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.
Nutkin, moments after he was rescued from the crows. He has since been rehabbed and released.
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!
Roo & Me on my property in Colleyville. At the time, I was performing in a stage production of “Nine,” in Dallas.
A disease called Cushing’s or Pituitary Pars Intermedia Disfunction (PPID) is commonly found in older horses. PPID is caused when a small area located at the base of a horse’s brain called the hypothalamus, malfunctions. The hypothalamus is connected to the stalk of the pituitary gland. Despite its small size, it has a big job because it regulates the physiological functions in a horse’s body by linking the nervous and endocrine systems together and keeping them functioning in sync.
Malfunctions within the hypothalamus happen when oxidative stress and additional damaging factors, prohibit the neurons within the hypothalamus from functioning normally. Suddenly, the pituitary gland is left unregulated. It malfunctions and begins to over produce hormones.
Oxidative stress is caused by an imbalance between the oxidant and antioxidant levels in a horse’s system. These imbalances are generally seen in horses who are professional athletes partaking in strenuous endurance and other intense competitions and are the key reason why it’s accentual to maintain a good level of balance between a horse’s exercise and a well thought out dietary plan that meets their metabolic needs, meaning a diet rich in minerals, vitamins, enzymes and proteins. When a horse’s metabolic system is balanced, the horse is less apt to experience oxidative stress.
Roo and Me at our last stable, my daughter Juliann took this photo of us.
Cushing’s, PPID, not only affects the metabolic system. It also affects the functions in the adrenal glands, immune system, digestive system, reproduction system, musculoskeletal system and finally the nervous system.
As a horse enters the natural aging process, which usually begins when a horse is in its late teens, progressing into their twenties and thirty plus years, the probability of them contracting PPID significantly increases.
In 1956, scientists developed a theory called the “free radical theory of aging.” This theory also applies to humans! The theory suggests that as we age, our metabolic systems begin to decline. This decline causes the build-up of “free radicals” within the metabolic cells, where nutrients are broken down and converted into energy. Over time, the metabolic cells are damaged, which leads to oxidation stress. The damages not only contribute to the age-related decline in both people and horses, but it also spawns a variety of additional health complications. All equine breeds and genders are susceptible to PPID which is the most common endocrine disease in aging horses. In people, it’s diabetes.
Roo with his mare, Suger, on the day we meet, over 26 years ago.
For several months Roo was turning up lame every time I had his hooves trimmed. At first, I thought that my farrier was trimming his soles too close. But the problem only became more extreme. I called my vet and had him x-ray Roo’s hooves. Doc Murphy took one look at him and immediately suspected Cushing’s. (I have to interject that another vet, who had just given Roo his annual inoculations and exam, didn’t notice the symptoms, which stresses the importance of us as horse owners to educate ourselves and build our awareness to the possibilities of PPID! And by the way, I fired that vet.)
Immediately Dr. Murphy drew blood samples for testing. On the following Monday, he called me with the tests results—Roo definitely had Cushing’s!
To my absolute distress and regret, I didn’t catch it or have any suspicions that Roo might have PPID! This stemmed from my own lack of knowledge and by sharing my story, I sincerely hope that other equestrians managing aging horses, will research PPID so they can identify the early symptoms.
The problem for me was, Roo wasn’t presenting with the symptoms that I associated with Cushing’s. Roo had shed his winter coat normally the spring before, which is something a horse struggling with advanced Cushing’s cannot do. Second, his fur wasn’t long and curly, another sure sign. However, what he was struggling with was laminitis. Laminitis is a painful condition that causes the Velcro-like laminae tissue of the inner hoof to separate from the coffin bone. Roo and I knew the condition well. We had successfully battled laminitis for at least fifteen years.
Immediately following his diagnosis, I began to research PPID and was truly shocked by how little I actually understood about the disease. The more I learned about the symptoms, the more I saw them reflected in Roo. Not only was I troubled by my lack of knowledge, but it was also a great embarrassment too, because I had never really researched the disease before. I had literally closed the gate after the horse escaped.
At our new stable where, once again, we were happy.
Over the last few years scientific research on PPID has significantly taken off. We’ve learned that reduced levels of dopamine are involved in the development of the disease. Genetics also plays a major factor. More research is being done on the connection between PPID and laminitis. As a result, veterinarians are now able to detect the disease earlier and treat it quicker. And with new medications and stringent diet balancing, horses with the disease can live happily for several more years.
I was always of the frame of mind that Roo would live at least into his thirties! He was my soulmate horse, a true and noble companion, full of delightful antics and playful fun. He was my heart. In all honestly, my vets and fellow equestrians couldn’t believe that he was pushing twenty-six years, because he looked young and healthy. The only thing that gave his age away were the gray hairs sprouting under his mane and forelock.
Two weeks before he was put down.
In cutting myself some slack, it helped me to understand that the first, early-stage indications of Cushing’s in a horse are very subtle. The changes in their bodily systems advance slowly and silently. By the time the most obvious signs appear, the curling and un-shedding of their coat, the horse has reached the advanced stages of the disease.
On the Monday that I learned about Roo’s diagnosis, Doc and I scheduled an appointment for him to come out on the following Thursday in the afternoon, to check me out on the medication Roo needed. However, I was absolutely stunned when over the passage of the next two days Roo’s condition rapidly deteriorated before my eyes. In addition, with each passing hour his body mass changed.
It was absolutely alarming! Fatty deposits and broken-down muscle formed significant bulges under his skin. These bulges literally resettled in new locations as the hours passed. He was sick and could hardly stand let alone take a step. I would arrive at the stable to find him lying down and sit beside him, relishing the unspoken but present love that ties us together.
My last afternoon with Roo
About 15 years ago, Roo and I had fought a long, horrible battle against laminitis and won! But that’s a story for another time. For now, I could tell by the look in his eyes that it was time to free him from his pain and release him to graze in the heavenly pastures, where several other horses within our family, Rose being one, his mama mare Sugar being another, will greet and welcome him home.
Managing an animal’s death is just as important as managing their life!
I took both of the above videos while Roo and I were waiting for Dr. Murphy to arrive.
Throughout the years, I’ve repeatedly asked God, that when I pass on and enter heaven, I don’t want to see people first. Instead, I want to see, be greeted by and spend as much time as I want only with my horses and my golden retriever Daisy. I want to tell them all of the things I couldn’t communicate here on earth. Apologize for the things I did wrong, but mostly express to each of them how absolutely, deeply I have (and still) love them. But in my heart, I believe that they already know.
Moments before Roo was put down.
And so… close to the end of October 2023, in a lush, shaded autumn setting, next to a quiet pond, Roo and I spent our last fleeting moments together on this earth. And while I was with him the Psalms 23 ran through my head…
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters…
Roo’s favorite trick, bowing.
For several nights after Roo passed I sept with his halter and bridle. To this day it hangs on a hook adjacent to my desk. It still smells like him. Although he is no longer physically with me, he’s sweet presents still lingers, his soul is still attached to mine. Along with Rosie and my other beautiful equine babies and I can’t forget my beloved golden retriever, Daisy. And even though my animal family members have pierced my heart when they passed, I have been so richly blessed by all the years we spent together, connected and enjoying life.
Ruach Sel Shalom (Roo) at five months old, at my Colleyville pasture. The year was 1999.
Years ago, I knew of, a woman who saddled up her beloved horse and took him into an outdoor riding arena to enjoy the afternoon. After riding him like a pro, through the paces of a trot and canter, she brought him to a walk and cooled her horse down by walking him along the arena’s rail. Eventually she brought her horse to a complete halt so they both could rest while taking in the beautiful day.
An hour or two later, people began to notice that her horse hadn’t moved, nor had the women. Concerned, a few of her fellow barn mates hurried down to the arena to check on her and found that she had quietly passed away, astride her horse, in the embrace of an extraordinary day. I personally believe that all of the beloved horses from her past, horses that she had diligently cared for and ridden, until they pierced her heart by passing into the grazing pastures of heaven, were waiting for her when she crossed over.
For me, and many of my equestrian friends there couldn’t be a more perfect way to end our time on this earth! To simply slip away peaceful while sitting on your horse! From the time I heard this true story, I prayed that my passing would be the same. But as fate would have it, that will not be the case.
My first experience with having to give up horseback riding happened one year and three months marking my recouperation from an extremely serious back surgery called a laminectomy to correct rapidly debilitating scoliosis. I underwent an eight-hour procedure, where portions of my spine were removed in order to straighten it.
For years I refused to have this surgery because of the lengthy healing process, which I was told would keep me away from my horses for a good six months and out of the saddle for a year. Prior to having this surgery, I researched other riders who had gone through the same procedure and blogged about their recoveries. One Competitive Eventer was able to start training a year later and in just six months she had achieved her previous daily training goals for distance riding. Piece of cake, I thought!
However, one year later to the day, I mounted my horse Starlight, to discover that I could walk her, but riding a trot was absolutely excruciating! I didn’t expect this, and it threw me for a loop. My entire recovery process had centered around the goal of getting back into the saddle. After all, a year had passed.
I am a woman who is well conditioned in tolerating extremely high levels of pain. Pain, particularly when it’s chronic, is something you grow a tolerance to. For me, this process of adapting began when I was two years old and undertaking classical ballet training. I danced for the first quarter of my life, but during my tender years, my training resulted in problems with my feet, and a hip joint that was pulled out of its socket and grew that way.
Horse related accidents have contributed greatly to my ability to tolerate pain. Broken fingers, toes, ribs and a particularly nasty accident I had on my horse Janie that broke my sacroiliac joint in two. The break wasn’t misplaced, so the radiologist didn’t catch it on the x-ray. For two years I rode adjusting my position because I was in so much pain. I blamed the pain on a recent hip replacement; I wasn’t surprised when three years later an MRI revealed that the sacroiliac joint had not healed and was still broken in two.
After my back surgery, I was determined to persevere with my recovery, so I continued to ride Starlight but only at a walk. Although this beautiful mare didn’t understand why I insisted on only walking, she submitted to my insistence. Starlight had an inbred spirit that drew me to her in the first place. For years she competed as a Reiner and was exceptionally talented. She spined on a dime, which was pure fun to ride. Her coat was a beautiful, dappled gray and we adored each other.
Following my laminectomy, Star and I walked the entire grounds surrounding our stable, until one day, I made a stupid decision which resulted in my falling off. There have been many occasions in my life where I have been my worst enemy, this was one of them. The fall broke my glenohumeral or shoulder joint, in two. Again, I was facing a lengthy recovery and had to give up riding.
During this period, a series of events were taken place at the sweet little stable where I boarded my horses. My friend Tommy, who had stepped into his father’s shoes and run the stable for thirty plus years, retired. Our board of directors brought in and supported a new manager and her husband and almost instantly, the conditions and safety aspects took a downward spiral. Horses were being deliberately injured and although some of these incidents were caught on video, from cameras installed in our stalls, no one was held accountable. And that was the least of our worries!
Dude & Starlight
I had found good homes for my horses Dude and Starlight. So on June 6th, Roo and I left this facility along with almost half or more of the boarders, to settle at the amazing stable where I am now. From the moment I stepped into this stress-free pleasant stable, equipped with everything a serious horse lover and performance equestrian need, I felt a newfound freedom that drastically contrasted with the downfall of the other place. Some of my friends were already at the new stable when I arrived and over the passage of the past year, almost all of my friends from the other facility have joined us!
My new stable has excellent trainers in both western and eastern disciplines. I immediately began to take lessons with my friend and trainer, Liz, riding her outstanding and bullet proof horse, Papaya. It was exhilarating, particularly on the first morning we went for a trail ride.
Our stable has over 130 acers of rideable trails that I was sure I would never see. On occasions I led Roo on walks to explore some of them, but walking Roo, was nothing compared to riding those trails, crossing through the meadows, stone covered river, taking slopes up and down, and exploring the wooded areas. After that ride, I felt alive! I began to lease Fly Guy in mid-September and was riding him regularly. And then unexpectedly, Roo died. For the first time in decades, I didn’t own a horse! I’m still struggling with that reality.
At Rocky Top, when I first began riding Rosie, we pretty much had the pasture to ourselves, which allowed us opportunities to gallop without riling other horses to join us. Several months later, I began to see new horses in the pasture, which was fine, as long as they left Rose and me alone. What I mean by this is horses tend to move as a herd, so when one decides to run, generally a few others will join in on the fun, which can turn into a dangerous situation, one I wasn’t ready to risk.
One late afternoon, while Juliann had riding therapy and my boys played, I had separated Rose from the herd and was warming her up at a brisk trot. She was moving to a nice, rhythmic beat, when unexpectedly she bolted into a sidestep.
What in tarnation was that all about? I wondered.
As soon as the question entered my mind, she did it again, this time pivoting around with her ears pointed, nostrils flared, eyes wide, snorting heavily as if trying to rid herself of an offensive smell.
There, standing to the side of us stood a little donkey, looking very forlorn and lonesome.
As my heart went out to the little guy, Rose continued to snort, staring at the donkey with utter distaste. I gave her a reassuring pat, turned her around and signaled for her to trot forward. She sidestepped the first few steps, keeping her eye on the donkey, before easing into a nice pace.
I was enjoying myself immensely, when suddenly, she bolted again, pivoting round to stare at the donkey who was following us.
Great, I thought. I positioned Rose, so she could get a better look. She merely snorted in distaste, backing up while the donkey watched, looking very rejected. I turned Rose asking her to go forward again. She did so, prancing like she was walking on hot coals. The donkey trotted after us. Rose stopped, pivoted to face it and pooped, body quivering.
After having enough of these shenanigans, I asked Rose to canter, which she willingly did, taking a commanding lead far away from the donkey, who watched us from the other end of the pasture. However, out-of-sight did not mean out-of-mind! Rose held her body taunt and was skittish, making our ride unpleasant. I, on the other hand, was determined to enjoy the afternoon. I forced myself to relax in the saddle, believing the donkey was no longer a threat. Besides, it seemed a shame to waste a beautiful afternoon.
Several minutes later, I was completely relaxed. Rose too was calm and had dropped her nose to graze. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the donkey. It had worked its way through the woods to where we were. In an instant, Rose bolted into a full gallop, leaving me momentarily suspended in the air for a few fleeting seconds before I crashed hard to the ground. This was the first and only time Rose ever threw me. I sat on the ground with the donkey watching me.
Needless to say, I learned to humor my horse. We stayed out of that pasture while the donkey was there. Likewise, I learned that any animal other that a horse, dog, cat, bird and occasional bunny, was perceived by Rose as a horse eating monster. Oh, she hated puddles of water too although we worked through that one!
If a trail took us to a field that had a donkey in it, I would have to dismount, cross the roadway and lead my jittery horse who practically pranced on the toes of her hooves past the poor donkey. When I moved her to a stable in Roan, the road that led to the riding trails passed a farm that actually raised and bred miniature donkeys. You would have thought the world had come to an end!
Thunder and lightning boomed across the sky, illuminating my room, disturbing my sleep. Another loud crack bellowed, and the sky released a deluge of rain. I snuggled deeper into my pillow, wondering if we were getting a classic, Texas, thunderstorm. My house was quiet; husband, still sleeping, seemingly untouched by the noise. I wondered if my children were awake too and like me, snuggling into their pillows hoping to fall back asleep. My thoughts turned to my horse, Rose. She hated thunderstorms! Recently, we had bought our property based on a barn where we could keep her in our backyard. We had only recently moved her to her new home, and I was worried that Mother Nature’s racket was upsetting her.
Another, menacing crack of thunder pierced the silence. Rolling over I checked the time; four o’ five in the morning. My spirits dropped, it’s too early to get up! Yet I was awake; wide awake. With my eyes shut, I listened to the measured sounds of the rain pelleting my house, with slivers of lightning periodically lighting my room. Again, my thoughts turned to Rose and I was filled with concern, wondering how she was fairing in her stall. Careful, not to disturb my husband or the sleeping cats at the foot of our bed, I slipped out from under the covers, padding in my bare feet to fetch the hooded cloak I wear when it’s raining outside. Our house was quiet and very dark as I donned the cloak, pulling the hood over my head. Slipping into my rubber boots, with a carrot and umbrella in hand, I left the warmth of the house stepping outside to the back porch.
Despite the dark and rain, a tangible peace had settled upon our land. I walked across the backyard, holding the umbrella over my head, sloshing through deep puddles that had already formed. The worst of the thunder and lightning had dwindled, allowing the rain center stage. The only sound breaking through the noise from the rain, was the crunch of my boots against a gravel walkway leading to the barn. I was certain Rose could hear me approaching, yet she didn’t nicker her usual greeting. It wasn’t until I opened the barn door and stepped inside, that she raised her head happy to see me and nickered, as if to say, I’m so glad you’re here!
The barn was cozy and dry, very inviting, with an earthy smell of hay and horse mixed with rain. Rose, not a bit disturbed by the storm, nuzzled my hand for the carrot. Breaking it into small pieces, I fed it to her, enjoying the way she begged for each bite. After the last bite was devoured, I fetched a pail, carrying it into her stall. Setting the pail to rest upside down by a gate separating Rose’s stall from the pasture. I sat on the pail, staring at the pasture through the cross beams of the gate. Rose continued to nuzzle me for bits of carrot. Eventually, she grew bored from her fruitless effort and turned with a sigh to hand her head over the top of the gate.
Together, we looked into the dark, for several minutes, simply still. From the stillness came that inner small voice, with the Lord’s words, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” Immediately, peace entered my soul. His words ministering to the day-to-day issues I was facing in my life. Issues as tremulous as the onset of the rainstorm, leaving me ragged with worry. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. I thought of His words, “Be still and know that I am God!” There is rest to be found in being still.
Roosters started crowing off in the distance. Their off-key harmony was amusing. A few minutes later threads of pink appeared in the eastern sky. As if a conductor had cued an orchestra, birds begin to sing. My pasture looked how I imagine the Yorkshire Dales in England might look like on such a morning. Rich, vibrant green grass, sodden with rain. A fine veil of fog blurring the lines to the fenceposts and jumping standards, softening the land.
Rose had moved to a corner of her stall, hanging her head close to the ground, her eyes half shut, lower lip loose. Her body was silhouetted against the early light. Her white blaze literally glowed against the contrast of her chestnut fur. Walking over to her, I wrapped my arms around her neck, burying my face in her mane. Her body was warm against the morning chill. I stayed with her for several minutes, taking in her sweet horsey smell. And then I noticed… the first streaks of dawn. One of the Purple Martins had left his nest and was perched on the rim of the birdhouse. Another, just peeked its head out, as if evaluating the rain, which had dwindled to a light mist. Daylight was near, but its appearance was an evasion upon my seclusion with my horse. I wasn’t ready to part with the memory of the morning-night!
Kissing Rose’s nose, I bid her goodbye and left the barn, making my way back to the house. As I slipped inside, the house was still quiet, my family soundless, including the cats, who hadn’t moved since I left. Carefully, I crawled back into bed, cuddling close to my husband. Reflexively he wrapped an arm around me. I felt myself surrendering to sleep, holding the memory of the barn, the future for the day. It would be a lazy day, we had nothing planned, we could rest. Outside, the rain fell harder. Its rhythmic beat was soothing. I drifted off with my mind full of His peace.
It was the first cool day of fall, bringing an end to summer’s blazing heat. I was riding my beautiful gray, Quarter Horse, TJ. Refreshed by the crispness in the air, TJ was very frisky and when I asked him, he eagerly slipped into a canter. As we circled the pasture, the exercise inspired him and he begged to run faster. I let him. Soon, we were galloping through the grassy hill, cheered on the whistle of the wind and thunder of his hooves. TJ’s impulsion filled me with exhilaration. I marveled at the massive power and his willingness to obey my commands.
Transitioning back to a trot, TJ pranced in long strides with his tail held high, a display of his pleasure. I began to take note of the beauty around us. The pasture was full of little yellow flowers, covering the ground like a blanket. The golden sun had begun its lazy decent into the horizon. The smell of fall scented the air.
As TJ and I began to walk, his sides heaving from his exertion. A film of sweat coated his neck and his nostrils were flared. His snorts seemed to acknowledge his approval of “time well spent.” Taking in his sweet horsy smell, I loosened the reins, giving him his head. He came to a halt and dropped his nose amidst the flowers to graze, while I shielded my eyes from the sun beaming through tree branches. As he grazed, TJ shifted his weight from one leg to another. I was filled with great contentment. Euphoric from the ride and the nip in the air, so refreshing after a long, hard summer full of Texas heat. Life in that moment was perfect. My boys were exploring the ranch. Juliann was happily engaged in a session of horseback riding therapy. I found myself conversing with God.
Lord, I thought, This is so lovely. I don’t see how heaven could be better than this moment!
My thoughts went on like this for a while, until it was time to lift TJ’s head and reluctantly head back toward the barn. As we were walking, these words came to my mind, In heaven, you won’t need a saddle or bridle!
