Meet Cheetah.

Cheetah was an appy gelding of unimpressive height, build and appearance. He did boast a loud coat that one either loved or hated. His wispy mane was usually trimmed back. Cheetah was a trail horse, considered “bombproof”. Cheetah lived and worked at a riding stables, where he could be hired out by the hour for trail rides through the network of property owned by the stables. Cheetah was probably there a long, long time.

Here’s a photo of Cheetah with a young girl riding him….

The girl’s mother is nearby, and you can see how carefully the ride is beginning. This was the only horse this girl ever rode at the the stables, where she came every other Sunday. She loved Cheetah, and as they grew familiar with each other, they would race through the woods, knowing each turn in the path. There was another girl who always rode a palomino mare, and the four were found together, for years. After a time, money became tight, and the girl went on to other interests, as happens with young girls. She finished high school, then college, traveled to Europe, moved to New York, and had a career.
But the girl never forgot her friend. Many days and nights she remembered the appy with tears in her eyes and love in her heart. Even though there were no longer any actual horses in her life, they remained in her blood. If ever near a stable, she would stop in, and if hiring a horse for an hour was possible, she did. No horse was ever the same as Cheetah, and there was no relationship to enjoy, but at least it was a HORSE. Dreams have a way of stubbornly finding a way to ‘yop’. Eventually this young girl, as an adult, found a way back to her dream. She walked away from the big city and her career, and founded Rosemary Farm.
Yes, this Rosemary Farm.
So how can I feel badly about riding stables?
But Cheetah might have. Cheetah may have been very unhappy there. I don’t know. I don’t know what his turnout was like during the week, or his care or food, and I don’t know what became of him. I know he worked hard on weekends, but as my parents would say, they worked hard all week! I knew enough to book Cheetah for his second hour each morning, because he wasn’t tired out like he was later in the day, and I could extend my time with him into his one hour break, walking and brushing him. I didn’t know anyone who owned horses where I grew up, so this stable was my only access to the creature from my dreams. Cheetah, for one hour each week, was ‘my’ horse. Cheetah allowed me to ride him, walk him, groom him after our lesson..Cheetah allowed my dream to grow. As it is said, one cannot love what one does not understand. As a child, Cheetah provided me with understanding. As an adult, I now wonder if it was worth it for him. As a hack horse, his life might not have been easy, but I have never forgotten him. I still weep with love when I see his face. And gratitude.

“You look out into the blackened night, where the fields are, and cast a single word onto the moving air, “HORSES!”. It’s a summons, a wish, and a prayer all rolled into one, and it floats out, casting for a dream. Silence. Then the ground whispers, and the drumming begins, increasing in tempo and in force, as your heart quickens in time. Rushing waves in the air precede the band and suddenly in full glory, snorting stamping and glowing, they are around you, 10,000 lbs of horseflesh and spirit….your band, not your possessions but your tribe, and the greet you as one of theirs.”

We’ve received a few cards and notes from Jed’s friends, and some photos, for which we are grateful.Today we received a beautiful painting by a young friend, Olivia, who now raises money for horses by selling her paintings online.
Take a peek at the gift we received;

and on the back she copied one of our favorite horse poems…

We love this painting of Jed, and will keep and treasure it, along with ‘Little Jed’, the beautiful puppet created by our friend Beth.
They are echoes of the horse that was.

Many friends still talk about Jed, and share his story, as they hear about his final chapter with us.
My favorite quote so far, “That horse did more in nine months then most people do in a lifetime”.
We couldn’t agree more.
We miss your smiling face Jed. I still look for you over the hill in the morning, I still listen for your loud chomping, a sound carried and caressed by the wind in our little valley.

(originally posted on FB 12/13/11, 8 am)…
I am not an animal rescuer. I am just like you. I am a person going along life, drawn towards the things that make me happy. But I stumbled upon a horse who needed help. And another. And another. I did not say no. I helped. And then continued to help,. And I won’t stop until my life’s blood has run it’s course, which, to be honest, is increasing it’s flow with the effort. I do not identify myself as an animal rescuer, because my dearest wish is that the long line of creatures needing my help would become shorter and shorter, so that my days could end in peace with my herd.
I am a living being, a member of this planet, and my best gift is to give back all of myself.

Started writing a long blog about history and karma but would rather cut to the chase. I don’t feel like a writer today, just a sad horse owner. Apollo is very sick. He likely has an IBD, which is generally considered fatal. We are learning what we can and exploring possible drugs, but to be honest, he looks like shit. His body looked pretty good for awhile in the summer, not ideal but improving. But since then, he peaked and has declined. His gut is huge, and increasing. He has not developed muscle in his chest and butt. He developed bad rain rot in the fall, the only one in the herd to get it like that. I initially blamed myself for his condition; that I hadn’t done a good enough job on care, or worming or exercise. That I was failing him. Now I wish that were the case.
To try and address his condition, Apollo was wormed again thoroughly and re-checked and is clean of parasites. His skin was treated. He gets extra nutrients. He lives with an active band that all look muscled, except for him. His mane and tail have never started to come in well. By comparison to his half-sister, he is in trouble. His belly continues to grow. I guess I was hoping that he was just more slow to come around, that he would be ok. But if there aren’t worms, or a baby in that big belly, what is there? His exam yesterday answered a few questions.
Our vet performed both a pelvic exam and an ultrasound, to isolate where Apollo’s problems are. Apparently water retention would have been a preferred problem, but Apollo, it appears, has an IBD>, or Inflamed Bowel Disease. Additional blood work is being done to confirm this. There are different versions of these, but basically (my simplistic understanding) is that his body cannot move food along well. It’s all sort of sitting there. And he can’t absorb nutrients well. These issues are quite serious. His lack of absorption explains the lack of muscle and condition. There is one very expensive drug that we can try and see if it helps him, I think it will run about $7 a day. It is worth a try to see if it makes a difference. The immediate concern for him is that he will rupture. More likely, he will begin to feel worse, stand off, begin to not eat. Colic is a concern for horses with this condition. So far he seems relatively comfortable and he is happy with his herd. Since Apollo has never known health, he probably doesn’t even know how sick he is. He is only 4. He has become such a sweet sweet colt in his time here. Starved his entire short life, a life that will not be much longer. That is heartbreaking.
I didn’t feel as connected to Apollo until he left briefly this summer. The experience of being taught to trailer, and going to a new place, showed me how much he trusted me and liked me. Like many here, he is quiet and not always ‘demonstrative’; after all, he is a horse, not a dog. But I was proud that he trusted me, looked to me for guidance and my love for him grew in return.
Honestly I don’t know if this is good karma or bad karma. He is here now, he is home. The futures I had imagined for him must be re-written. He is my horse and he will be my horse now until he dies. At least I can do that for him.