Goosiversary: Sixth Edition

Dear Goose,

Good grief, how did six years go by already? I can’t believe how the time has flown. It’s strange how it can feel like just yesterday you were a dappled goofball with zero steering and no motor (unless you were spooking) and yet I can’t remember life without you. How on earth did you go from being my resale project to my best friend? When was that moment that I realized you were my forever goon?

Was it our first Halloween together when we went down the road, bareback and me covered in a sheet, to go drop in at the kids costume party? To this day I don’t know how you were such a saint with children and glow sticks, in the dark might I add, and yet you sometimes spook at your own shadow.

Such a weird picture I swear I was trying to be a ghost

It certainly wasn’t the winter at the nice dressage barn, where you spent most of it trying to kill me in the indoor and I spent it trying to convince myself to send you down the road. Luckily you found some brain cells (though you frequently lost them again like when you tried to kill me on the Stockton hunter pace or casually forgot how to steer and ran me out of arenas). You’re pretty lucky I never got up the nerve to post that “$5 on Craigslist” ad I always threaten(ed) you with.

I have very few pictures of us riding that winter due to the fact he was SO BAD.

Perhaps it was our first schooling show, The Shaggy Show, when you jumped by brail and split a pole right down the middle. Your talent was undeniable, even back then.

Breaking rails, winning ribbons. Just how we do

The very best friends <3 

Could be we bonded over your numerous injuries over the years: bowing your tendon, scalping yourself, busting a hole in your leg, breaking your splint bone (and then surgery to remove the fragments), your penile mass removal for the big melanoma, and now your melanoma treatments. As stressful as these have been, it's shown me what a good patient you are and I'm so proud of how stoic you remain during these times. Maybe you can stop hurting yourself now though, or at will least consider it? For me?

Maybe we stumbled across our friendship over the miles of trails we’ve traveled, the times you’ve held my hand over cross country fences, and the adventures we’ve had with our best friends.

Do you think we became a team during the clinics we participated in? The grids we schooled together, the courses we’ve jumped both in and out of the arena? Did our partnership become affirmed in the dressage lessons we took, the struggles we’ve endured, the movements I had to convince you to try?

I know it didn’t help our relationship the day you embarrassed me by throwing a hissy fit about a tiny baby ditch, and then fought Meg Kep for over 6 minutes before she skillfully convinced you to get the F over it, literally. I still cringe laugh every time I see this picture of you.

I will say, you did redeem yourself shortly after when you took our friend to a show at the USET when her mare needed some time off. You looked quite stunning with all those ribbons hanging off your face!

"Ma, this barn is WAY too fancy for the likes of me..."

We’ve moved around quite a bit together. You’ve been by my side through college, graduation, my first few years of real life, and the big move to the Carolinas. We’ve been through hell and back together with some pretty interesting boarding situations; maybe all of that helped us truly bond.

Maybe you preferred Kendra over me, and loved Foxhunting with her best of all. Except that I know you love me, and I'm the one with the cookie and carrot supplies. Besides, when you weren't foxhunting with her, Kendra made you REALLY WORK and I'm pretty sure you hate that.

I do know that my heart burst with pride when you held your own during the Amwell Valley Hunter Trials against a very classy crowd, even though you’d have rather been chasing hounds than playing show pony with knots in your head. You even got a piece of the hack in very good company!

I also know that you loved Gloria more than me. How could you not?

"No thanks, Mom. You go on ahead to NC, I'll stay with Auntie Gloria." - Goose, probably.

Goose, is it the tears I’ve cried into your mane? The times I’ve held your head in my arms because the vet was poking you with yet another needle for yet another injury? The laughs we’ve shared, the bareback rides, the tricks I’ve taught you? Do you think it’s the quiet moments we share when we’re alone at the barn, the rare occasions you’re not being a treat whore and we have those magical human-horse moments?

Nobody ever captures the sweet moments so have this pictures instead.

Sometimes I get stuck on the things we haven’t done in the past six years. The shows we haven’t gone to, the ribbons we haven’t won. The lessons and clinics I can’t always afford to do. I can’t help but think how much further along we could be, how you’re 14 this year and I’m 26 and still poor and still a very average ammy struggling through each ride. I think about how I don’t always do you justice, how you could be so much more... if, if, if.

But then I look at all the memories and moments we have shared, and see where we started. How I bought you as the world’s goofiest 8 year old and made you into something neither of us could have imagined. How you've made me into a horsewoman and rider I never knew I could be. How it’s taken six years of incredibly hard work, an immense amount of frustration, some lessons and training, injuries to both of us, a 10 hour move, multiple rehabs, a few dozen bags of cookies, a few switches in disciplines, some cursing and swearing (okay a lot of that), some bucking and spooking, thousands of dollars, hours and hours spent together, *pauses for breath*, and most of all a heck of a lot of commitment, love, and a big ol’ dash of insanity to get us to where we are now.

How could I have even one single regret about any of that?

I taught you how to steer, you taught me how to use my leg. I taught you dressage, you taught me patience. I taught you to jump, and you gave me wings. I threw my last shred of confidence over cross country fences, and you caught it for me on the other side. I took you on a bareback trail ride, you broke my hand. You’ve taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and I’ve given them gladly. I’ve taken care of you, and you’ve given me life.

So, back to my original question. I don’t know at what point I realized that we were meant to be, Goob, but I have a feeling it was love at first sight. When your chunky, dappled butt came off that trailer, I just knew you had to be mine. You’ve made a little girl’s dreams come true in so many ways I never could have imagined. You turned into something I never knew I wanted, led me in directions I never knew I wanted to go. I don’t care that we don’t go out and Do All The Things right now, because all that matters is I have you, and you’ll always have me.

I hope we have another six years together, and then another six after that. It is my greatest wish that we will be that lucky. For now, Happy sixth Goosiversary Goober, and here’s to all our adventures that lay ahead, and to all the miles already in our rearview mirror. I'm so lucky to be your human.

Love you Goobie, happy six years together.