Lucky

In the fall of 2023, Olive developed a slight limp when trotting to the right. It didn't seem like a big deal at first. There had been an incident with a recumbent bike, during which she went back to the barn without me, traversing a lot of pavement at a high rate of speed. Sore feet seemed like a reasonable consequence. I gave her some time off, expecting a full recovery.

That did not happen.

In November, my vet did a full lameness work-up. Her x-rays were unremarkable, but nerve blocks revealed heel pain. My vet settled on a diagnosis of mild navicular syndrome. We made changes to her shoeing and diet and started her on Equioxx.

That helped, but I never really felt like she was one hundred percent sound again.

Oh, she was fine at the walk. Olive had an amazing walk. She consistently out walked horses who'd finished Tevis. I never, ever felt bad about riding her at the walk.

The trot was a different story. As long as we were on a straightaway or turning to the left, she was fine, but when turned right, the head bob came back. Sometimes, it was so slight, everyone told me I was imagining it. I wanted to believe that, but deep in my heart, I knew I wasn't.

I really like riding, so this was a problem. As much as I loved Olive - and I loved her so much - the thought of spending the next ten years only walking was... not great. If you talked to me at this year's BreyerWest, there's a good chance you heard about this. I was really struggling with it in March.

Things had leveled out a lot by June, but when we reached the critical decision point during Olive's first colic, it occurred to me that if I let her go, I could get a horse with fewer limitations. I sat with that for a few minutes, but all I could think was, "That horse wouldn't be Olive." 

I told the vet I'd changed my mind and wanted to proceed with surgery. 

After that, I never looked back. I'd made my choice, and it was Olive.

No horse has ever been more appreciated than Olive was during the last six months of her life. Every day, I went to the barn and rejoiced in her mere existence. It didn't matter if we trotted or cantered or even rode at all. 

Just being with her was enough.

Just being with her was everything.

Even though it ended the way it did, I have no regrets. Much the opposite. While I am absolutely devastated by grief, I am also overwhelming grateful for the time we had, especially that last half year. 

That time with Olive was everything.

Olive was everything.

I was so, so, so lucky to have her.