How often do we, as stewards of our animals, really appreciate the time spent with them while we still have them around? The tragedy of loving an animal is knowing that someday you will have to part with them.

My mare, Amber, had some sassy qualities that were uniquely hers, but I loved her a lot and considered her my sixth kid. Purchased as a 4-year-old, I was responsible for much of her early training. She helped me through some rough patches in my life by being a diversion from personal woes. There were times I didn’t get on her for a month at a time, but she always remained consistently soft in the mouth and easy for me to hop on and go whenever I was able to ride.

One thing that I learned from having horses for 26 years is that they aren’t capable of lying. They may have a day where they are ornery, or feisty, or in need of attention. They may be sore, have tummy aches, or fail to understand what you are feebly trying to teach them. But they are always truthful—no matter what. How many of us can say the same of ourselves?

Allan Hamilton said, “I was drawn to horses as if they were magnets. It was in my blood. I must have inherited from my grandfather a genetic proclivity toward the equine species. Perhaps there's a quirk in the DNA that makes horse people different from everyone else, that instantly divides humanity into those who love horses and the others, who simply don't know.” (Allan J. Hamilton, Zen Mind, Zen Horse: The Science and Spirituality of Working with Horses)

I’ve heard it said that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a woman. For me, it’s been very true. I was born a horse woman and I’ll die with the same moniker. I make no excuses for my passion for them.