During the scholarship application process, we received hundreds of submissions, many of which included excellent stories. One in particular caught my attention. It tells the story of adopting a horse. It’s a beautiful story that I would like to share with you. By Viktor S.
My first experience with pet adoption was accidental, making the positive consequences all the more impactful. Several years ago, my family agreed to board horses for an animal rescue for the summer. The intention was to fatten them up and send them home in better shape. However, the moment the white, percheron mare stepped off the trailer, clouded with the lingering stress of the morning’s auction, I knew I’d never let her leave. She was a meat horse with no name and no history, only alive now because the meat buyers were outbid.
Several hundred pounds underweight with a case of equine lordosis so severe you could ski down the slope of her back, this horse was very likely to have spent most of her years as a broodmare at a backyard breeding facility, neglected and terrorized until her advanced age made her unprofitable. Though she was estimated to be around twelve years old, the poor state of her teeth told the story of a horse who had lived an excruciating twenty-six years. To the dismay of my loved ones, neighbors, and fiscal resources, all of whom have themselves been privy to the tribulations of caring for an animal out of a fondness that ignores practicality, I could not be deterred from her. In fact, I spent countless hours sitting in the morning dew of the June grass watching her, letting her come to me. She’d smell me, then walk away. After a week, she let me pet her. I called her Nyx.I pent every day of the summer working with her. Within a month, she had her first farrier appointment, which took two hours and required a small fortune of gratuity. Every following six weeks, the farrier came back and stayed for as little as ten minutes. With every victory, I felt justified in my affections, and even began to sway the resolve of my parents. When autumn came, I stood beside her in the pasture and waved as the other horses were taken home.The rescue waived Nyx’s adoption fee, as they were thrilled to know I’d spend the rest of her life feeding her expensive supplements, hauling her to expensive medical appointments, and buying her expensive gear she doesn’t need but would look lovely in.
I’ve owned Nyx for two years now, and in that time, I’ve continued working with the animal rescue that brought her to me, enjoying every second I get to spend with these animals. However, my greatest source of pride continues to stem from the day I rode her for the first time. On her bare back, using nothing but a halter and a lead rope as reins, I could find no trace of the skittish and terrified horse that I had once known. I will not ride her again, as she has paid her dues as a working animal, but I cannot adequately express my gratitude for this horse that has shown me the most authentic connection I have ever known.
