To A Faithful Steed, Even in Death

Since the dawn of domesticated horses, there has been a special connection between the horse and the rider. When mounted horsemen were imperative to battle, the horse and rider would go in as one being, bearing the colors they represented. The horse would die just as willingly as the soldier, but for a cause it could never possibly comprehend. For a brief moment, they were fighting together, dying for the soldier cause. The horse would be murdered because it wore proudly the colors of its master; it endowed all of its trust in that human.


The feeling of being one with a horse is unlike any other feeling in the world. Knowing exactly what the animal was thinking, doing, and feeling was a connection that cannot be described to anyone who has never felt it. The closest that comes to mind is the dog and master who hunt together, feeding each others minds with their thoughts and moving as one to retrieve the kill. Each step as Equine and Equestrian are in sync and each motion fits like neither has ever felt before.

Horses moving together in a pack wild and free, that must be horse heaven. Or can it be? Do they not desire their masters hand at their neck, their weight upon their back, urging them forward, faster and faster, toward an adrenaline rush they both know is coming. They dodge around bushes, moving, bareback and free toward ecstasy. Would that not be heaven? Perhaps when a horse dies, it goes to wait, ever in expectation with the other horses, until a rider, no, THEIR rider, comes to take them to the Promised Land. A sort of Horse limbo if you will.

Stormy, you must wait for me. Let not the temptation of another rider’s promises take you, they will never love you as I have. They will never touch you as you have touched me. Please, stay fast in your convictions. You are the best-friend I have ever had.

Galileo misses you. Billy desires your warmth. There is no horse that can fill your place. Please take care. I love you.