My Heart Horse

I think most horse people love all of our horses—even the ones we don’t particularly like. 😉 But if you’re really lucky, sometimes you get an extra special one that you connect with like no other. A horsey soul mate, if you will. We call those “heart horses.”

Rhona came into my life in 2006, when I impulsively decided to adopt a PMU mare.

For those who don’t know, PMU mares were used for decades to produce the hormone replacement drug Premarin (the name being a contraction of Pregnant Mare’s Urine). They spent most of their lives in tiny stalls, pregnant, attached to a hose that collected their urine.

In the early 2000s, Premarin was found to cause cancer, so most of the farms were shut down and the mares sent to auction. Since there was very little demand for full-grown draft mares with no training whatsoever, most of them were sold for meat.

A rescue not far from me had just brought a load from Canada, and I immediately fell in love with a photo of a big black Clydesdale named Summer. But when I went to meet her, she wanted nothing to do with me. No amount of coaxing would get her to let me approach.

But as I followed Summer around the pasture, a bay mare followed me. She wasn’t what I wanted—not big enough or flashy enough—so I didn’t pay much attention. Even when she started nudging my back. But then I squatted down in a last attempt to woo Summer, and the bay mare leaned over me and put her head in my lap.

And that was that. I was hers and she was mine, and I’ve never regretted the decision for a second. Adopting Rhona (or Mare #4, as she was known then) was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done on paper, but it was the best thing I’ve ever done for my soul. Getting to watch her learn to be a normal horse, to enjoy all the things that normal horses enjoy, was one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

Adopting Rhona was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done on paper, but it was the best thing I’ve ever done for my soul.

It wasn’t always easy, though. Trying to teach a 12yo, 1300lb, VERY strong-willed horse to do things that are normally taught to babies was more of a challenge than I anticipated. But we were blessed to meet wonderful people who helped us along the way. So many dear friends, both in real life and online, came into my life because of Rhona.

Through those years, a lot of people wondered why I bothered. Why I didn’t sell her and buy an “easy” horse. But the answer was the same from our first day to our last day: Rhona wasn’t my pet, she was my friend. Even when we were struggling, we understood and respected each other on a level I’ve never experienced with another horse.

I used to board her in a pasture with about a dozen other horses. She was always with them at the hay piles when I arrived, and 95% of the time she’d make me walk out there to get her. The other 5% were the days I’d show up sad or stressed or miserable in some other way. Those days she met me at the gate. She’d start walking toward me as soon as I stepped out of my car.

A fellow boarder once told me that if he could pick any horse to hang out at a bar drinking beer with, it would be Rhona. I laughed, but I knew what he meant. She was the kind of horse you could talk to, the kind of horse who would listen. And she listened to me through some very hard times.

That’s why it never really mattered that we didn’t get around to doing most of the things I dreamed we’d do, back when we were young. Just knowing she was happy and healthy and safe was enough to cheer me up on even the worst of days.

She’s the only horse I’ve ever loved that I’m sure loved me back, and I’m incredibly grateful that I was able to give her 16 happy years in exchange for everything she gave me.

Rest in peace, dear friend. Rhona, 1994-2022