Leah's Story - B.N.P. (before NetPosse)

 by Leah Budd-Henrichs
Edited by Ellen Wright

            Red was a horse with "heart"-- he carted me thru horse show after horse show, always making me look good! He carried me down trails, he played in the mud on rainy days with me...he was everything a 12 year old girl could imagine in a relationship with a horse. I boarded Red Sails at a very large show barn, and although my trainers told me it was time to advance to a better horse, I could never pull the trigger and sell Red, so Red and I remained a team. As Red grew older, he started refusing some jumps for no readily apparent reason. After numerous tests and x-rays, etc., the vet made the diagnosis that he was in the early stages of navicular. I made the decision that Red wasn't going to be sold and passed along. Thankfully, there was a place to retire Red to a beautiful 30 acres pasture at a privately owned property amongst other horses but with his own stall to come in at night. 

            The year was 1977, and I was now 17 and finishing school, holding a part time job to help with horse bills, etc. I would go out to check on Red 2-3 times per week, meet a farrier there, make sure the people running the place were feeding him properly etc. Red looked good and appeared very happy.

            Then after a long Thanksgiving Day weekend, the call came. It was the police asking about the horses at this particular stable, and whether or not we were owners of horse or horses stabled there. Of course, my car could not get there fast enough, and, upon my arrival, I met with several other boarders milling around the property.

            Evidently, the police had begun an investigation about the situation at this barn because several horses had broken out of the pasture. Upon going to the property to contact the barn owners, they discovered that, over the long holiday, the owners had packed up their belongings and vacated the property, leaving the horses and a couple dogs behind. Other owners were there loading horses onto trailers and making arrangements to get them elsewhere.

            However, where was MY horse?

            I walked the pasture, hoping he was in the thicket of trees; I called his name as he always nickered back to me. I whistled...Red knew his special whistle and would come running-but no Red came. I walked back up to the barn and told the police that my horse must still be running loose somewhere. While telling the police this, I happened to glance towards the space my tack trunk occupied, and it too was gone.

            It hit me then-and I will never forget the feeling of ice running thru my veins-Red had been stolen. Red and my tack trunk were gone. He was the only horse taken from the property. Of course, the owners knew his past, his skill level, etc. What they didn't know he was navicular. 

            I filed a police report, called county sheriffs, posted flyers, called his vet of the last 10 years, called his farrier, went to show barns, ...I told everyone I could think of to PLEASE pass the word that Red Sails is gone! “Social networking" did not exist back then; we didn't have the "www" or World Wide Web. Never have I experienced such a sense of helplessness in my 51 years. Paper...that's all we had back then, was paper.

            Years passed, but the hole in my heart never healed--it literally gaped. I received many calls; many, many calls over the years that Red Sails had been seen at a horse show in this state or that state, and my vehicle burned the pavement getting there. I would arrive only to find that it was not my Red Sails. The countless wild goose chases I embarked on are too numerous to recall. I worried about him constantly-are they feeding him? Are they putting pads on his feet at the correct angle to make sure he is in no pain? Is he warm at night? Are they blanketing him? It never, ever goes away...ever.

In the eighth year, I received a call from a boy I used to show with, now a young man, that he knew where Red Sails was. I chuckled to myself-thinking “yeah, right”, but listened. Besides, what did I have to lose? I got in my car and rode over to the address he gave me. Within 15 miles of the barn Red was stolen from, I drove down a long dirt potholed driveway, and pulled up to a much neglected run down farm house. Behind the farm house was a large grass pasture with a lean to out in the middle of it.

            No one came out of the house, dogs ran up to the car, but I didn't think twice. I got out of my car and walked up to the fence. At the top of my lungs I yelled "Redaroo!" and listened-and wonder of wonders, I heard it, Red answered back! It was my Red. His head popped up from the grass, and he too listened. I whistled--and he burst into a full run and thundered across that pasture to the fence line. Horses aren't smart? Horses don't remember? Ha! Red remembered.

            By this time, the owner of the property had come out and asked what I was doing there. I explained to him why I was there and asked him why he had my horse. Of course, his first response was "How do I know it’s YOUR horse". I had to think quickly. I had my photo album in my car, showing me standing with Red with all the trophies, ribbons, etc. Was that enough? A solid liver chestnut with a tiny white start on his forehead looks pretty much like any other horse. It had to be something only Red and I would know. I turned to Red and I asked him "Red, Bow for the judges", and, at that instant, Red spread his front legs and dipped his nose between his legs, bobbing his head up and down. Then I said "Red, shake hands with the judge", and Red extended his front leg out to me.

            Of course, by now I was in tears. He never forgot me, just as I had never forgot him. I asked the man where he had gotten my horse, as the horse had been apparently stolen. He explained to me that he didn't buy the horse at all, that the horse had wandered onto his property on a very cold day 8 years ago, bleeding badly and with a huge abrasion on his shoulder. He had called a vet and had the horse treated, cared for it, fed it etc. for the last 8 years.

            It all came together in my head. The people who stole my horse knew about his past show record, knew his skills, but did NOT know that Red Sails was terrified of horse trailers. My trainer always loaded him for me and knew where to put him in the trailer to make him feel more comforted by others. Evidently, Red was stolen in a small bumper pull trailer and wasn't closed in properly, as the vet said it appeared he had kicked the back open and had fallen out of the moving trailer, and the abrasion was "road rash".

            Of course, the man believed it was my horse, but did not want to give him back to me as he had paid the vet bills and fed him for 8 years. I hired an attorney, who said the man had an obligation to report the finding of a horse walking onto his property, and that we now wanted $35.00 per hour for every hour he rode the horse in the last 8 years. After a legal battle, that I could see was going to be ridiculously long, I really had to rethink the whole situation. I knew I could outlast the man financially in the battle, but what would I really win? I would get Red back, and he would go back to a boarding stable to stand in a stall and look at four walls. The man didn't mistreat Red; in fact, he loved Red. He just didn't do the right thing and report finding him. Not out of maliciousness, just out of plain not knowing any better.

            I called off the lawsuit. I made an arrangement with the man that Red could stay on his 30 acres, and graze daily and live out the rest of his life in this very pretty setting, provided that I was allowed to bring a farrier there every 6 weeks, come and visit him and make sure he was holding his weight good, getting his teeth floated, etc. The man agreed. I only had a year with him, as Red then died at the age of 25, peacefully and in a lush pasture of grass and timber. At least I knew--the hole in my heart started to heal.

            People, be so thankful you have something like NetPosse.com out there now! Help them to help you in any way you can. I have always wondered if things would have gone differently had I had such a wonderful tool available to me at that time.