Meddleton Equine Hospital

I remember my gelding and friend, Buddy. We came a long way. Bud was a big, Polish Arabian (13 yrs when I got him) and was starting to get a bad reputation as being "too hard to ride" when I bought him in 2002. I did not know about the reputation until well after I bought him. I liked the guy, He was going to be my gentle, older horse. His name was The Mischief Man, but I renamed him Buddy because that was what he was going to be.

Dierdre Monroe and Buddy on Tevis Cup Ride

We went through a lot. Did endurance. Lots of trail riding. But we got to a point where he was bucky and intimidating. Early on he tried cow kicking me (and found that was not in his best interests). We ended up getting training with Leslie Hammel Turk and I discovered I was making him crazy, holding him back, not giving him a loose rein, and that he also had some bad habits. Basically, I had to admit that I had lots to learn and that Buddy was not going to put up with my level of riding skill.

The first miracle is that we got beyond all these things. Then, Bud shocked me in his depth of caring. I remember a ride in which a friend's horse bolted and ran for the trailers, several miles away. My friend walked and another friend and I rode back to the trailer.

I rode out alone from the trailers (and was still intimidated at this time by Bud) to try to find the missing mare. I remember being in sight of the trailer at the end of about 3-4 miles. He could see the trailer and the other horse, but we got to an intersection and he wanted to make a hard right instead of going straight to the trailers. The miracle is that I listened. I gave him a loose rein and Buddy went right, away for the trailer.

We called for the mare and he looked and looked and looked. We went another mile or so and finally seemed to lose the scent. Later that evening (and we did have other people on the trail by this time) the mare was found, tied to a tree and in the very direction Buddy wanted to go. His concern for his friend, the mare left me stunned. These "horses" are supposed to just be "animals," yet Buddy left the security of a horse buddy, the trailers, and food to search for a horsie friend.

A couple of years later I sent Buddy to Kansas to a friend's place for a year off. He was 21 at this time and we had done about 1300 endurance miles, including a Tevis attempt. He did not do well. Again, I thought he was "a horse" and would be happy in a big pasture with lots of buddies and lots of grass. Not so. he seemed to mope, stood under a tree for a couple of months and really did not bond with the herd.

By January (about 6 months later) I visited him and he was very underweight and sad. He seemed so very happy to see me and I realized that he needed to come home, that he and I were bonded. We had become "one of those great teams" in endurance. It was me and Buddy out there for miles, riding in the dark, going up Cougar rock, trusting our lives to each other in bad weather and tough circumstances.

I remember picking him up from the shipper in Albuquerque about a month after I visited him and recall Buddy sniffing the air with having a spring in his step. He seemed so happy to be home and it seemed so clear that he wanted to be with me. I cannot defend that to anyone else, but I know it to be true. In about eight weeks I did have to send Buddy on to his next life. I still am stunned at how hard it was to let my dear friend go, but he had developed a degenerative hock that was going downhill fast. No hope for the future.

So, dear Dr. D helped me and Buddy say goodbye and give him relief from his pain. I believe I will see Buddy again and we will ride in the Granite Chief wilderness west of Squaw Valley where a lovely photo with a coral glow was taken in 2007 on our Tevis attempt. We trusted each other with our lives. A horse with a bad reputation taught a human to be kind and patient. He taught me love and affection as deep and profound as that between humans. Just a horse? No, not Buddy.

The care you gave Buddy, both medical and in real and honest emotional caring for both of us, is something that will always set you apart. —Deirdre Monroe