Giving Up

A few of you know -- most of you don't -- that my first equine love was a buckskin mustang mare named Whisper.

It had been three years since my family had to sell our horses, and I was fourteen. The lack of horses in my life weighed on me, so my grandmother called my grandfather, who still had horses, and arranged for me to visit him and ride.

When I got there, I was introduced to a two-year-old mustang, freshly captured, that my grandfather had just bought and was now training. Instantly I loved her; she was everything that a horse symbolized to me: beauty, raw power, intelligence and freedom. Granpa put me on her back and lunged her, then let me loose with the reins. At the end of the day he told me that I could have her -- she would be my horse, and I could ride her whenever I wanted.

I called him two weeks later to arrange another ride, and he told me that he had sold her.

Fast forward four more years. I was eighteen now, and working, and I was determined to get back into horses. I knew my grandfather still had horses at a tucked away, rundown stable in Richmond. I knew roughly what times he liked to feed, so I caught the bus down there, eventually found the stable, and begged him to re-teach me how to ride. He said that there was only one horse available to ride -- a horse that he was training for a client -- but that she was a bit difficult. I told him that I didn't care, I just wanted to ride, and he pointed out the stall of my new partner. I looked in to see the same buckskin horse I'd met four years ago. She didn't have a name back then, but I knew her.

Whisper's owner barely came out to ride her, and she had very little human contact, so she had begun to revert back to being wild, avoiding humans but, at the same time, craving companionship. She'd become testy, but she was well trained, and I was confident that I could help her get over her issues. I came out every weekend and talked to her, putting no pressure on her, brushing her, feeding her and just spending time with her until she began to look forward to my visits. Then I moved to riding her (Granpa still insisted on riding her first, to warm her up and tire her out for me), and we had a few clashes but we worked through it slowly. Eventually I could take her out on trails with Granpa and ride her on my own when he wasn't around. The more I worked with her, the more I fell in love with her.

The first time I met Whisper's owner (a year after I'd started riding her), I was excited. I wanted her to see the progress that I'd made with her, and show her some of the things I noticed about her personality. I was naive and thought that she'd be happy to see how far her horse had come along. However, she brushed me off, wouldn't even talk to me, and went to grab Whisper and put her in the arena. I watched in horror as she hit Whisper over the head with her headstall (bit attached) when Whisper refused to follow her. My first instinct was to take the rope away from her and get Whisper as far away as possible, but I went over and, as calmly as I could, asked her if she needed any help, to which she sharply replied that she didn't. She never did get Whisper in the arena.

I saw the owner "working" with Whisper twice more after that day. Each time she became frustrated and resorted to trying to bully the horse, or hit her with things to try to make her behave. That's when I decided that I was going to buy Whisper. I saved up the money, got the owner's number from the stable manager, and called her to arrange a meeting. I had heared that she was pressed for money, and since I knew that she was a single mother and had no time for Whisper, I figured it'd be pretty easy. I offered to pay her $2500 -- $500 more than she'd bought Whisper for when she was in shape, which she certainly wasn't now -- and, if that wasn't enough, to put that down now and pay off the rest. I was desperate to get this horse. She told me that she knew that she had no time for Whisper, that she'd only been out to see her roughly four times in two years, and that it would be the best thing for Whisper if she sold her, but that she wouldn't because Whisper was "too pretty." She liked her color. She wanted to breed her and get a foal the same color. So, even though the horse was suffering for it, she wouldn't let her go.

I was brokenhearted, but there was nothing I could do. I continued to ride Whisper, but I knew I was just getting more and more attached. And I knew that her owner would come out eventually, beat on her and yell at her, and undo everything I've worked so hard to accomplish. At the suggestion of my mother, I started looking for another horse to buy, but I couldn't see any other horse but Whisper.

One day, Whisper's owner came out with her friend, and her friend's son who was about the same age as me. They had never been around horses before and promised to let them ride. I already had Whisper saddled up to work with her, so I reluctantly handed her off and watched as the son mounted up. Whisper immediately "took off" with him (granted, she was only loping, but it scared him) and he had trouble stopping and guiding her. The owner was frustrated, and asked what was wrong with her. I quietly explained that she was in a snaffle, so plow reining would work better than neck reining (which is what she told him to do), and I offered to show the boy, which she agreed to. After I had showed him, he was able to ride her fine, and he had a really good time. I thought I had been helpful, but the next day I was told that she didn't want me riding Whisper anymore. The manager said I had embarrassed her in front of her friend, and not to worry about it, that was just the way she was.

Three weeks later she moved Whisper without anyone knowing. I asked everyone at the stable if they knew what happened, but no one knew, or else they weren't saying. I was hurt and at a loss. Eventually I bought Maverick, who I love dearly, but I never forgot Whisper, and I cried every time I found a picture of her on my hardrive, or hidden in a book.

Last year P and I were visiting our friends Tony and Donna's house for the first time. The evening was winding to a close, and they asked if I wanted to walk down the street and see the stable that was near them. I never pass up an opportunity to see horses, so the four of us walked down to the city stable to look at the horses. It was getting dark, and we could barely see, but I knew her when I saw her: there was Whisper, stalled just a few feet away. When I saw her I started crying (much to Tony, Donna and P's confusion and concern). I mean sobbing. I'd spent nearly six years searching, aching and worrying for this horse, and suddenly she was right in front of me. I'd told Donna my past with Whisper before, so once she realized what had caused my breakdown, she hatched a plan to sponsor Whisper and find out more information.

Donna sponsored Whisper for a few weeks, and each report she gave me was more disheartening than the last. Whisper had become afraid of people. Clearly abused, she panicked whenever she saw anything that resembled a whip, stick or crop, he was no longer safe under saddle -- she wouldn't stop, wouldn't turn and wouldn't walk, and the stable manager there told Donna to be careful, because she was known to bite and kick at people and that, if he were here, he wouldn't be caught dead on the horse. This was such a far cry from the Whisper in my memory who, although spirited at times, was gentle, well-trained and well-mannered, and safe in just about every situation.

After establishing a relationship with Whisper's owner, Donna found out that she was looking to sell the horse. Donna told her she knew someone who would be interested, and the owner seemed genuinely excited to find out who. When Donna told her who I was, the owner's personality did an about-face; she told Donna that she would absolutely not sell her to me, but would not tell her why. Donna never heard from her after that.

The news was heartbreaking, and for a while afterward I couldn't even talk about Whisper. But I had to accept the fact that, for reasons unknown, the owner would not sell Whisper to me. I had to let it go. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, although something had happened to Whisper to change her opinion of people, she was at least being fed and sheltered and taken care of, which is more than a lot of horses get.

I visited Whisper a couple of times after that. Each time hurt, but it hurt less and less, as I kept reminding myself that she was being cared for. Eventually I could talk about it, and tell everyone that I was over it, although I never was completely.

Then I found Kachina. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't think of Whisper when I saw her. It was part of what drew me to her initially; it wasn't that she looked a lot like Whisper, but that I had the same feeling of instant adoration when I saw her in the trailer as I had when I'd first saw the buckskin mare. Kachina acted as a salve, and I told myself constantly that the reason that I didn't get Whisper was because I was meant to have Kachina.

Yesterday, Donna took Kachina and Fancy up to the stable where Whisper is boarded to have their feet trimmed. Somehow Whisper came up in the conversation, and the trimmer told Donna that he did Whisper's feet too, and what bad shape the horse was in. He said that the owner owed him $400 that she had no way of paying, and that the mare was going lame and no one knew why, that she had a lump on her side that the owner wouldn't have checked by a vet, and that she was looking to give Whisper away to a good home. Donna told him our story -- about how I reacted when I first saw Whisper at the stable, about how she sponsored her and told the owner that I was willing to buy her, and how the owner refused but couldn't say why. She told me that he shook his head angrily, and told her that he could get me the horse, free, if I still wanted her.

Donna made the offer. Here was my dream horse, back in my life for the fourth time. Only now the choice was mine, and it came down to which horse I wanted more, Whisper or Kachina?

I won't say that it was an easy choice. It wasn't even really a choice. I didn't have to think about it, I knew that I wouldn't give up Kachina, not even for Whisper, but that didn't make it any easier to turn her down. I thanked her, and asked her to thank the trimmer too. It was just too late.

Now I'm left to wonder if there's a reason Whisper keeps appearing in my life, only to make me give her up again and again. It's like having a cut on your knuckle: no matter how many times it heals over, inevitably it's going to be ripped open again.

How many times can a heart break over one horse?