A Penny Saved

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By Steve Montemarano -- I sat upon an upside-down water bucket in the shedrow holding a shank as the Thoroughbred soaked a newly bowed tendon. The colt, nicknamed Penny, looked well--his coat gleamed. The morning training activity proceeded but we were excluded. There were people shuffling through the trainer's office. They were not the usual visitors.

The office activity concerned Penny's future. His injury instantly reduced his worth from thousands of dollars to fifty cents a pound. The trainer was under pressure to do something. The stall needed to be filled and the owner's expense minimized. I looked at Penny and felt his vulnerability. Another rider said, "It's a shame; he'd make a good riding horse. He's got sense." His swollen foreleg radiated heat as it was wiped dry.

Something had to be done. With the urging of barn help I made an offer to the trainer. His reply was: "You've got kids to feed; what the heck you gonna do with that horse?" After some debate he said, "OK, get that sum bitch outta here." The trainer refused any money. The odyssey of horse ownership began.

Penny arrived at a small farm near Monmouth Park. After some acclimation we held our breath and led him into a small field. Penny was a strapping colt who required two grooms to lead him to the paddock. Yet, after unsnapping the shank, he thrust his head into the grass and calmly grazed. Then he rolled, and groaned, and rolled again. His competitive fire was matched by good judgment. I knew this would work.

We learned a lot from each other. But I learned more from him. He taught me how to ride and never once tried to buck me off. In order to manage expenses Penny was rough boarded. The pasture and fencing were good and there was a neatly bedded stall for shelter from stormy nights. I visited every morning and evening to feed and check up on him. In 13 years he never missed a meal. If I was stressed out he would let me know. He mirrored my everyday outlook on life. When we came to common ground he would take a deep breath and exhale with that distinctive nasal flutter. We were at peace.

Sometimes the days were long and the chores many. Cold winter mornings made me question horse ownership as water trough ice chards sprayed in my face with each hammer blow. Sometimes the feed bill was due at the same time as the car payment. But these feelings were short-lived. There's nothing as satisfying as seeing a happy horse swing its head over the stall webbing while munching on clean hay. Even better was his expression when eating a hot bran mash on a winter's night. The bran would cover Penny's face--like a child eating a Fudgsicle.

Recently there were significant life changes, financial uncertainty, and a 600-mile move to another state. I worried about Penny and how to care for him. As if from heaven, a veterinarian contacted me about a client who desired another horse. When I asked further the vet only said, "It's horse heaven." So, with mixed feelings, I checked it out. The farm is idyllic. A stall door opened into a 10-acre grass paddock. There was good fencing and an indoor riding arena with a shredded leather base. The only shredded leather Penny had seen to that point was his old halter. There are other horses, deer, and even a famous rock 'n' roll star as a neighbor.

The owner and I talked. She told me her daughter recently passed away, as did her favorite horse. I spoke to her about personal hardship too; things you could never say to most. We drank bourbon and wiped our tears.

When I loaded Penny into a two-horse trailer for the short van ride he followed without a balk, his trust unfailing. A few months ago I visited him. As he grazed 100 yards away I whistled in the customary way. He galloped straight into the stall in no time flat. He then arched his neck over the door and laid it on my shoulder. The farm owner cried and said Penny will always be mine. I hope someday we'll be together again. But for now he's helping someone else and I can only be grateful for all he's done.

Former backstretch worker Steve Montemarano is a freelance writer based in New Jersey.

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