
I Lost My Heart Horse
I really thought she would be one of those horses that lived forever. If she hadn’t hurt her hind fetlock, we would have still be having rides. But as I was pulled in so many directions, I was too busy to ride anyway, so she was my beautiful pasture ornament, hanging out with my one remaining equine on the property, Pony.
It was harder to put weight on her, and we begin having regular visits from the vet to check on her condition, but otherwise, she basically just existed. We spent casual time together, doing some grooming, getting some scratches, but nothing formal (no teas or nights out.)
One day, I decided to take a short ride on her. Very short, as I didn’t want to hurt her, but I just wanted one more moment with her. I had a feeling it would be my very last ride on her, but only because I knew it wasn’t something she should do often – not because I expected her to die just months later.
Fast forward to just January, and it’s time for snow and a polar vortex. It’s not something I even think will be a concern, we’ve dealt with it before. I have a barn full of hay and grain, we’ve got water, there’s shelter, it all should be fine. And maybe it was, as first. But, very suddenly, she’s not doing good. She went from fine, to spending 95% of her time laying down. Every time she stands, she trembles until she falls over. She’s barely able to walk. Her legs were massively swollen. I had to bring food and water to her, as she couldn’t get back to the barn.
The vet comes out. There’s not much we can do for this almost 28 year old horse that can’t stand. It was time to put her down.
I’m grateful to my wonderful, compassionate vet, who helped me through this process. And I’m glad my kids choose this time to go play in the snow, out of view of the event.
On January 30, 2025, Vintage passed away, with me, her owner of 22 years, and her faithful Pony companion by her side. I told her over and over again she was a good girl, and she’d always done everything we’ve asked of her.
I had already been mourning the loss of my beautiful dog, Paxton, a few weeks ago. Now I had two wonderful pets dying within weeks of each other.


Go Over All The Memories
My vet was super kind about everything. He explained the whole process to me, and told me I was doing her a kindness.
As he was leaving, he told me the best thing I can do is focus on the good memories. Think of all the good times we had together. That’s what I’m trying to do, because everything else hurts so much.
I remember the first time I ever saw her, in 2003. She was tied to a trailer in a parking lot, dancing around nervously, and I thought she was the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen. She was small, something that would end up bothering me for years, and then ending up not mattering at all, but she held herself so beautifully. I was in love.
It was very much a case of being too green of a rider for this green horse. I started taking lessons on her, but it seemed like a mess. There was a time when my trainer had me convinced I needed to sell her to buy a “real horse,” and I almost did it. I was showing her off to a potential buyer when I realized again how beautiful she looked. How she stood quietly on the crossties. How well she behaved under saddle. I realized she was coming along, she wasn’t just the unruly barely broke horse I started with.
I keep plugging along in lessons, and studying my riding books, and I learned how to train her. I learned to be confident with her. One of the biggest moments of my riding life was the day I decided to ride her alone to go meet with friends. I was terrified, but I really wanted it, so I just did it. I surprised myself by how well it went. After that, we were unstoppable.




She went from being green to being the bravest, most willing horse I’d ever ridden. I was proud to show her to others. I was eager to let other people ride her and see how amazing she was under saddle. She responded to a whisper, a thought. It was like we could read each other’s minds. She was energetic and enthusiastic, but so sensible. Literally the most perfect partner one could ask for. I never felt unsafe on her.




I rode her everywhere. We ended up on construction sites, jumping the materials. One time we accidently ended up in quick sand, or at least what seemed like it (Is quick sand real, or just something made up in the 80s to scare us?). We sank all the way up to her belly, but she pulled out of it.
My number one memory of all time is taking her to the C&O Canal and swimming in the Potomac. It was me, and Vintage, my other horse Clay, and two of my friend’s horses. Vintage ended up being the only one that would swim in the deep water, and she did it over and over again for us. We doubled up on her back to swim through, and one time I grabbed her tail and was pulled along through the water. I still remember that as one of the best rides of my life.

Later on, I got Berry, so I was taking lessons on her, and she became my primary horse. But Vintage was the second horse, good for the days I wanted to ride both, or for when friends wanted to ride. I still loved showing other people how amazing she was.

But there was her injury. I had put her in a stall while we took out Berry and Pony, and she did not take kindly to that. She jumped out of her stall through the window and injured herself. That was possibly the beginning to the end. She went to semi-retirement, with injections to keep her sound. But then I was so busy was the other horses, and then the kids, that she wasn’t being ridden at all. So I dropped the injections and she became just a beautiful pasture ornament.
For years, she’s just lived out her best feral life. I was heart broken to sell Berry, her best friend of 10 years, but I was spread so thin I couldn’t keep up with everything. Pony was her only companion for the last two years.


I wish I had spent more time with her. I wish I had taken more photos of her. Why couldn’t there have been more time? Between her and Paxton, my heart can’t take the pain.
After all of this, I am hurting for my old horses. I reached out to Berry’s new owner, and luckily I did hear that Berry is now doing better. She’s with a new barn who worked out her issues and is doing well with her. But I wish I could have her back. I should have never sold her. Maybe one day she will come back to me.

I am grateful my children got to meet Vintage. Although they never truly rode her, they did spend some time sitting on her. Nothing has filled my heart more than my children sitting on the horse I love so much. She has never been frightened of them, despite their loud and sporadic nature. She truly was a unicorn.


The Void
I go down to the barn and it’s silent. Pony is still there, of course, and the only times the silence breaks is when he talks to me. He actually responds when I speak to him, which is kind of neat, it’s the only time life has been like those ridiculous horse movies.
I don’t just feel the loss of Vintage, I hurt for Berry, too. I gave her up willingly, and I regret it so much. I miss my dream team, my three amigos, my perfect herd. I didn’t realize how perfect they all were together until now.
I feel like I just lost Paxton all over again, too. He’s buried down near the barn, very close to where Vintage is now buried. It wasn’t planned, the burial man picked the spot, but they ended up within 50 feet of each other. They didn’t spend much time together in life, but now they are companions in death.
Moving around the barn is surreal. There’s no faces watching me work. There’s no heads hanging over the fence, hoping for a pet. It’s just me and Pony.
He’s handling the loss better than I expected. He spent a lot of time in the spot where he last saw her, where she had spent her final moments. He circled, he called, he then searched the pasture. I stood out there with him so he wasn’t alone, but he wasn’t interested in me. He just wanted his friend back.
I visit him a lot, so he knows he’s not totally alone. He needs a new friend, or he needs to be moved to a barn with friends. We haven’t figured out the best solution yet. But he seems calm, for now. He wanders and he watches. He will stand near me as I do barn work, but doesn’t seem too concerned when I leave.
I’ve been spending my few hours searching online for a new friend for him. I know he needs one, but it hurts to think of getting another horse. I don’t feel ready for more. The emptiness from Vintage and Berry should only be filled by them. But that’s not going to happen. That life is over. The dream team is gone forever.