Promises

I once owned an amazing horse. He was amazing because even though I’d known him for most of his life, he was always surprising me with his presence. There was nothing normal or simple about him, he was spectacular. It wasn’t because he was fancy or well-bred or well-trained, it was because — well, I can’t even explain it all.

Alibi was a nothing horse in concept. I’ll never know the motivation behind him being born. His dam has no show record and no winners in her pedigree for two generations. His sire had his ROM in Reining. Alibi wasn’t bred to win World Championships. He came into existence because I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Certainly, Alibi was not born with the intention to be my horse.

There are horses in the world born out of nothing who, with the right training, become superstars. Alibi managed to be a superstar without the right training. His training didn’t begin until he was 3 when he was finally gelded. And from there on his only training was me. He suffered my uneducated leg, half-assed attempts at pretending I was Monty Roberts, and trying to emulate videos of Hunter Under Saddle horses. If it wasn’t for the summer I spent doing rigorous Dressage lessons, Alibi would have become a lost cause.

It was hard and didn’t always follow a moral standard. We spent three years regularly bolting, spooking, and bucking around the show ring. I used draw reins, neck stretchers, and harsh bits to get him to behave how I wanted. It was common knowledge that I had a tactic to swing my crop around faster so I could hit him harder. From the ages of 4 to 6 I treated him like he was too stupid to understand when really, he had never been taught. I begin to tear up when I think of how I treated him then. I was a bad rider and a cruel person.

Yet, something inside that little horse believed that I was better. Through all my mistakes, Alibi trusted me and through that trust learned. He was a superstar on the ground, trailered like a pro, and was safe enough for my 4 year old niece to ride by herself. Something about him wouldn’t let my bad behavior sink in.

It wasn’t until the end of our early time together that he showed me not that I had trained him well, but that he was a saint among mortals. Our placings improved, we won over fences, we won on the flat. He was six years old and finally mature. I remember our last day at Fair, a Monday; I schooled him in the morning and then cried in his stall. I said my goodbye and kissed his nose. I remember crying the entire drive from the fairgrounds back to my house. I promised him that one day he would be my horse and that I would never let him go, that he would spend his last days with me. One day.

For three years I saw him on and off.  When I visited Youngstown, the first thing I did before even going home was go see him. His behavior drastically declined as he was ridden less and less. He began rearing and bucking at the slightest provocation. His coat was dull, his mane was long, and he was skinny. He was angry at me every time I saw him; he would bite me and pin his ears. I never stopped missing him.

I learned that Alibi was for sale at the end of my 3rd year in college. He had become too useless and was losing money. I grieved that he may be sold completely out of my life. I mourned the loss of my friend; it was certain to me that he could never make anyone happy. He was a nothing horse in concept: too lazy for a beginner, not fancy enough for a better rider. His inevitable future was that he would be passed around the 4H circuit or burned out in a lesson program, passed down to worse and worse hands. I’ll never know if this would have been true, because I put my life savings into buying him.

He was born because I was luckiest girl in the world. I promised him I’d own him one day. And I promised he’d die with me. I was lucky enough to call him legally mine for 17 months before I made good on my promise. I kept all my promises to him.

I’ve been pondering if I want another horse. Nothing, NOTHING could equal the love I shared with him. I don’t want to simply own a horse, I want to be in love with a horse. I’m not at a point in my life where I could train another horse, but I don’t want a horse that someone else has put their mistakes and sweat into. Part of the reason I loved Alibi was because he was what I had made him. I’m hoping one day to fall in love with another sob story or a horse without a cause.

 

 

And I apologize for being a teenager about his passing, but I’ve always said I’m a 12 year old girl when it comes to him.

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