Paycheck

Today, we said goodbye to our old gray mare, PC.

I can still remember combing over the “Horses” classified section of the Rock Mountain News every Sunday. Calling the adds and asking the owners a ton of questions about their horses for sale. I was looking for a new barrel horse prospect. Maybe even a backup Westernaire horse for my senior year. I think I called twice on that gray filly up north. I knew it was a stretch geographically trying to convince my mom to drive to Wellington to look at her, but every week I kept circling her add in the paper.  

Late February, we finally drove up to look. The filly was charcoal gray, a little smaller made and narrower built than Lamar, but she was beautiful to me. She was quick and catty. She was intimidating when I rode her near the pen of cattle. She moved off my leg and hands lightning fast and it felt like I was driving a sports car. She had a big engine wrapped up in a little package and she excited me!

I was sold. Her owner said her name was Paycheck – she had spent an entire paycheck to pay for the stud fee to breed her mare resulting in this little gray filly. They called her PC for short and I never changed her name.

Lamar and PC became fast friends. My horse crazy heart was overflowing. My very favorite thing to do was turn them out to run in a pasture. The freedom in which they bucked, kicked up their heels and raced the wind never got old. It brought endless smiles to my face and tingles in my toes. (It still does after all these years owning horses.)

I had such big plans for this mare! I was going to teach her to barrel race, maybe team rope, and use her at Westernaires my last year in the organization.

Here is the thing about mares, mares seem to have a decent amount of confidence in themselves and PC was no exception. If I am honest, PC taught me more than any horse I have ever owned.

For one, my goals were not her goals.

Barrel Racing – every time I took PC up to a barrel with any amount of speed, I ended up in the dirt.

Westernaires – PC’s first class was a day I was acting as a Junior Instructor in a tenderfoot class. She despised an arena full of horses circling and reversing and well, I ended up in the dirt - twice. It was encouraged that I should not bring her back.

In the fall of 1998 PC, Lamar and I headed off to college. I had my eyes set on becoming a professional horse trainer. I was able to keep both horses on campus that first semester when my blonde-haired friend from Iowa needed an older horse to learn training techniques with. What a hot mess! Lamar was a raging, fire-breathing barrel horse with no face or softness about him. And PC… well she was a strong headed mare paired up with an equally strong-minded gal. Those two girls butted heads more times than I could count that semester. PC would rear, buck and give Iowa a run for her money. She’d be cussing and spitting and probably would have sold her to the glue factory, if I had let her. But when the two of them agreed to disagree, they were beautiful together. Cadence, rhythm and gorgeous flying lead changes. Iowa really developed PC into such a beautiful mover. I was forever grateful.

After Jr College, I headed down to Texas for my internship and two weeks before I came home, I got the worst call ever. Lamar had been struck by lightning. My heart crashed to the floor. Lamar was that one horse. The one that moves your soul and knows every piece of your heart.

He was gone.

She was left.

I came home from Texas devastated… and bitter. Why? Why had God taken him from me? Why my favorite horse?

She was left.

PC was not a loving horse when she was younger. She was not a fan of public displays of affection or a people pleaser. She was independent and hardheaded. I had never been bucked off a horse, let alone the same horse, more times than riding that mare. She would bolt and try to buck. When I checked her or tried to pull her back, she would slam on the breaks and rear. I grew to hate riding that mare. I swore weekly I would sell her – as soon as I could get her to stop bucking and rearing so I could sell her.   

Blind obedience isn’t even on a mare’s list of possible. You can pick a fight with a mare, and perhaps she won’t win, but she will never quit fighting. Controlling the universe is an exhausting job but all mares, while dominant, can be sensible. One day my patience ran out and PC and I finally came to an understanding (thanks to a very large piece of tree branch I spotted in the pasture.) Life is a give and take relationship, sometimes you give, and sometimes she gives.

I’d finally broken PC of rearing and bucking. I couldn’t help but still hold a grudge against her existence in absence of Lamar and with little love between us I had finally decided to sell her. First, I wanted to get a baby out of her. I bread her to a big, nice-looking Paint stallion in hopes of getting a new barrel prospect that I could raise and train myself. PC and I agreed to coexist until then.

In the final nights before PC foaled, I started my foal watching schedule. It involved checking in on her in the middle of the night for signs of her going into labor. Midnight and sometimes at 2:00 am, I would creep out into the barn and watch her breathing and check for other signs that a baby was near. Over that two weeks in the quiet night, something happened. PC was growing more and more uncomfortable and I started brushing her in the middle of the night with a soft brush. I’d give her a special little treat and watch as she relaxed for a spell enjoying the soothing strokes of the brush.

I started talking to her late at night.

My guarded heart began to soften and one moon lit night I started to cry as I brushed her. I told her I was sorry I had been so awful to her the last few years. I told her it wasn’t her fault Lamar had died. I knew she had struggled after Lamar had died and missed him too. I apologized that I wasn’t there for her and for never giving her the chance to be there for me. I made PC a promise that night that I would never sell her. I told her that for as long as she lived, she had a home with me.

I kept that promise.  

PC taught me humility and I was humbled through forgiveness.

A few days later with a newfound love and joy in my heart, we welcomed my first foal. A very tiny, bay paint filly I named Cricket.

PC was an amazing mother.

PC had one other foal while I owned her. A gorgeous, chocolate bay colt we named Jack - that much to my disappointment ended up carrying the graying gene of his momma and slowly over the years has faded lighter and lighter as she did.

The pair had a tough go earl on, and baby Jack had to have two plasma transfusions when he was just hours old. PC stood by never questioning the trust she had in me to look over her new baby.

I finally started to see PC for the horse she was. I respected her, gave her room, acknowledged her intelligence by listening to her, by being quiet and consistent and in return she generously gave me her trust and was willing to give me her very best. I enjoyed the view between her years and the smoothness in her gait.

Along the way, I realized that PC was the most patient with children. Her claim to fame is that PC was an excellent lesson horse. She taught so many kids to ride over the years. 

Dearest to my heart, PC taught both my Brown Eyed Girl and Mr. Blue Eyes to ride.

She lit the horsey fire deep down inside my Brown Eyed Girl and in truth, PC transitioned to be her horse years ago.

My Brown Eyed Girl learned everything from brushing to saddling PC. That girl spent hours learning to braid her tail. 

She was so patient, so kind. I trusted her completely. 

We all hope to age gracefully. The truth is that sometimes old age is not for the faint of heart.

Two years ago, it was confirmed that PC had Cushing’s Disease. Cushing’s Disease effects the pituitary gland and causes insulin resistance and hormonal imbalances resulting in laminitis, abnormal sweating, delayed haircoat shedding, changes in body conformation, muscle atrophy and weight loss.

Two winters ago, PC shed her winter coat the end of January and I had to blanket the old gal the rest of the season. This last winter was especially hard on PC. I knew she was losing weight but wasn’t sure how much weight she had lost until I had to shave her early this summer after she hadn't shed her winter coat.

A final labor of love.

It took me two days to body clip PC with two old pairs of clippers and a couple dull blades. The weather was getting hotter and as more hair fell to the ground, I could see the relief in her eyes. My Brown Eyed Girl and I gave her a bath and when I took a step back, sadness took my breath away. The frail old horse (with a really bad haircut) that stood before me broke my heart.

I called my trusted vet and told him it was bad. He urged me to try some more Cushing’s medication for 30 days and see if we couldn’t get her to bounce back. I tried. I tried for 30 days to get her to gain some more weight, but it was no use. Her hair started falling out and as the days went by, she looked worse and worse. The heat was miserable for her during the day and she looked lethargic as she hid in the shade.

I am a believer in quality over quantity. I made that hard call once again this week and told the vet it was time. I looked out my bathroom window last night watching all five of my four-legged friends eating together, one last night. 

I looked out that window again this morning as the sun rose and the five stood patiently for the day to begin, one last time. 

My amazing Brown Eyed Girl went out with me this morning to feed PC her breakfast, one last time. She asked me if she could give her a special handful of grain. Yes. Yes honey, you can give her anything you want. We brushed her once more and waited for the vet to arrive.

My brave Brown Eyed Girl chose to stay, and watch PC go to Heaven. She haltered PC one more time, a skill she had only just mastered the last few years thanks to PC’s patience. In her typical stoic self, she quietly let tears fall from her cheeks as we hugged each other and watched our old gray mare take her last breath. She helped take off PC’s halter when it was over and went inside while we finished what remained.

It was a hard day. PC taught us both to be brave. To be kind. To be compassionate. How to let go of those we love because we love.   

We sat and cried this afternoon for PC and my Brown Eyed Girl confessed how much she was going to miss her horse. How much she loved her horse and how she was so happy that PC gave her 10 years of her life but darn it she wished she could have given her more.  

Without a doubt, PC’s purpose in my life was not to teach me all the lessons that I have learned along the way – though I am thankful to her. PC’s purpose in my life was to be there when my Brown Eyed Girl came along so she could be that one horse. The one that moves your soul and knows every piece of your heart.

We love you PC!