A Christmas Story…Darling Missy

December 10, 2008
I can’t think of a better time to share a heartwarming, amazing story than during this Season of Love.

I read a posting earlier about a woman, her dog, and the dog’s reaction to a beloved horse whose mane and shoe was hanging on a wall. The horse had died, and the mane hair and shoe were lasting tributes to a very beloved partner. The dog hadn’t known the horse, but I was moved with her story of how the dog reacted to the hair/shoe with a unique, almost uncanny kind of reverence.

This story was moving to me, and struck a chord in my heart, prompting me to share my own experience. I am not a superstitious person, nor am I the sort who will necessarily believe a lot of sensationalistic stories, but what I am about to say, I swear, is unembellished and changed me forever.

Last winter, part of me died. I lost my beloved mare, and that left a hole in my heart that will never heal. I doubt I’ll ever be the same. It was more than just the loss of a loved one, however. For me, it was an epiphany, and it had a spiritual meaning that was heaven sent. Before I go into the actual events of last February, I don’t think I could do justice to this story without some background information. Only then will you be able to fully grasp the experience that I wish to share with everyone.

My parents were divorced when I was 5 and I was sent to live with my grandparents in Rolla, North Dakota, a very bewildered, heartbroken little boy.  My grandparents loved me dearly, but they had flaws. One of them was they were harsh disciplinarians and not overly sensitive to what a little boy under those circumstances would be going through, emotionally. Thankfully, my uncle and aunt lived next door, and that was my salvation.

My family has a long history of horsemen going back centuries. My ancestors were Lebanese, and they raised Arabian horses. I was always told they were well known back in the “Old Country”. When my grandfather moved here in 1910, as a 14 year old, that legacy was broken, mainly out of necessity. Nonetheless, I was always told that I “had it in my blood”. My uncle kept an Arabian stallion, “Fleet”, out on my aunt’s family farm on a reservation, 7 miles away. My aunt was Native American, and she recognized that it would be good for me to get involved with horses, so she regularly took me out to the farm, where I learned to ride a bony old nag bareback.

There was no such thing as “riding lessons” back then where I grew up, and even if lessons were available, we wouldn’t have been able to afford them as we were quite poor and lived frugally. I later rode one of their quarterhorses, but always was enamored with this stallion, Fleet.

I was literally forbidden to even go in the pen with Fleet, but it bothered me that he was always alone. For some reason, I had absolutely no fear of Fleet, and I think he knew that. Eventually, I started to sneak into Fleet’s pen. One thing led to another, and before long I was riding him bareback.

My aunt and uncle were furious and horrified when I finally decided to show of my horsemanship on Fleet. I didn’t even know what a stallion was back then! Once the shock subsided, and the amazement set in, they taught me what a stallion was, but still turned a blind eye when I rode him.

I used to ride so much on weekends that I remember how I would pee blood on Mondays and it would burn like hell. Eventually, Fleet was gelded and he was allowed to pasture with the other horses. All I needed to do is grab a piece of twine, whistle, and Fleet’s head would pop up and he’d run up to me, stand while I crawled on his back, and take him back to the barn with a loop of twine around his neck. This relationship continued until I went away to college.

A few months after I started school, I returned home and was heartbroken when I learned that Fleet was sold to an Indian girl who wanted to make him into a barrel horse. I was told that he colicked and died within a couple months. From that point on I found it too painful to continue on with horses, so I rarely rode. Fast forward over 30 years. I had suffered a career-ending injury that destroyed the ulnar nerve in my left hand, so my days in the operating room were through. I remember vividly that anger I felt that God should cut my career short. I was blessed with very talented hands. This, I don’t consider to be bragging, because my hands were just a gift, and had nothing to do with any personal qualities, per se’. I remember how I would sit for hours on end contemplating my future, and thinking how I could understand how a person could literally die from a broken heart, not from suicide, rather, from a lack of a will to live. What followed was clearly no different than what happened in that popular parable, “Footprints”. I honestly think that the Lord carried me on his shoulders through those black days in my life. I decided to teach at a med school for a couple years in the Caribbean, but I returned to Fargo, and sold my home. I moved out to a lake home, and in 2001 bought a yearling, Two-Eyed-Jack Palomino quarterhorse that I named Missy. I thought it was time to get back to my “roots”, so to speak, as I had never lost those butterflies at simply seeing a horse, through all those years. I worked tirelessly on Missy’s groundwork, and read just about everything about training I could get my hands on. I had her broke as a 2 yr old. Eventually, after taking my current job in Fargo, I decided to board Missy at a place that had a nice big indoor arena. By then, Missy and I had forged a bond that was unbreakable. Missy was boarded along with about 50-60 other horses, and she used to neigh and pound on the door of her stall whenever she heard my car coming down the road. She’d get even louder as I walked into the stable, and would throw her head wildly, as if to say, “What took you so long? Let’s get going!” Whenever I asked her for a “kiss” she would actually kiss my face. I’d open her door and let her out, and she’d walk over to the cross ties, and stand there as I tacked her up. She didn’t have to be tied. I’d walk out to the arena and she’d follow me, with the reins around her neck. I was single at the time, and while most other singles would go out on Friday nights, Missy and I would ride until midnight, often times with the whole arena to ourselves. I’m sure I wasn’t technically the best rider around, but I was pretty fearless…even reckless at times. One night I was riding indoors along with a few others. There was this guy there who I had seen a number of times. Sometimes he smelled of booze something awful, so I figured he might be an alcoholic.

He billed himself as a “trainer” and I remember he was also into driving horses. Anyway, as I was riding, and trying to practice rollbacks, this guy walked out into the arena, and said, “I can’t take watching you anymore…..let me show you how to do that!” I reluctantly let him get on Missy, thinking he would teach me a thing or two.

Almost immediately Missy’s tail started to corkscrew and swish. He rode her had and over-undered her with my split reins, then tried to get her to slide-stop real hard. Keep in mind, we’re talking about a 2 year old. Eventually, she started to crow hop, and that was it….I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran back out into the arena, grabbed the reins, and told him to get his sorry ass off my horse. “Fine…..go ahead and do it your way!”, he said. I vividly remember telling him that if he ever so much as laid a hand on my horse, I would knock him into next week.

Eventually, I bought another horse, and I had them moved to a place that was 20 minutes from where I lived in Minnesota. We spent countless hours riding up and down cowpaths and through the woods. I rode her like it was my last ride almost every day, and never once did Missy act like she was getting sour.

We jumped over logs and fallen trees in the woods, and we swam together in the lake. I used to bring a lunch in a saddle pack, and always packed a lunch for Missy too (apples, carrots, and peppermints). I have so many sweet memories of so many rides, and some memories of a few harrowing experiences as well!Once I remember how we were trotting on a trail next to a cottonwood shelterbelt.

All of a sudden Missy raised her head and looked straight overhead. I stopped, and we watched as a Bald Eagle circled overhead. I can’t remember ever seeing a horse look straight up like that, but Missy did. I think that was her way of teaching me to open my eyes to the beauty around me….her way of getting me to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.I want to share one terrifying experience we had. One summer day we rode to the lake about 3 miles away.As was our routine, we ran full tilt over a path in the woods and jumped a couple logs along the way.

Sometimes, if a turtle was crossing the path, she would jump over that too, and catch me off guard! When we got to the lake, I peeled off my jeans, and took her saddle off so we could swim (and put on a show for the fishermen and water skiers as well!). On this day, as we were swimming, I noticed a very ominous black cloud to the south, out over the lake.

Usually, bad thunderstorms don’t come out of the south around here, so I just kept an eye on it, until it was obvious that it was moving toward us. I hurriedly saddled her up as the wind started to pick up. We took off through the woods, and emerged out on the road. By now the wind was real strong, and the lightning was almost on top of us. Trees and branches were being blown over. The heavy rain overcame us as we were running down the road to home.

Then the golfball-sized hail started to fall, and it hurt like hell. The rain and hail was so strong, and I couldn’t see but a few feet in front of me. Lightning was striking all over and all I could think of was Missy’s steel shoes! I let her run as fast as she could go, and she hauled ass down the road. All I could do was keep my face down and let her go, because I couldn’t see anything anyway, and she seemed like she knew where she was going.

I remember feeling her slow down a little, but not all that much, as she took a hard right down the mile long road leading back up to the farm. I couldn’t tell where we were, until she took a hard right onto the gravel driveway. We ran straight into the open barn door, and she slid on those steel shoes to a stop on the concrete, all the way to the back of the barn like it was a skating rink! I got off her and we walked to the door opening to watch the storm. She was blowing hard as we watched one of the out buildings get blown over. I’ll never forget how she nuzzled me and nickered as she stood by my side. It was like something out of a movie!When Missy was about 4, I started to teach myself to rope, and eventually was invited to help a rancher with branding one day. We’d done very little work around cattle, but I was real interested in something like team penning or roping at the time. At first I felt clumsy throwing a rope at a calf, but I started to catch on, with the help of some of the ranch hands. They all liked how Missy moved and how well she was put together. The first time I actually roped a calf, I was taken by surprise, so I was a little slow in dallying my rope. Once I did dally, the calf proceeded to loop a circle around us, and the rope tightened like a noose around Missy’s legs. Keep in mind, she hadn’t had much desensitization to ropes at all….calves too, for that matter! I could hear gasps from the people who were sitting on the fence, but Missy just calmly looked down and with a small little hop,jumped out of the loop. I didn’t realize that we had just avoided what could have been a real wreck. One of the ranchers came up to me afterwards and said, “That is one smart athletic horse!” We roped for the branding all day, so we got to be pretty handy when it was all over. Missy stood so nice when I would rope, and calmly drag the calf over to the branding pit without a hitch. My guess is that, since she was born in SD, she had some pretty good cow horse in her breeding, besides Two-Eyed Jack.Later that summer, Missy had a severe colic episode, and would have died, had I not taken her to a hospital in the middle of the night.

They operated on her, and I sat out in the waiting room praying. For every day while she was hospitalized, I drove 2 hours to see her and spent at least a couple hours with her in her stall.Where I kept Missy there lived a 14 yr old girl who was into barrel racing and other 4H games, and I became interested in learning.

Missy and I would practice the pattern, and run poles and I loved it. I didn’t get any lessons from anyone, so I just went by videos and books. By the time Missy was 5, however, Missy started to get lameness issues, and at first I thought it was just stone bruising, because she had developed a hoof abscess the year before. By then I had moved to my own horse property here and I finally took her to be checked by a vet at a nearby equestrian facility.

She was head-bobbing lame, and after a nerve block and xrays, the vet told me, “Bad news….she has navicular”. It was like being told I have cancer. I maintained my composure and listened as she told me about treatment options, including denerving. My farrier did the best he could and I knew no better. He explained how he trimmed her and put egg bar aluminum shoes on her.Two years ago, Missy delivered her first foal, Sonny, into my waiting arms. She was expecting any day, and I kept her in a foaling stall most of the time, but let her out for a couple of hours a day, while I was home and able to keep an eye on her. 

Once I looked out into her paddock as she was calmly munching hay, and I saw a white balloon sticking out of her…she was in labor, and I didn’t want her to drop that foal into the mud. I ran out to get her inside, and we only got as far as the indoor arena, where she dropped down on the sand and started to push. I didn’t want to get sand into the babies eyes and mouth, so I sat cross legged and caught Sonny in my arms. I spent the whole day and most of the night out in the barn with them, like a nervous father. Later that summer I started back on her practicing poles and barrels, whenever she seemed to be comfortable with her feet. Later that fall I took her to a “Fall Buckle Series”, for her first competition. By now, Missy had that typical stilted gait, but that didn’t keep her from running her big heart out.

That was the only buckle I have ever won, but it was in the novice division. She was especially good in poles, and ran a perfect pattern around the barrels. We also won the regular division in pole bending. The trophy we won in regular pole bending we gave to a little boy in a wheelchair with obvious cerebral palsy.

I’ll never forget how Missy lowered her muzzle up to the boy and let him pet him with a slapping motion and a loud laugh and wide smile. The parents stood there and cried. All I could do was smile and shake my head in amazement. Toward the end of the show, I knew Missy was hurting, because her front legs were shaking, and I felt guilty as heck. Before that, I didn’t have a clue. Somehow I don’t think Missy cared that she was in pain, because she ran with so much heart. I could run her through a pole pattern with my hands in my pockets.

She didn’t have any barrel horse in her breeding, but that didn’t matter to me. She was my soulmate.A year ago, Missy blessed me with an unplanned 2nd foal, Annabelle. Somehow, my stallion must have gotten in with her, but I didn’t know about it, until I remembered an incident where he was only briefly in with the mares.  Obviously he was fast when he bred her! As the summer progressed, I couldn’t figure out how Missy was getting such a “hay belly”, but I assumed it was because I couldn’t ride her that much, because of her navicular, so I figured she was just deconditioned. I got another farrier at my girlfriend, Michele’s, suggestion. Almost immediately Missy’s navicular lameness disappeared! I rode her a lot to get her in shape and to lose weight. I should have figured things out when I could lope her and long trot her for an hour, and she would hardly break a sweat. She was in great shape, but was still pig fat….or so it seemed! The thought of pregnancy crossed my mind, but, nahhhhh….how could she be pregnant?I finally had a vet check her, and yep. She was preggo and I was embarrassed! A few months later Missy gave me her last gift, a spitting image of her that I named Annabelle. Two years ago I met Michele (Hotbear) when I bought her horse and took my first lessons from her. We fell in love, and I knew she had been through some hellish times, so I wanted to do something special for her. In February we went on a Caribbean cruise. As usual, I arranged for a 15 year old neighbor girl, Callie, to take care of my 16 horses (yeah, I know….too many!!!). I was planning on weaning Annabelle when I returned. We thoroughly enjoyed the first few days of the cruise. On a Tuesday, we arrived on Barbados, and were taking a tour bus, when we passed by some horses grazing in a pasture, and we talked about how great it would be to live on a Caribbean island, especially if we could have our horses. I commented to Michele that I hoped the horses back home were doing OK. We got back on the ship and it was late afternoon. I was sitting out on the balcony waiting for Michele to get ready for dinner. It was sunny, but the strangest thing happened. There was a cloudburst right over the ship, even though the sun was shinning. I called to Michele and we both thought that was real strange. Also, as we looked at that one lone rain cloud, we saw the most beautiful rainbow. It was surreal.

Later that night Michele and I had just finished eating dinner and were walking out of the dining room. We decided to look around in some of the shops on the ship after dinner. As we were walking out, I was absolutely overcome with a panic and sense of impending doom. It was almost like a panic attack. I just knew something was wrong. I stopped and said, “Michele, you go on ahead, I just have to call home and check on the horses.” I swear this is exactly what happened. I never thought it was necessary to call home, especially when I kept in touch with Callie by email every day. For some reason, I just HAD to call.

The phone rang, and Callie’s little sister, Chas, answered. I said hi and asked how everything was going. Chas was obviously crying and said, “Not so good…..I’ll let mom talk to you.” Patty, Callie’s mom said “I have some bad news, Scott” I couldn’t imagine what that could be, but I knew something was wrong before I even called. “Missy died.”

I was paralyzed with disbelief. Back home it was very cold…like 30 below, and even worse with the wind chill. Missy and Annabelle had been kept in the barn at night. By now, Annabelle was strong and pretty tough, so she was let out with Missy, but we had the horses all blanketed. Missy had somehow ran through the fence and broke a PVC post off, and ran into the woods, where she ran around for a while, until she apparently died. When Callie had come over to feed, everything looked OK, except Missy was gone. Annabelle seemed perfectly normal, and not even panicking. Missy had a few superficial cuts on her legs, but nothing real big. To this day, I can only guess what happened, but I’ll never know because I didn’t have an autopsy done. My guess is that something chased her and she led them away from her baby and just ran herself to death in that deathly cold.When the news finally started to sink in, I was the most devastated I have ever been in my life. I was in shock, and I ran to get Michele. I am a little embarassed to say this, but I cried all night long and didn’t sleep a wink. Michele just held me the whole time like a child. The following night we ended up on the island of Nevis, and I tried to make it fun for Michele, but I couldn’t hide my grief. We were walking around an area where there was an open market, and there were these native islanders who had a small monkey they would let tourists hold and take pictures of for money, of course. I watched the cute little thing, and laughed at her human expressions. “What’s her name?”, I asked. “Missy”, he replied. I got choked up all over again, and so did Michele. That night we went to the dining room again, and they had a sort of “sing-a-long”. The last song was “Country Road”, by John Denver, which I always thought was sort of a sad song.Michele and I both cried. From then on, whenever I hear that song I get choked up.Finally, we got back home.

The last days of the trip we just went through the motions. They had managed to drag Missy out of the woods over the snow with a tractor, and they left her frozen body covered in horse blankets next to the barn. I’ll never forget how beautiful she looked even in death, and I dropped to my knees, cried, and prayed, when I pulled the blankets off her. I then realized that all of the other 15 horses were lined up and standing reverently, nickering very softly as I was on my knees. Clearly they were grieving.

What happened next was one of the most incredible things I have ever witnessed. I decided to take each horse and lead them up to view Missy. They all pretty much did the same thing. Their eyes got big, and the sniffed and nudged her. Some pawed at the ground, and a couple even nickered at her. This took well over an hour. The last horse I brought to view Missy was Bear. Bear is my #1 barrel horse, and he too has a very special place in my heart, partly because he has taken such good care of me, and also because he was Michele’s horse. He is the “king” and nobody crosses him here.

Before her death, Missy was the alpha mare. Bear’s nostrils expanded as he approached Missy. He started to snort and honk, and then he almost angrily pulled the blanket completely off her. He started to sniff her all over, and nudged her a couple times. Then, all of a sudden, Bear dropped to the ground next to her head, as if he was going to roll. He knelt there and looked at her while staying motionless, as if he was praying, or somehow paying his last respects in his own way. Just as quickly, he jumped up, and looked off into the distance, while standing like a statue, before walking off, never looking back. I have no doubt whatsoever that some sort of communication or prayer was going on.

Who knows? I’ll forever be haunted by that experience.For the next couple weeks I couldn’t bring myself to have Missy hauled away. I know it sounds strange, but that’s the way it was. One day Michele and I hauled 4 horses to NDSU’s indoor arena to do some riding.Her two kids, Kellen and Garrett, as well as my daughter, Elizabeth, came along. We spent the day in Fargo riding as well as shopping, etc.. That night around 8 o’clock as we were in I-94, 5 miles east of Moorhead, we were moving at about 60 mph, when we struck some black ice, and I lost control.

I still remember the sight of that trailer (with LQ) swinging around, as we slid into the ditch and rolled over twice.I struck my head and suffered a bad whiplash, but nobody else was hurt, thank God. Even the horses walked away unharmed! The kids in the backseat escaped out a broken window, while I didn’t dare move because I was certain my neck was broken. I was half buried in snow, and the cab was almost completely crushed. I told Michele to get out, because it was bitter cold. She refused to let go of me and held my head motionless until the paramedics arrived in what seemed like an eternity later.

She just stood there shivering violently. Eventually, after about 4 hours in the ER, we got a ride home, and someone came to pick up the horses for us. I never did see the news clip, but apparently the sheriff said that the accident was the worst non-fatal accident he had ever seen in 30 years of law enforcement.

A few days later, I took clippings of Missy’s mane, and Michele had her hauled away. I will always have a vision in my mind, of a winged yellow horse, who saved us that night.

Whenever I hear of someone losing a special horse, I know what they are going through. Some of us are blessed with an ability to recognize just how special these animals are and we also realize that, while we may know an awful lot about the world around us, there is only one explanation for what I experienced, as far as I’m concerned.

That explanation cannot be explained by science. That’s why it’s called “faith”. I am convinced that our special partners have a special place in heaven. Horses don’t sin…people do. If any living creature deserves a place next to our Lord, it is the horse. I think there is a rainbow bridge, and I thing Missy is there waiting for me. After all, what could be more heavenly than that?