It’s been three months now since I had to put my horse, Fred, down and although the words to write about her sometimes flit through my head, it’s been difficult to sit and write about her because then I have to sit in the loss. But journaling and reliving happy times together is good for grieving hearts and so here I sit on the first Sunday in September to remember … not just a good horse, but a good friend. Fred.

Fred was a mare but when we bought her from the auction in 2002 her name was Bonnie. Her registered name was Safe at Home and as her new owners, we thought we’d like to change that. But let’s go back just a little further, first.

Once upon a time……

I have loved horses ever since I can remember and had my first pony when I was 5. She was a little ornery Shetland pony I named Francis because I had a crush on the little boy in the Little Rascals and I thought this was his name. Some crush, right? Can’t even remember his name….it was Alfalfa. lol You can laugh! I was so young that my mom or dad had to lead her around so I could ride her and I remember waiting all day for my dad to get home so we could go for a walk on my pretty pony. I still remember those rides vividly, me in the tiny black saddle with fancy stirrup guards on the front like the Lone Ranger had on Silver, my dad walking slowly, the lead rope in his hand, and my little 5-year old heart just as happy as could be. I remember sometimes we would talk about horses or life and sometimes we would just walk along listening to the sounds of her tiny black hooves on the gravel road and the sounds of the country surrounding us like a symphony. He helped me learn how to steer her by pulling on the reins and how to ask her to stop or go faster. He also helped me to put on her saddle and bridle.

Eventually I learned how to do this well enough that I was able to ride her by myself. We had a special relationship, me and Francis. I remember one day my mom was with me while I was getting her ready to go for a ride and I had to go to the bathroom. I asked my mom to put the bridle on Francis but when I returned, she said she couldn’t get Francis to take the bit into her mouth. I was flabbergasted that she couldn’t get the bridle on my pony, took the bridle from her and quickly put it on her. I think my mom was as flabbergasted with my ability to bridle her as I was with her inability to do so!

It was a fun thing to have a pony for the other kids in the neighborhood, too, and we would take turns riding her. If they went through the woods, Francis did what all good ponies do and tried always to wipe them off her back by going close to trees and under low-hanging branches. She never did this with me … or at least that I remember, and if she did I probably just took it in stride. I used to jump on her back by running up behind her and vaulting up and over like the Lone Ranger did! My mom used to say I was lucky she didn’t kick me but I would go in front of her, hold onto her bridle, look her in they eyes and say, “Now Francis, you stand still”. She always listened.

There was one day we had her in the yard to eat grass and I ran up behind her while she was grazing. I must have startled her because she in fact did kick me that day. I somehow ended up the hill from her on the ground wondering what happened!

Time for a horse….

When I was eight years old I was getting too big for my pony and a family at our church had a nice Paint horse their boys had lost interest in (they were driving and into girls) and my dad asked if I would like to go see him. When we got there, the poor thing was skin and bones and standing in a barn up to his knees in muck. They put a bridle on him and I rode him around the pasture bareback, of all things. He was a good boy and I think my dad wanted to rescue him, too, so we had a talk at the dinner table. I could get this Paint horse but I would have to find a new home for my pony because we couldn’t afford to keep both. I reluctantly agreed.

For a while we had them both and my new horse, Prince, really loved Francis, and followed her everywhere. One day a very long stock trailer came to pick up my tiny pony Francis. The man was smoking and I was sure he was going to make Francis start smoking, too! My great grandmother was visiting us and I was crying in my bed and sitting on her lap, inconsolable. It didn’t help that I had a very nice horse in the pasture. I remember crying so hard I could hardly breathe properly and my great grandma said, “You’re going to make your Self sick!” I can still hear her voice telling me that.

I was eight years old when I got Prince and had him for 16 years until he died from colic in 2004. He was the greatest friend and we had so much fun together over all those years. I remember our farrier came out with his dog to trim his feet or put shoes on him.

Prince taught me so much and humored whatever I wanted to do….be an Indian and tromp through the woods and creek, or a jockey and race as fast as he would go along the tractor lanes, or a jump rider as he was asked to jump over small logs and fence posts I set up. He spoiled me, really.

I remember always asking my mom if I could bring Prince into the house and one day she actually said “Yes”! I was out the door to get him before she could change her mind! The floor in our family room was actually carpeted concrete so there was no reason he couldn’t come in, right? I led him onto the patio and right through the sliding glass door to our fireplace. He was such a good sport and I remember laughing with glee as he walked through the family room, behind the sofa and lamps on the end tables like he’d been in there a thousand times. He looked around but didn’t seem to be too impressed.

We posed for this great portrait and then I took him back behind the sofa and past the lamps on the end tables and through the sliding glass door….except that he didn’t know what a sliding glass door was and that there was an opening but the other portion that you could still see through was glass. He walked beside me rather than behind me and ran right into the glass door! The look on his face was so great….he was confused as we laughed about that and I petting him to reassure him, then brought him out through the opening.

I remember the vet coming out with his young apprentice to deworm him and stitch up his face when he fell and sliced it open. I remember he had colic during a solar eclipse and the vet came out to give him some meds. We stood under the shade of the trees and suddenly noticed the shadows on the ground were in little crescent shapes and the atmosphere was like dusk.

The last time I saw him was around midnight. I had gone out to check on him and he stood at the fence as I was driving away. I stopped the car and rolled down the window to tell him, “I love you. I’ll see you in the morning.” When I got back to the barn around 5:00 am to check on him, he had died in the night. My heart was so broken and I cried for weeks. He was somewhere in his 30’s and had lived a long and loved life. I miss him so much and years later got a tattoo of him on my back. I also drew a large picture of him from a photograph and it was one of the best horse portraits I had ever drawn. Sadly, that drawing was burned in a house fire where some of my things were stored this past summer.

Finding Fred….

Being all grown up I had my own farm and some horses. I had the great idea of buying a horse from an auction, working with them for a few months and then re-selling them at a profit. This plan was solid….until I bought my first re-sale fail….Fred.

We drove to an auction that was about an hour or so away with horse trailer in tow. The auction was busy and filled with activity. Horse traders talking up their horses to prospective buyers, prospective buyers (like me) listening intently and asking questions while looking the horse over carefully, horses whinnying and listening for a familiar whinny back that was not likely to come, the sound of shod hooves as horses were put through their paces for prospective buyers. There were horses of all sizes, ages, condition, and colors. A small quiet bay horse wearing a large Western saddle caught my eye.

She was a two year old Quarter Horse filly named Bonnie. She had a couple of months training under saddle and so I asked to see her be ridden then asked if I could ride her. I remember being on this small brown horse walking and trotting her through the hustle and bustle of the sale barn atmosphere and she kept her head low and did everything I asked, which were all very simple things. I made a note of her number, handed her seller the reins and said, “Thank you.” Then I told my husband I was really interested in her.

As horses came through the arena and the auctioneer started bidding, hands were flying, horses were spinning, sellers were bringing them in with 5 kids on them, standing in the saddle, or swinging a bucket around them to show potential buyers that this horse was “dead broke” and “kid safe”. Then into the ring walked Bonnie. She was quiet and the bidding started. My husband knew I wanted her and we had agreed that we would only spend $1,000. I don’t remember where the bidding started but I tried to bid as cooly as I could. Eventually, my heart started pounding as we neared the $1,000 price and then went over. $1,100. $1,200. $1,300. $1400. I kept raising my hand and my husband reached around the kids to tap me on the shoulder trying to get me to stop but I didn’t look at him. $1500….the other prospective buyer didn’t raise their hand but I did. “SOLD! For $1,500!” Only then did I look at my husband….I just bought a horse

We went to the office to show our buyer number and pay for our new horse then we went to the back to pick her up and take her home. When we arrived at her trailer, the saddle was now off of her and she looked so small! Her eyes were still soft and kind and I didn’t want to admit it since she was my re-sale project, but I really liked her already. She loaded into the trailer nicely without too much fuss and we were on our way home. Once we got her into the barn, we spent time with her brushing her with the kids and talking to her. She was small but only two years old. “How big do you think she will get?” we wondered together. We talked about how pretty she was and how cute her little ears were. We talked about her name and if we wanted to keep it or change it. We decided to change it but didn’t know to what.

Over the next few days I started to ride her and boy was she smart! It didn’t take any time at all to get her to understand what I wanted and after only a few weeks, I told my husband that she was the nicest and smartest horse and that it would be foolish to sell her. First re-sale fail….check!

We never regretted our decision to keep her and we never went back to the sale barn to get another project for me. I think we both knew we would end up with a barn full of horses in no time if we did! She was soon re-named Fred after a song sung by a comedian about a guy named Fred who rode a horse named Fred, “Fred’s riding Fred”. A friend of ours at the time would always call one of us “Fab Five Freddie” just for fun and so we decided to call her Fred and also to change her registered name when we sent in her papers for change of ownership to Fab Five Freddie.

Fred, a part of the family….

Our oldest daughter was beginning to love horses and so we let Fred become her horse. She took lessons on her with me and when she wanted to learn to ride Western, we had to find a suitable teacher as I taught English Hunt Seat and Western was a whole different Universe. We found a wonderful trainer and had her do some training with Fred to get her going solid in Western and for our daughter. They did so great together and went through all 10 years of 4-H and open shows and when she went off to college, Fred took our youngest daughter through her final years of 4-H. We also had Fred broke to drive and I took her to shows in Indiana, Tennessee and Kentucky. We even went to the Kentucky Horse Park and fulfilled a childhood dream of mine to enjoy the beauty of those grounds with my own horse.

Fred was such a great mare and we decided that we’d like to clone her if at all possible and breed her. Our trainer knew of a great stallion that had sensible babies and so Fred became a mother. We all watched excitedly as her belly grew, wondering if she would have a colt or a filly and what would it look like and of course, what would we name it. As her due date got closer we noticed her udder becoming more full of milk, waxing up, and dripping milk. She didn’t seem like she was ready to foal but we tirelessly checked on her often and finally one night, when the girls had some friends over to spend the night, Fred got noticeably uncomfortable. It was time!

Since it was her first foal we wanted to be there to make sure everything went smoothly for her. She pawed and moved in circles and then laid down on her side and started pushing. Soon a little white sac was visible and we were all standing outside the stall watching and encouraging her. As more and more of the little white sac emerged, I went in to be sure it was two front feet and a nose. The bag was warm and wet and slippery and two tiny feathered, soft hooves were there along with a little horse nose. When the foal was out up to the shoulders, she seemed to be straining with no results, so I took a hold of one of the slippery front hooves and pulled so that the tiny shoulders would shift a bit and allow them to come through was was an even tinier opening into the world outside of Fred.

That did the trick and we encouraged her to keep going and pushing until the little baby horse was no longer inside of her but now with us all. A quick check and I announced, “It’s a boy!” He was very dark, and black with no white markings at all and slowly came to life in this strange new world. I cleared the fluid from around his nose and mouth and he sneezed as he took his first breaths of air and shook his head. Fred didn’t move. She lay there and was still trying to figure out what happened and what she was feeling. When I moved the colt a little and he wiggled and kicked her with his tiny hooves, she raised her Self onto her chest and looked behind her. She looked so surprised but the scent of him reached her and her maternal nature took over and the softest whicker called out to him and said “hello”. She continued to lay there and watch him as we towel dried him a bit and eventually she got up to check him out.

Fred was a great mother and in keeping with a girl horse named Fred, our youngest daughter loved the music of Johnny Cash and she decided we should name him Fred’s Boy Sue and we would call him Sue. So we had Fred who was a girl, and her boy we named Sue.

Watching Fred raise Sue was so fun and magical. She was such a great mother and ran after him and taught him how to be a good boy and to play! They would run around the pasture together and you could tell that she was always keeping an eye on him. Our youngest daughter had a special bond with Sue and spent a lot of time with him. When it was time to wean him it wasn’t easy but they were together again and I think they remembered each other.

Sue was a great little horse for our daughter but he also had a bit of an ornery streak, mostly because he was so smart. She took him to shows, also qualified many times for the Versatility at the 4-H fair, and they did very well together, but then we decided to sell him to some other kids who were just starting out in 4-H and they got along great.

Fred and me….Coming in part 2

……..The interesting thing is that when I lost Fred and thought about losing her, sometimes I called her Prince. That really surprised me but I think it’s because losing her was just as traumatic and part of me was reliving the loss of my first horse so many years ago.