The First Horse I Ever Loved: My Friendship with Chip

He was a solid black, every inch of him

I guess I should say that he was one of the first horses I’ve loved. But what’s different about this horse is that I never owned him, never rode him, never worked with him, never even interacted with him outside of his stall. But he somehow captured a piece of my heart and left me with memories that I’ll never forget.

As a twelve-year-old who had just started taking horseback riding lessons, going to the stables every Tuesday afternoon was my favorite time of the week. There my siblings and I would get to share an hour-long group lesson riding a little paint pony (see how much he changed my life! https://theamazinggracesta.wixsite.com/letsride/post/tears-and-triumphs-cutter-s-story). On our first day there, I explored all of the barns, greeting every horse there and reading the names written on their stall doors. That’s when I met Chip. I remember feeling him looking at me as I entered his part of the barn. He didn’t take his eyes off me as I walked toward him. 

“Hey there, sweet boy,” I said as I reached out to stroke his face. 

His name was written on the metal plaque on his stall. He was a solid black, every inch of him - his face, his coat, his mane and tail. Not a shiny black like the horses you might see in the magazines, but more of a chalkboard black. The only thing that wasn’t black were the flecks of gold in his expressive eyes

“You’re beautiful, Chip,” I told him.

He nickered softly and I laughed. Soon it was time for our lesson to start.

“Bye, Chip. See you later. I’ll bring you a carrot next time.” I promised as I hurried to join the others.

The next week I came to the stables with a ziplock of chopped carrots and apples. While my family handed out treats in the first barn, I slipped over to find Chip. He looked up as I came in.

“Hey, boy, I brought you something.” 

He accepted the treats with excitement, nuzzling my hands in search of more. I kissed his nose and rubbed his face. He was one of the first horses I interacted with on my own. And with Chip as my voluntary teacher, I would come to find out that I had a lot to learn. If I came running into the barn, he might retreat to the back of his stall. He’d come back to the door, with some coaxing. But that is what taught me how to move slower around horses. If I bumped against the stall or moved my hand too quickly in a blind spot (like under his face) he would let me know that it made him feel more nervous. It was Chip who taught me how much horses love soft voices and gentle strokes. He showed how important presence is to horses. He helped me begin my journey into learning the language of horses (Check out this to learn more about that! https://theamazinggracesta.wixsite.com/letsride/post/horse-talk-part-2-how-horses-communicate-with-us). And he did it all quietly, patiently. He was not bothered by a little girl’s enthusiasm, and willingly let me love on him.

Whenever I spoke to him, I felt as though I had his complete attention. He always seemed to be listening, understanding. No judgment, no hurry, just a listening ear. And so, in the year that I took lessons there, he became my confidant, my friend. He knew all my secrets, he knew if I’d been scared or had a rough week. He heard about anything exciting that had happened, or when a birthday was coming up. I usually had a treat for him tucked in my pocket. But even if I didn’t, he still seemed to just enjoy spending time with me. 

There were some strange things about him, too, though. Somethings that I didn’t understand at first. Like how he’d startle at normal sounds one day; sounds hadn’t bothered him before. Or when a horse that walked by often suddenly had him concerned. It worried me a little. But then I didn’t know much about horses, so I wasn’t sure what was normal and what wasn’t. But what really began to worry me was that occasionally, when I’d make my weekly visit, he’d act differently. It was almost as though he didn’t remember who I was. Oh, he’d warm back up to me pretty quickly, but I wasn’t sure what was wrong. He’d have an unfamiliar look in his gold-speckled eyes. I hadn’t known him for long, but he had become important to me. 

Being a very shy child, it took me a little while to ask our instructor, Jessica, about him.

“Is Chip okay? Is he healthy?”

“Chip? Oh, yes, he’s fine.” She replied while putting the saddle in the tack room after our lesson.

“Then can we ride Chip someday?” I built up the courage to ask.

Jessica shook her head. She went on to explain that no one rode Chip anymore. A few years back they had noticed that he wasn’t responding well to be worked, like he had forgotten how to have people ride on his back. So after a vet visit, that indicated he had lost some cognitive skills, the stable had decided to retire him. Over time, his forgetfulness had gotten worse. Though there has been little research into these conditions with horses, Chip was, essentially, suffering from dementia. 

It was hard news to take in. Yet it explained all the symptoms that I had seen during my time with him. And knowing this would enable me to interact with him better. Now I understood it all. And it didn’t matter to me if I could ride him or not. I knew Chip was still a special boy and I loved him just as he was. We continued to have our weekly visits together. Sometimes it was only for a few minutes, but I think we both enjoyed it.

Then one day I overheard our instructor, Jessica talking with another one of the barn workers. When I heard them mention Chip, I moved closer to hear better. 

“I think it’s time. He’d do good there, with the other retired horses. Won’t have to be around so much activity. Might help him relax.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

“I’ll talk to them about it, but it should be soon.”

I understood what they were talking about, moving Chip to one of their private homes. And even though I loved being with him, I also knew they were right. It would be better for him. With a heavy heart, I went to his stall.

“Hey, Chip,” I held out my hand as I drew near. “I love you, boy. Thanks for being my friend.”

He ate the apple slice I’d brought and let me hug his face.

When I went to see him a few weeks later, my heart caught. His stall was empty. I walked over there and ran my hand over his name. 

“Goodbye, Chip.” I whispered.

I reminded myself how much happier he was going to be, getting more personalized care, and more room to move. But I missed him, missed his presence, his face, his listening ear.

The next week, there was another horse in his stall. It was hard to see. His name was even still on the door. I found myself trying not to look as we went through the barn.

I’ve never forgotten my friend, Chip. I feel blessed that he shared his heart with me. In the short time I knew him, he played such an important role in my first steps into the world of horses. And I hope that wherever he went he was always loved for the special boy that he is.