Timmy and I.
I put down my dream horse last week. As I write this I have a constant voice in the back of my head muttering, “What kind of narcissist are you that you think people want to read about your story; your horse?” And that’s true. I know you all have your own stories, and certainly mine is no more important or heart wrenching than any of yours. But I have a blog, a glass of wine, some sleepless hours, my husband is away, I am sad and lonely, so here it is. LOL. Perhaps my memories and emotions may stir some up in you and remind you in a good way of your horse that you were lucky to have had to lose.
Having come from a non-horsey family, in a non-horse suburb of Toronto, my passion for horse ownership at a young age was, to be brief, a struggle. My fabulous parents were not very keen at all, thus for a long time the best I could come up with was a series of OTTB who were certainly not suitable for a young person and all riddled with many physical and/or mental issues. Finally I found a good one, an OTTB I named Snappy who, although not talented enough to supersede my dressage and show jumping uselessness, was a cross country genius and took me up to the three star level. One day Snappy had a very nasty paddock accident and was in the hospital for days and things were not looking too good for her future and I spent all day every day at her side, and it was at that point that I guess my dad figured I was pretty committed to this horse thing, so he took me aside and told me he would buy me one good horse so I best make sure it was the right one.
I had seen Timmy (Timber Spirit) with Peter Gray at a few events and above all other horses he immediately drew my attention. He was a lovely dark liver chestnut like a chocolate lab and although had quite a strong face, his ears were always forward and he had a very kind eye. Peter had imported him from the UK and just started him at the prelim level. I tried him a few times and couldn’t get his head down to save my life, but he moved like nothing I had ever felt before and jumped amazing. Above all that, I don’t know what it was, but he called to me and I knew he was the one for me. I thought he was a lot of money back then which is funny because now we are buying five-year-olds for the same price as we paid for him, and my father even offered to spend more money for the right horse, but I just knew he was the one.
The first day I got him home to the barn where I boarded, I took my lovely new horse out for a hack with some ladies at the barn and within two minutes of being out in the fields, he fast as lightening bucked me off, but at least stuck around by my side instead of running off. He never bucked me off again, but did stay by my side for the next 11 years of riding.
Over the next 11 years, he took me to so many events I can’t remember half of them, I’m sure. In the end, he did an amazing six years at advanced and never had an injury or even a joint injection until after his second Rolex.
I had him through the bulk of my college years – while I did an honours undergrad and a Masters. And while I did all of that because education was very important to my parents, and my parents were very important to me, I must say that Timmy gave me far more of an education for my life today than any of those courses ever gave me. With Timmy, I discovered America. Of course, my parents had taken me traveling to Florida and New York City before, but with Timmy, early in our advanced career I would jump into the lorry with Peter Gray and Paul Delbrook and off we would go to places like Massachusetts, New York State, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and all kinds of other states I had never been to before.
Later on, as I got older and sold Snappy (who did after all make a comeback to give me a few years of three stars after her accident) to buy my own trailer, I would embark on adventures on my own with just Timmy and my border collie Schatzie to take off to the States and pursue our dreams there. Like I said, I have forgotten more events than I remember now, but I know we hit Radnor two star up, Over the Walls twice back in the dark ages when it was a world cup three star, Fairhill three star a few times, Red Hills three star a few times, Jersey Fresh three star twice, Foxhall three star once or twice and then, of course, Rolex twice as a four star. I cannot fathom all of the horse trials he did in between, but my fondest memory of a horse trial with him was at Millbrook one year when he was second in the advanced to Buck. That was a very big deal to me. I took the roof partially off my trailer when I pulled into stabling, as I caught it on the edge of one of the metal tent poles and I can promise you I heard about it from the organizer, but driving home with a hole in my roof was no problem when I had that ribbon sat in the passenger seat next to the border collie.
Timmy remained strong and healthy during his entire 11-year career.
The amazing thing about Timmy and horses like him are that, yes, they have all the ability in the world, but the truly remarkable thing about them is their generosity to give of themselves entirely despite the fact that the rider is at a stage in their lives and ability in which they have no right to expect those lengths from their horses. For the first seven years I had Timmy our dressage was not hot, as I had no clue what I was doing and he, perhaps, wasn’t the easiest to get through to. However, right from day one he was a cross country machine and a very careful show jumper. Like 90 per cent of people in their 20s, my skill level was nowhere near doing most of what I was doing and yet he did it, as a young horse, that grew with me and let me make mistake after mistake and never held it against me and just kept on going.
He gave me an education in riding that no one trainer in the world would of been able to teach me in words and mileage that most people will spend their entire lives on many horses trying to achieve and yet will never reach. He did it because he knew no other way than to just do. ‘No’ was never once in his vocabulary, not in any circumstance, at any time. Whether I was pointing him at a massive fence, or yanking on his head and kicking on his sides when I was young and stupid and trying to teach him changes, he was always willing to give stuff a go. That is something else he taught me. Always buy horses with a work ethic and the willingness to try and please.
Timmy got me more years on the Canadian Eventing Team list than I can remember, but probably five or so. In 2008, we were listed as reserve for the Olympics after having placed at Jersey Fresh three star that year and when we went to training camp in Florida one of the team member’s horse had gone lame and we were then sent into a mock competition to battle out for the empty spot. The morning of our competition, I went into the barn very early to get him braided and saw that he seemed under the weather and, sure enough, had a very high temp, most likely shipping fever. I was told that I had to compete if I wanted a slot so our vet gave him some Banamine, which brought the temp down, but I could tell he was still funky. Despite that, he went out and did a decent dressage test and then shipped over to the horse park where he simply cruised around a course David had set up for us all. The next day we went back and had to jump a very large show jump track and again Timmy just sailed around it clear and perfect in every way. I knew when I went to bed that night that I was on the team and it was the best, most fabulous feeling ever. The next morning David confirmed to me that I was, in fact, the chosen one…but…come to find out that Timmy was broke. Had a tendon injury. Poof. Dream was gone. I was in tears, the vet was in tears, David gave me a hug and walked off, and there was Timmy, standing in the cross ties with ultrasound goo all over his leg looking at me like “Why the tears sugar? Let’s turn that frown upside down!” Of course he had no idea that he narrowly avoided a flight to Hong Kong, nor could he have cared less. I got him out of those cross ties and took him out for some grass while he happily munched away, I bawled, but watching him, happy as Larry, eat that grass made me put things into perspective and made me think that the important thing was that he wasn’t in pain and would be fine. That was something else he taught me. The horses don’t care about our dreams, our goals, our ribbons, are highs – they are all meaningless to them. If they do well and are successful, it is because they have a desire to do right by their rider, their partner – it is just that simple for them.
Aside from all of these wonderful memories, the other invaluable thing Timmy gave me was a career, a name, an ability to make money doing what I loved. I had three high profile riders offer me massive amounts of money for him, but thank god I never took them up on it because surely I would of spent the money and it would be long gone versus the experience Timmy gave me and those ribbons that then allowed me to get my first paying jobs as a rider and as a coach. If you think of it, that is a massive thing for an animal to give you. My parents thought spending thousands on private education and college was what was going to give me my ability to earn in my future, but although I am very grateful for the education I have and would not trade it, in actual fact, it was the money spent on purchasing Timmy that gave me the ability to earn later on in life. So that was another thing Timmy gave me. I will be a better parent to Liam now, as I know that sometimes, the path to your children’s future success does not come in a conventional form.
The final and greatest thing I got through Timmy was Leslie. You see, it was through Timmy that Leslie and I met. First, at a coaching symposium, where Leslie was teaching and I was chosen as a short listed rider to ride in, and then again, a year later, when we were both riding at Rolex. If it had not been for Timmy taking me to those right places at the right times I would not have met Leslie, would not have met my soul mate and created our beautiful son. So, you see, most of the very best things in my life have all been a result of that one fabulous horse.
Timmy, enjoying his retirement.
After having Liam, I did ride around a few more advances with Timmy, but by then he was getting right up there in age and I felt he was losing his power over the jumps, which was a pity as naturally that was about the time that I started getting better at dressage. LOL. Having had such a great run with him, for so many years, my biggest fear was taking advantage of him and running him until he started to fail at it. He had been such a success I couldn’t bear to have him ever see failure if he couldn’t physically perform up to it. So, I made the hard decision to retire him, but let him play for six months with a nice girl we had in the barn at the training and prelim level. After that, I didn’t really have anyone great in the barn to loan him to and I couldn’t bear the thought of leasing him out to some ungrateful person that would thump around on his back and his mouth just for a few bucks in my pocket. He deserved much more than that, so I retired him with his friend Stan (Shear L’Eau), and we rented them a beautiful three-acre paddock just across the street from our front yard where they lived with as much grass as they could stand and a very nice run in shed. The first few years they were out there while they were still fairly spry, they would love nothing more than to wait until Leslie and I hacked down the road on some young ones, at which point, Tim and Stan would come galloping balls to the wall towards us and frighten the young ones out of their skins and then watch us beating up on the young ones and I swear they would laugh and laugh. The past few years, they have become slower, but have been constant companions at each other’s side always in that massive field, lying down so close together to sunbath that they would literally overlap each other at times. Two such great horses from two sides of the world telling such stories I can only imagine if horses can tell stories.
A year or so ago, Timmy developed a tumour in a hind leg. It grew and grew and there was nothing that could be done about it, unless I wanted to bring him in the barn and try some experimental chemo type drugs on him. I could only think how sad and sick that would have made him, being stuck in a stall and subjected to that, as like the 2008 tendon story, even though I could see the scary lump growing, as far as Timmy was concerned, he was happy out there eating and wandering around with his buddy, Stan. By April this year, it had grown so grotesquely massive I knew there was no way the skin was going to keep stretching for much longer. I knew the time was coming and yet he still seemed so happy and was eating and able to walk, I just didn’t think I had the right to end his life yet, so again I left him be, but did start going over there more often at nights to just hang out with him and slip him the odd carrot when Stan wasn’t looking. Even after his years of retirement, I only had to walk into his field and call him and he would come straight over. I am sure, perhaps, he is just a friendly creature, but part of me wants to believe that he came because he knew me and to some extent valued our relationship and past as much as I did.
I just got home from 10 days away at events and the girls let me know upon return that he wasn’t doing too good. I went over that night and my heart sank. In such a short time he had rapidly deteriorated. Surely there is nothing better you can give your special horse than a retirement of bliss and in the end, as painless and free of trauma, death… or at least that is what I keep telling myself right now. When we took him out of his paddock, I had our girls take Liam’s pony over to Stan, as I thought that would keep him occupied, and yet Stan didn’t take one look at that pony, but instead followed Timmy the long drive all the way down the length of their paddock and when they crossed the road he stood at the edge of his paddock and just screamed and screamed and screamed and then started to gallop like I haven’t seen him do in years until we finally tranquilized him. It was gut wrenching.
Instead of looking out the front of my property to see him happy grazing out there I will now forever look out the back of the property to see his final resting spot. I am so very sad and can’t stop thinking that I was never good enough to him, never gave him enough wither scratches that he loved so much, or carrots or appreciation in general. But the truth is, for what he gave me, there are not enough carrots in the world to repay that debt. It doesn’t seem fair that for the eleven years he gave me I was only able to give him four and a half of great retirement, but I hope that at least I gave him a pain and fear free death which is more than most of us can probably look forward to.
I am so grateful to him. Thank you for reading about him.
