This story will have nothing to do with bikes, skiing, or climbing. Instead, it concerns a large piece of my past life as an equestrian, which I'll wager that the vast majority of friends I've met after high school do not know about at all. It's difficult to explain to someone who may not have ever had an animal, but a horse can become something like part of the family after so many years and experiences together, and their quirks in personality endear them even further.
As a typical horse-crazy young girl, I started filling my piggy bank at the age of 3, saving up for a pony someday. Riding lessons followed not too long after, and when I reached the age of 9 my parents decided I was experienced and still interested enough for a horse of my own. I remember only getting excited about one other horse--also a dun colored quarter horse--but Peaches was smaller and more my size as a skinny little kid. Despite being only 3 years old she was amazingly calm and collected for the most part. Indeed, she had her moments, and I learned to hang on tight in order to avoid being launched occasionally, but it made me a darn good rider.
The next 10 years were filled with so much learning, training, and many good times at shows. From hunter over fences to 4-H, 3-day events and more, she was absolutely fearless and would jump over anything that was not too tall for her short legs and stocky quarter horse body. There were parades, costume classes, and even a pie eating contest. Many awards were collected over the years in all disciplines, including at the Washington State Fair at the top level of 4-H competition. Her color and cuteness nearly always caught the judge's eye and she had become so well behaved in such a short time that I could focus on my riding without any worries. She was also my closest confidant, and I could cry on her neck and tell her about whatever inner turmoil I was experiencing. Her response was a look of quiet understanding, a nuzzle for treats, and a reminder that I had the best pony a girl could ever want; usually all the comforting that I would require.
She also taught me the responsibility that comes with caring for such a large animal: daily stall cleaning, feeding twice a day, and consistent exercise. Training her required consistency, caring, and firmness as required. There were times early on when she would take off running for no apparent reason in the show ring, leaving me in tears and regretting getting such a young horse. I would have to collect myself and move on. She more than made up for it later on by becoming the greatest pony imaginable, doing everything that I would ask of her, and I was so happy to have all that hard work come together. It was really something to compete in the ring with so many horses costing thousands of dollars more, and little Peach would do just what she needed to do to make me look good in any 4-H class. As docile as she was otherwise, she still maintained a sassy attitude when another horse got into her space, leaving me and my 4-H friends with some very amusing stories.
As so many of these horse-crazy girl stories go, I couldn't bring Peaches with me when I went off to college. The horse craze was slowly being replaced by bicycles which were much easier to care for. Instead of selling her right after my last 4-H season, my parents kept her at our little farm and grew more and more attached to her as a family pet. It became obvious that this was now her retirement. She had their dedicated care and feeding, and was able to graze in the pasture or on the front lawn nearly every day. I eventually only made it home once a year for the past 4 years, always in the gloomy rainy time of year, but I would always try to spend a little time visiting with Peaches, though it never seemed like enough.
This past winter I was not feeling too well when I visited home, but the sun came out one day and it seemed like time to stroll up to the barn to say hello. She was outside grazing, and as usual, she ignored me until I presented some treats. I did some calculating--she's getting up there in years, close to 24 years old, and she may not be around for a whole lot longer. I figured on at least a couple more years though since she still seemed quite healthy; pondering this I removed her blanket and started brushing her coat. I finished brushing and draped myself over her neck, breathing the horsey scent that brought back so many memories. Finally I put her blanket back on, gave her another treat, and kissed her goodbye on the nose. I had hopes of a spring or summer visit this year and maybe a little bareback ride around the pasture, but that was to be the last time I saw her.
Last night, completely unexpectedly, a phone call came from home. Fortunately it came after dinner and Kit and Pork Chop were there to comfort me. While out at pasture that day Peaches had somehow broken her hind leg so badly, up toward her hip, that it was not likely she would recover from an attempt at surgery. My parents then had to make the decision to have her put down, as the odds were not in her favor as an elderly horse and she had already enjoyed a long life with the same loving family for 21 of her 24 years. I only wish it could have been less painful for her; my only consolation is that her suffering did not last too long. It's so hard for me to imagine her not expiring peacefully under her favorite tree, but that's just not how it works in real life I guess. But I am so very thankful that she was with my parents and they did the best they could under the difficult circumstances.
With a sniffle and tears still in my eyes I will say: rest in peace little Peaches. We shared so many fond memories and taught each other so much. You will always be the best pony a little girl could ever ask for. We'll miss you!
