Ah... puppyhood

I got these first 4 pictures from Belle's old owner last week.  They are AWFULLY cute, of Belle and her litter-mate at about 12 weeks old.  The last 3 pics are of Miles at the same age.  Belle is now 6 and Miles is 1.5 years old.  No, we do not dress up our pets for halloween.  Though we considered painting a white stripe down Miles' back and calling him a skunk.  No trick-or-treaters here tonight, but the neighbor dog, Newman, came over to play again.  He lives across the south pasture but spends more time here than at home.  He's a little tri-colored corgi that looks just like Miles, but with the legs lopped off.

Entry for the Arenus Strong Bonds Contest

From Wheelchair to Cross-Country Course

Because of the help Cecil gave me after I suffered a traumatic brain injury, I am able to work, ride, and live again.  In 2008 I was in a major accident that changed my life.  Previously an athletic eventing rider and trainer, for some time after the accident I was in a wheelchair and then a walker, with balance problems and visual deficits.  After returning home to our training stable from the rehab facility I wanted to see Cecil, my motivation to go outside with my walker.  Not only was Cecil, a barely five year old thoroughbred, not afraid of this device, but he would come right over to the fence to see me on my assisted trips outside.  Because of the location of the brain injury, we knew I would have trouble with motion in the saddle.  Eventually, though, I wanted to ride again.  

Four months after the accident, on my birthday, all I wanted was to ride Cecil.  He had been under saddle for about a year.  With the help of my husband and a friend, we attempted the ride hippotherapy style.  I was able to mount with my husband as a spotter, but Cecil knew I was not quite right.  My young, playful horse then proceeded to walk slowly and carefully, shifting his weight under me to ensure I didn’t tip over.  With the help of my friend at his head, my husband at my side, and my horse underneath me I continued the process of recovery.  

During another ride several months later I was mounted on Cecil, walking independently in the arena.  Suddenly the wind turned on, as it is prone to do here in Northern Colorado.  I found myself dizzy, nauseated, and unable to walk back to the barn under my own power.  Cecil, sensing I was not steady, cautiously came to a complete stop.  I dismounted (crawled down from the saddle is more accurate) and held the tack with a death grip until I was able to stand without falling.  I wrapped my fingers in his mane and leaned hard on his shoulder.  I focused as fully as I could on the gate, and said “Cecil, I need you to get me there safely.”  With most of my weight leaning on him, Cecil took small, slow steps to match my own halting gait, though in a perfectly straight line.  He precisely guided me to the tack room, where I sat on the floor and he patiently waited for my friend to come get him.

I am now two and a half years past the accident that cemented my friendship with Cecil.  Largely because of him, I am in the saddle regularly.  I have returned to work as a horse trainer, and Cecil and I competed extensively this past season.  There is a special bond between this horse and me, and he will remain my horse, my physical therapist, my partner in competition, and my friend as long as we live.