As horse people know and understand, horses come and go in our lives. They pass through like birds in the air. But every so often there is one that is a kindred spirit and leaves a hoof print on our hearts. A mark of companionship and love.

The danger of this friendship is that it is made with a mortal animal. When you lose that animal the connection isn’t lost, it just isn’t reciprocated any longer. And therein lies the grief.

A lost partner. A lost friend. Perhaps a future that was ended abruptly.

So you cling to the memories. The fact that you were fortunate enough to have such a companion. One who listened to your troubles and carried them away with their four feet.

My horse was mAJor. Short but stout, he carried me many miles. Through forests and fields, over rocks and hills. He was my friend. His passing came unexpectedly, a life cut short.

I’ve spent time reflecting on our relationship. Our memories are intertwined with the huge upheavals in my life. The good and the bad, he was always there for me, until now.

From AJ to mAJor

His original name was AJ. A registered Halflinger. While I don’t know much about his early life, other than he ran with cows for quite some time, I do know he was gentle.

I first met him at a therapeutic riding barn, where he had been used as a therapy horse. He wasn’t quite right for them but was perfect for me.

I purchased him and brought him to the ranch I worked at, our stories becoming intertwined. I promised him I would give him a home for as long as he lived. I’m thankful I lived up to that promise.

I did decide to change his name and settled on mAJor, to incorporate his old name. I felt mAJor suited him and we settled in as horse and rider.

We spent several hot summers leading trail rides at camp. He was slow, steady and stubborn. But he didn’t refuse me. He sometimes tried to find a way around what I was asking but he did his best to do what I needed.

I spent many hours in the saddle and was very thankful for a short horse getting up and down so often to open gates and help kids. He was the kind of horse that would stand quietly at the end of a lead rope while I helped a child. Or I could trust to let small children brush.

Manitoba Pony

When my life took an unexpected turn, I left him behind to teach in Manitoba. I couldn’t be without him though and he soon followed me to a small acreage. There we learned about ticks and sore feet and Manitoba winters.

Some of my happiest memories are of sitting on him bareback, watching the cars go by on the road. The Manitoba wind would whip through his mane as I sat and contemplated life.

He got to meet my boyfriend, who became my fiancé and husband. He got to meet our puppy. We took adventures down the road. He let the cats lick coconut oil off his hooves.

He was a constant companion for me and I loved being a horsewoman. As life went from being unknown to planned, he was the steadying friend who greeted me when I got home.

My life changed again after I got married and we moved to Northern Saskatchewan. The north is not friendly to horses so I had to leave him behind again. Thankfully I had a friend who could look after mAJor and he roamed the rolling green pastures of Manitoba with some new field mates (and some cows!).

I saw him less often but was able to share the news of my pregnancy with him. I trusted him to carry me and baby safely through the fields because that’s the kind of horse he was.

Ontario, Again

We saw him one more time in Manitoba, introducing him to baby E before our lives changed again and we headed back to Ontario.

I couldn’t leave mAJor behind so once we were settled, he returned to the ranch where he had once been.

I saw him even less now. I was pregnant with my second, we moved and renovated a house and life continued to go by faster and faster.

E was able to ride him a few times. mAJor stood as quiet as could be and walked him around and around. I swelled with pride as that pony was so gentle with his precious cargo.

He stood quietly again a year later when my now three-year-old groomed him and my one-year-old sat fearfully on his back. Then he walked carefully around the corral, teaching my son the basic riding skills (mostly “whoa”)

The best thing was, as soon as I stepped into the saddle, he became the horse I knew. A spring in his step, ready to go where I wanted. It felt like home. Old muscles remembering what to do. Old memories of cantering through fields.

I wish I had known that October ride would be our last. I would have done one more circle, cantered one more time. But we don’t know when the last ride will happen.

The c-word for horses, colic, can happen at any time.

In my mind, I still had 5 or 10 years with mAJor. He would teach my boys to ride, carry them around and enjoy his retirement. I hoped to do more trail rides with him, spend time grooming him and decorating him for Christmas.

Time has a way of giving us false hope though. What is here today may not be here tomorrow.

I trust God’s plan though. God gives and he takes away. He gave me mAJor when I didn’t know I needed him. My pony became a confidant and steadying force during turbulent times. He was in many ways, my therapy horse.

And God takes away when it is time to move on. I may not be ready but I can trust in God’s decisions and will lean on him for comfort. I will still cry because I lost a friend and a future I thought we would have. But there are tears of joy, stories that make me laugh and a heart filled with love.

So long, my friend. Thank you for carrying me across the country and being a steady companion. You will always have a place in my heart.

– Alyssa

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