A Homage to Heart Horses Everywhere

On this National Day of the Horse, I pay homage to Dexter.

My single mother, saddled with serious addiction and mental health issues her entire life, still somehow made sure we lived in the country and I had a horse in my life, no matter how broke we were on her social security disability income (and sometimes that meant no heat, water or gas for the car). And thank goodness she did because it was the rural life and the horses that created the stability that her otherwise lack of parenting skills did not provide.

Dexter wasn't my first horse (an evil little pony named Buttercup was) but he was "the"horse. The horse that taught me almost everything I know about horses. The horse that dried my tears during the hardest moments of my life. The horse that I compare not just every other horse to, but I compare every other being to. He was my heart.

Dexter came into my life from a neighbor girl who had upgraded from his chunky 13.2 hands of pony-ness to a tall, athletic palomino mare. He came packaged with a warning that he was hard-mouthed, didn't trail ride well and would not jump so much as a stick. My 11-year-old self took all of those as a challenge and while we never really conquered his ability to grab the bit and run off like a freight train when he felt like it, we certainly overcame the last two.

My mother "homeschooled" me in 5th and 7th grade, which is to say I did attend school of any kind and I spent my days riding Dexter and reading the random books I ordered from the state library (back in the day when you had to call a librarian in Pierre and could ask for anything and they would snail mail it to you for a month's reading!). I rode him sometimes three or four times a day--we were fit and fabulous by the end of every fall. We took trail rides alone for hours at a time, swam in stock dams and gravel ponds, jumped every obstacle we came across and generally lived life to the fullest as only a middle school girl and her horse can.

In those days of total freedom, Dexter and I re-created every scene from my favorite movies--hurtling down the steepest hill ala "Man From Snowy River", jumping a series of brush fences I built ala "National Velvet" and galloping in the flood waters of the nearby James River ala the beach scenes in "The Black Stallion". And I did most of this insane riding bareback because it was far too much of a bother to actual put a saddle on. I credit him with helping me develop both my vivid imagination and a better seat riding bareback than in any saddle.

Dexter also taught me lessons in patience, politeness and thinking things through. Like the time I went out to the pasture to bring him in to ride on a hot, humid and utterly miserable summer evening. My way of catching him was to simply walk out to where he was in the pasture, jump on bareback and no halter, and he would gallop up to the front gate where I had his bridle waiting. Well, on that particular evening, he decided I needed a lesson in manners because rather than running to the gate, he entered the old sheep barn found in his pasture. This barn had only a narrow, human door to enter and Dexter knew from past experience that for me to fit inside while riding, I had to pull my legs up along his shoulder blades and lay backwards over his hips...which of course I did.

And that's when he stopped in the middle of the door--with the top of the door 6 inches above my chest. I could not sit up. I could not bring my legs down and kick him forward. I could not slide off. I was perfectly immobilized and Dexter knew it. And so he stood there unconcerned with my predicament, with a hip cocked, until such a point he decided my lesson was learned and he walked in the rest of the way. I slid off, thoroughly shaken from my entrapment, and learned that sometimes your horse would like to just chill on a hot miserable day and so you should politely leave him alone and find something better to do.

Another time, I had the bright idea to take one of the old work horse collars found in the barn and teach Dexter to drive. My training plan only extended to attaching the collar to Dexter, some ropes to the collar and the other end to my mom's wheelbarrow. It did not occur to me to think beyond that point. And thus I got into the wheelbarrow, snapped a lunge whip over his back and said "Giddyup"...and giddyup we did.

Dexter took off slowly at first and then realized the rattling metal thing was following him and that spooked him good. He broke into a gallop, which only made the wheelbarrow rattle more and the race was on. It only took a few hard bumps for me to get thrown out and then I was on foot chasing him across the pasture while he ran in a blind panic towards the end. He jumped the fence onto the county road and the wheelbarrow somehow made it over too. Luckily, the river was flooded over the road at that time and the deep water dragging in the wheelbarrow (and subsequent lack of the terrible noise) made him stop. And so it was I learned to plan out each step before I started!

Dexter saw me through my high school years where my mother was committed, losing the farm I grew up on and ultimately moving in with relatives. His black mane and arched neck absorbed many tears and his kind eyes showed the understanding I didn't always feel from others. He was my rock and probably the number one reason I didn't follow a path towards depression, alcohol, drugs or worse. We never had the money for fancy equipment, competitions or lessons but the skills I learned from him, both equestrian and emotional, have served me my entire life and I absolutely would not be the person I am today without him in my life.

When I graduated high school, I free-leased him to a local handicapped riding program where he took his professional skills as a mentor, a counselor and a friend to many more people folks in need. After over a decade of service to that program, he passed away a few years ago, loved by many and forgotten by none. Thank you Dexter, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.