Kathy brought you home on a summer afternoon. You would be the third wheel in the barn , but when you got out of the trailer, I did not doubt that you could take care of yourself and Kathy. You only showed me a dark side once, but that was my fault for forgetting how you liked your space when you ate your grain. My scream of pain was enough to deter you from ever doing it a second time. You made it to clinics, shows, and the long trip to Nationals. I would ask you to take care of Kathy, and you always came through. I could holler your name across the pasture, and you would come running unless the grass and the temperature were perfect.
My relationship with you was one of trust, including the look that only another horse person would understand that combination of love and caregiving in those kind eyes. I learned you were a great listener when we walked for hours one long, cold winter evening when you had colicked. You never misbehaved when Scott the Ferrier was putting shoes on, and even with your deteriorating suspensory, you still tried to lift your leg and remained calm and trusting. Kathy has said that her animals pick her, and watching you two perform or hang out was always visually magical. The timing of us getting old together was perfect. We both had the same attitude about the ridiculous idea of being in a hurry for anything except eating. At one time, you were an unbelievable athlete. When you were groomed and ready to show, you were something to behold. I have enjoyed my retirement and have no doubt you have enjoyed yours. It’s been an honor to be part of your existence on our small farm. Not a morning will pass that I will not think of you cantering in from the pasture doing a few dressage changes just because. The connection has been completed, and time has come to let you run full out , throwing your head as if you are the stallion of your youth. Fly, Miko
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