses, nor the draft horses, nor the Exmoor Ponies, but the world has far fewer venues for people to show horses.  Subdivisions have taken many of the places that were once sites for horse events.

    And the insurance company has taken away our right to show our horses in public anyway.  We are restricted to our property, and even than what we can do is extremely limited.

    Talking to an insurance agent, I was told his company blames the lawyers.  

    Whatever.  The United States is a country that points fingers. 

    The bottom line is, people cannot be educated about horses, nor can those of us who own them, share them without Big Brother stepping in. 

    I admit I don't have the energy for the multiple programs that were part of our past, but I would like to think I could pass the torch to others.  Legally, it is doubtful.

    We still attend the Black Diamond Labor Day festivities, as we have done for almost 30 years.  However, gone are the days when we take a mini or two.  Twenty years ago we offered cart rides, and we participated in the parade.  I can still see Donny, our one-time herd stallion, and later our remarkable little gelding, going up and down a series of eight concrete stairs.  I didn't know horses could navigate steps.  Now we participate in the celebration with only a cardboard cut-out horse that looks remarkably like our Arab, Bay.  I hope the insurance adjusters don't decide that is too much. 

    Going to places without a horse in tow is the best we are allowed to do, and sometimes I worry that will be taken away from us, too.

    Yes, I feel diminished, and a little angry - certainly irate.  Horses need to be shared. 

                                                                Peach

    The mission statement at Friendly Horse Acres is: Horses and humans healing each other physically, emotionally and spiritually.  We will fulfill that mission as long as we are permitted.