My Teacher, My Friend: Dolly’s Story

“Think I found the perfect horse for you guys.”

After the completely uneducated buying of our first horse, Cutter, it was such a joy to hear our neighbor say these words. They even offered to go with us to take a look at this twelve-year-old mare. A couple of phone calls later it was all arranged. In just a few days our whole family was driving down a narrow gravel road, following our neighbor’s truck to a small house and barn almost hidden amongst the trees. An old wooden, white fence lined the road in front. Pulling into the driveway, I saw her. Her dark brown coat, the color of dark chocolate, glinted in the sunlight. She had a white sock and a white stocking on her hind legs, each one with speckles of brown on them - a testament to her half-Appaloosa breed. Her mane and tail were just a shade darker than her fur; her tail almost brushing the ground. And a white blaze went down her face. She was perfect.

The moment the wheels stopped turning, my feet hit the ground. As I approached the old front porch where she was tied, she turned her head to look at me. I was immediately lost in her calm brown/black eyes. 

“Hi,” I whispered, reaching out to stroke her shoulder.

The screech of unoiled hinges alerted me to the faded screen door opening. An older gentleman stepped onto the porch with a friendly welcome. He wore a wrinkled, plaid, button-up shirt and faded blue jeans. With a short gray beard and mustache, he looked as though he’d just stepped out of an old western. 

His tanned face broke into a smile. “Well, I see ya met Dolly.” His words rolled out quickly as he walked down the steps. “She’s a pretty thing.” He patted her as he came to stand near me. “Want’a ride her?”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

“Well, alright then.” He told us all about her as he brushed her down and put on her bridle. “I hate to let her go,” He confessed. “But she deserves to be gettin’ used. She loves going for rides.”

Our horse-savvy friends asked some questions and I could tell they were pleased with the answers. Laying the saddle blanket on Dolly’s back and reaching for the saddle, the owner turned to me, where I stood rubbing her face. 

“Well, let me show ya how she rides.” The gentleman swung into the saddle, backed Dolly up a few feet, and rode down the short driveway to the road. I walked closer to watch as he rode some circles, trotted and loped her, and backed her up again. Dolly did it all easily. He loped back to the house, slowing her to a walk as he neared us and dismounted.

“Want ta’ get on her next?” The owner directed the question to me. 

I instantly nodded. But as he handed me the reins, I felt my heartbeat go double time. Only two weeks earlier, I had been bucked off my first horse, Cutter, twice in a row. The bruises were still healing. But more than that, my confidence still lay in shards around me. And I didn’t know how to pick up the pieces. All I did know was that my heart still needed horses like my lungs needed air. But how could I do it, if this fear gripped me every time I thought about getting on one? One hand held the reins; the other was resting on Dolly’s side. At that moment, I felt Dolly take a deep breath. It felt as though she was trying to let some of her calmness seep into me. My hands were still shaky, but I found enough strength to climb into the saddle. 

I slowly turned Dolly around to ride down the driveway. My muscles were tight and my breathing was shallow. But Dolly’s steps were slow and gentle. I directed her down the gravel road. I should’ve trotted her, loped her some. But all I managed was to simply walk her in one big loop. Yet somewhere in those few minutes, Dolly had claimed a piece of my heart and imparted to me a piece of hers. She gave me hope that I could have the courage to really ride.

Dolly came home to us two days later. 

I woke up the next morning at the break of dawn. Both Dolly and Cutter were waiting for me at the gate. I rubbed my hand down her silky coat. “Want to go for a ride?” I asked. She bobbed her head as though she understood what I’d said. And our adventures together began.

Dolly settled into our family as though she’d always been with us. She and Cutter got along great. She enjoyed all the attention. And of her own inclinations, she began teaching this horse-crazy girl, teaching all of us - how to ride, how to work with horses, how to listen, how to follow and to guide.

At the time, I didn’t understand how incredible it was. But looking back on those early years of my horsemanship, I am in awe of all that Dolly did for me, for us. She was so careful with my two youngest brothers, who were ten and eight at the time. She would gallop for my fourteen-year-old brother who loved speed. She would stand for hours while my sister brushed her. She was so patient with my fears, gauging me each day and somehow giving me what I needed at that time. She knew when to take it slow with me; she knew when to push me to take a step outside my comfort zone. She made it her priority to take care of us. I could tell you story after story of ways she protected us, was there for us.

I remember the first time I tried riding her bareback (riding without a saddle). I was timid but excited. She stood still while I figured out how to get on; she took slow steps as I struggled to find my balance. As I rode her bareback more and more, she would go quicker - always adjusting to my abilities at the time. It took some time, but slowly I was gaining confidence. I began going further, going faster on horseback. I found freedom instead of panic when I climbed in the saddle. I got to experience the thrill instead of the fear of loping through a grassy field. I rediscovered all the joys that fear had stolen from me. 

It was Dolly who, years later, inspired me to start giving horseback riding lessons. It began with a neighbor, whose little girl loved horses but was scared to ride. Together, Dolly and I, helped her to climb on and find out how much fun it could be. Not long afterward, I brought Dolly and Cutter to the same little girl’s birthday party just up the road from us. Dolly gave rides to all twelve children, ages two to fourteen, being so careful. I watched her take these tiny steps so she wouldn’t jostle the younger riders. Even some of the parents came over, first just to watch the children ride. Soon some were asking, “Can I get on, too? 

I smile and nod. “Of course, you can!”

Dolly remained perfectly calm the whole time. Letting everyone love on her, dropping her head low so even the smallest child could rub her face. Watching her interact with people who’d never been around horses before was when a new dream began for me. The idea for Amazing Grace Stables was born.

That was a little over six years ago. It’s clear to see that Dolly still loves giving riding lessons as much as I do. She knows when I begin getting things ready that one of her students is coming and she eagerly anticipates each lesson. 

Tomorrow morning, we have a lesson scheduled. I’ll bring out her saddle, bridle, and leather halter. I’ll start brushing dirt from her silky coat.

“You ready to do this, Dolly?” I’ll say as I pat her shoulder. “They’ll be here soon.” 

She’ll look at me and then watch the road as though she knows exactly what I said.

It’s during moments like these that I just have to stop and realize: I’m living my dream. And best of all, I'm getting to help others live theirs as well through riding lessons.

And I owe it all to Dolly. Her patience, her encouragement, her gentle pushes down through the years. She listened to me. She forced me to be honest with her and with myself. She helped me see that I didn’t have to be limited by false walls of panic. She is the one who opened the door to the world of horses for me. And the one who has been with me every step of the way.

She is the one who showed me that change is possible and that dreams really do come true.

Thank you, Dolly, from the bottom of my heart - I’m forever grateful for who you are and all you do. I promise to never forget what an amazing girl you are!