During the winter of 2025 I was still leasing, Fly Guy. I was riding him three to four times a week. Fly’s a tall drink of water, 7 hands/almost 2inches tall. (One hand = four inches) I adored his long-legged strides and willing but gentle disposition. He was the perfect companion to turn to after the loss of Roo. What’s more, I began to think of him as mine and hoped that down the road I could purchase him with the funds I hoped I would make from publishing my books.
However, the week before Mother’s Day, I was told by two different back surgeons that the risks of my encountering sustainable physical injuries, should I accidently fall off a horse were dangerously high. Since my laminectomy four years ago, my scoliosis has continued to cause complications that are greatly affecting the vertebrae, now in my neck. In some areas the curvature is so strong it is bending the steel and pushing out screws. If I wasn’t careful, I could end up confined to a wheelchair. For the first time in decades, I didn’t have a horse in my life. Furthermore, I had to face the stark reality of Roo’s death. The hard cold, sober reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I fell into despair, trying to visualize this new identity as a horseless woman.
The morning of Mother’s Day, I was drinking my coffee when all of the sudden I heard a dreadfully loud screaming outside of my front door. Startled, I listened. The screaming stopped then resumed with more urgently. Going outside I saw several crows gathered around my front lawn close to my house. I scanned the yard for a hurt animal and saw nothing. Then the mysterious cry rang forth from behind me. Jumping, I turn around to see what it was.
Clinging to the brick of the house, right by my front door was a tiny, baby squirrel. Immediately, I scooped him up thinking, what are the odds that this little guy, out of all of the homes and people in this neighborhood, found his way to me! You see, am a wildlife rehabilitator! For the past ten years I have worked with the tiniest, often newborn baby animals, nursing them to health and rehabilitating them to the outside life, before releasing them back into the wild to live the life they were born to live. I had decided to give up the practice this year, but apparently, God had another idea in mind. He also knew how to help me ease into my new horseless existence, by filling my hands with a little guy in need.
As if God wasn’t sure that I had gotten the message, an hour after I found my new ward, a rehabber friend, Ronnie, that I hadn’t spoken to in over a year text me saying, “I was just thinking about you!” I called her right away.
“You’re not going to believe this!” I exclaimed then told her about my new house guest.
“I think God is trying to tell you something Ronnie said.” She was correct… He was and is. The following week two adorable baby raccoons came my way, followed by another one.
As the next week progressed, some of my friends at the barn learned about my horse situation and reached out to me, asking if I could help them care for their horses. Before I knew it, my cup was overflowing with a variety of beautiful, loveable horses. Three of them are my editor, Melinda Folse’s horses. Melinda was gone for most of the month of June. I was absolutely thrilled to care for Rio, Sammy, who at the old barn was stall mates with Roo for a while and Trance! Not only do I still have horses in my life, but I’m still able to see some of my good friends at the barn, who, along with the owner and barn manager, have welcomed me to stay and help in whatever way I can. Life is good!
