RIP Dante, 2014  37 years old – give or take a few years

Dante came to us eight years ago as a free pony.  The riding school where he worked was losing their leased pasture due to owner property sale, and Dante couldn’t be on stall board due to heaves (a kind of equine asthma).  We were the perfect home with 80 acres of pasture and a nice barn run-in that he never seemed to use.  I’d go out in the pouring rain and he’d be soaked, unconcerned in the field.  There were days when he was out there with icicles on his fur.  No bad weather seemed to bother him – fitting for a guy who was part Highland Pony.

He’d been a cart pony at the school, giving driving lessons to both adults and children.  I barely knew how to ride, let alone drive, so at our farm he became a riding pony.  I hacked out around the farm with him.  My eldest son took riding lessons with him.  Dante gave kids a ride at birthday parties, ran games courses, and more.  He went through his days with a sort of grumpy stoicism, but underneath the crusty exterior, he was a loving, gentle guy.

He loved peanuts in the shell, carrots, and granola bars.  He was smart, easily learning the mechanics of gate latches.  Many mornings I’d look out the window to find him grazing on the front lawn.  Once PJ joined us, Dante would spring them both from the barn, and they’d head over to the neighbors to visit their horses.

I’ve heard horses called bombproof before, but Dante truly was.  Popping balloons, screaming kids, bikes and four-wheelers, dogs dashing between his legs – nothing bothered him.  He’d react with an irritated toss of his head, then go back to grazing or searching my pockets for treats.

When his arthritis started getting bad, we medicated him and semi-retired him to my youngest two.  A few years back, he became fully retired.  Arthritis in his hocks and front legs caused a persistent limp, but still he trotted lamely after the other horses, squealing at them if they pestered him.  He enjoyed the company of Ivan (a retired Thoroughbred), and the protection and affection of Donner (a huge Warmblood).  The three sheep took to him immediately, following him everywhere he went.  I think they’ll miss him as much as I will.

Last winter was so difficult for Dante.  It broke my heart to see him stiff and uncomfortable, even with medicine.  We soaked alfalfa cubes in warm water, gave him generous portions of senior feed, warmed his drinking water.  For the first time, he spent whole days in the barn run-in.  There were times when he lay down to rest and I feared he might not get up.  Spring came and Dante had a great summer. The warmth eased his joints, and the amazing grass that foundered so many horses this year put much needed weight on him.  He was a stoic pony, enjoying life even with the arthritis, but I knew this past summer would be his last.

I swore I’d never make him go through a winter like last year, and when the weather turned cold with sleet this weekend, I scheduled the vet to come out.

Love you, my grumpy sweet boy.  Run free on endless fields of the greenest grass over the rainbow bridge.