secrets, secrets are no fun...

Hey, remember this horse?



Her name is Annie, or St. Anne's Fortune, if you're feeling fancy.

In June 2005, between buying the house and Janet's death, I bought her. For a year and a half she has been my secret. Ex #1 didn't find out about her until shortly before we broke up. My dad found out about a month ago. My mom doesn't know.

I kept her a secret for what I felt were good reasons. When I bought her I bound reason and financial responsibility with coarse rope and crude knots and threw them onto the tracks which my intoxicatingly compassionate heart was barreling down. No one was going to understand why I bought another one when I already exhausted myself trying to support one.



As a very young foal, before she should have been weaned, Annie was brought to the farm I was boarding at in Dallas. The people who owned her then abandoned her. The manager took over her care as soon as he realized that they really weren't coming back, but he did so cautiously. If anything happened to her because of his care the horse owners could still take legal action, if he did nothing he could have negligence charges brought against him. So he logged every feeding amount and time. After three months he posted legal notice of his intent to sell and sold her quickly to someone on the property. In the next four months she was sold two more times. The people who owned her at that point then impulsively bought another horse and needed to get rid of her fast. When in that week she didn't sell, they began talking about auction.

The thing about Annie is that she's young, so she doesn't have much training beyond ground manners; she's a rescue, so no one knows what her bloodlines are; and though she's pretty, she's not much prettier than most horses to unbiased eyes. She wasn't worth much at all. At auction she would sell to a killer. There are two slaughterhouses in North Texas that take horses.

I couldn't let that happen.

I have two horses. I've had this other wonderful, beautiful, quirky creature in my life and I haven't been able to say anything about her for fear someone would find out. Even in my daily life I had to censor myself so that I didn't slip in front of family, or someone who MIGHT know, or ever come into contact with, my family. It's almost been like I never owned her at all. I feel like keeping all of the love I have for her tucked away keeps me from being able to love her as much as I could.



Earlier this month an older horse at the farm died. He died defending himself against younger horses who were running him down. He kicked the main aggressor as hard as he could - throwing it backwards head over tail. When he kicked that other horse he used so much force that he broke his own leg. On Wednesday I got a call from his owner, "Q, this is Margy. I was told you're trying to sell Annie." And it was done. My problems were solved, I no longer have to feel guilty for the financial assistance offered by my family. I no longer have to feel guilty about the lack of time I have to spend training her, or the things I can't buy for her, myself, my other pets. I don't have to pick up every possible shift at the restaurant, and when I go to the farm I can go just to ride.

Now everyone knows, and all that stuff I had tucked away is caustic and seeping out. I am very sad. She's not leaving the farm, I have first option to purchase if she is even sold and I've been told I can ride her once she's trained; but she's not my Annie Bear any more. There will be fewer opportunities to have her check my pockets for goodies, nuzzle my hair, or willingly submit to kisses on her very, very soft muzzle.