I was three when my first pony came into my life. He was rescued by my father from a woman who couldn’t take him with her. His name was Taco; a mousey-colored Shetland Pony with all kinds of sass, and a personality to go with it. He was a pony, so what else was I to expect?

He was the start of my love affair with horses, and rescues. They have a certain understanding that their fortunes have changed. A deep penetrating gaze that is both trusting and skeptical – almost as if they are waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m proud to say that I know where all my rescues have gone, if they didn’t stay with me. Now, as a rescuer with a mission, they will never need to wonder where they will end up again. I have their back. It’s a privilege to do it. It’s why I have gone back to using rescued horses with those who are struggling. They get each other. There’s an innate sense that their paths are connected for a reason. It’s a beautiful thing to see.

I am grateful. I hope you discover, if you are reading this, the connection to that deeper Equine empathy. There’s truly nothing like it.