By Lynndee Kemmet

Everyone who chooses to live life with horses must surely face a day when the decision must be made to move an equine friend from this world to the next. Last week was one such time for me. Making that decision for two old equine friends – buddies who had been together for more than 20 years – was hard enough, following through to the end was even harder. These two horses had been part of my life for over two decades, which meant that they had seen me through many phases of my life.

I believe that for many people, the pain of loss – whether of an equine friend or a human friend – can be eased if a way can be found to honor the one, or ones, lost. I honor my two friends by sharing their story. I wrote it the night before their departure from this world and in writing it, I came to realize that what I was most remembering was the relationship I had built and shared with them over the years, not the awards or ribbons they earned for me. I hope that others, in reading the story of Easy and Annie, will also come to realize that one really can build friendships with horses that can bring us good times in life but that can also carry us through the bad times.

Easy’s Story:

Easy’s story begins with the death of my father. The worst thing about going to college was that I had to give up my horses. Once out in the work world with my first full-time journalism job all I could think about was getting another horse. But with rent, car payment, insurance, credit card bills and student loan, monthly horse board was out of reach. And then my father died rather suddenly and out of his estate came just enough money to pay off my truck and credit cards. With no monthly truck and credit card payments, monthly horse board was no longer out of reach.

There was an ad in our newspaper about horses for sale “cheap.” I kid you not, it said “cheap.” The guy who owned Easy was an old cowboy named John Ivey. John’s dad had bought up tons of acres of desert outside of Palm Springs after World War II, ran a cattle ranch on it and then eventually sold it to developers in the 1980s and became a multi-millionaire. But all John knew was ranching so his dad kept a small section of land on which John ran a boarding stable and trail riding business.

I called up on the ad and asked John what cheap meant and he suggested I just come look at the horses. He was selling four. I was immediately drawn to the Appaloosa. He tried steering me toward one of the other three. When I went into Easy’s pen to look him over he charged, ears flat back and teeth ready for attack. Here I must tell two stories of Easy. One is that I once caught him chasing the barn help around his pen. Poncho had the wheelbarrow in the middle of Easy’s pen and Easy was chasing him around it as Poncho yelled at him to get away and tried poking him with a pitchfork. The other story is that when all the horses were turned out in the big field, Easy waited for people to come into the field to fetch their horses. One girl in particular was a victim. Easy was not stupid. He let people get a long way from the gate before charging them. I also once saw him use the same tactic with a goose that wandered into his field.  This poor girl once went to John crying about how Easy would never let her get her horse and John said in his best cowboy drawl, “It’s your own fault because you run. Now ole’ Easy, he won’t chase you if you don’t run.” Well, when Easy charged me in his pen, I didn’t run. I smacked his head just as he got to me and told him we should get along because I wanted to buy him. A certain level of understanding was reached that day but Easy spent the next 24 years reminding me who is really in charge.

I must digress and point out that John had Parkinson’s disease and hence controlling Easy wasn’t, well, easy. John did have tremendous respect for Easy. He showed him in Western competitions and had won a fair share of trophies. And he once told me that if the police were ever after him I’d find my horse missing because Easy – that ‘son of a bitch’, as John always called him – was the one horse who could blaze a trail anywhere and go for days. But after Easy dragged John through a parking lot at a show – people tell me it was amazing they didn’t dent a lot of cars and take off side mirrors as John preferred to be dragged rather than let go of that “son of a bitch” – John decided it was time to unload Easy. Mind you, Easy was well-bred. His sire was a top western show horse on the West Coast. And so, a fair number of people actually bought Easy from John. But after putting up with him for a month or two, they would call John and demand he come get the horse and refund their money. The local tack store owners once told me that John had a for sale sign in there for Easy. Every now and then he’d come in, cross out the price, and write a lower one.

And then I came along. By then John had gotten smarter. First, he told me I couldn’t buy the horse unless I came back the next day and we went for a trail ride – just to make sure I could handle the horse. I came back, we rode and John agreed I could buy him. Then he told me his deal. He’d sell me the horse for $1,250 dollars and he’d give me 10 months free board. See, John’s theory was that if I had to keep the horse with him for 10 months then at least he wouldn’t have to go fetch him after I got fed up with Easy and gave him back. The last person who bought him had been three hours away and John was tired of long drives to fetch back Easy.

Well, problem was I could afford monthly board but I didn’t have $1,250. John charged $125 a month for board. So I countered with my own proposal. How about give me the horse for free and I’ll just start paying board right away? John thought about that, figured out that money-wise it came out the same and agreed – so long as I still boarded with him for at least 10 months. We had a deal.

And then other boarders made odd comments – ah, so you bought EASY, hmm? That got me suspicious. One nice thing about the horse crowd in California’s Coachella Valley is that they do like to party together. So within the week I was at one of those parties and the local veterinarian, named Steve Carter, was there. So I introduced myself and told him I had bought Easy. He looked at me and laughed too. So I asked him if there was something physically wrong with this horse that I should know about. Steve just looked at me and said  – “There’s nothing physically wrong with him, he’s just crazy, you know?” No, I didn’t know.

I grew up riding and showing Western but in my teens I wanted to get into jumping. Unfortunately, my parents could not afford to buy me new tack and pay for a jumping instructor. And so, that dream had to wait – until Easy. Now I had a horse again, I was an adult, I could pursue my jumping dream. So I got Easy and then I got a jumping saddle. I put it on one night to try out this English riding and off we went into the desert. Easy did what he was well-known for with John, he took off on me. Dead gallop the miles back to the ranch. I did great until we got right before the ranch and he was dead on toward the big manure pile. Right in front of it he cut right and I went straight. Didn’t have a saddle horn on this jumping saddle but the landing in the pile of crap was soft. I walked back to the ranch to find Poncho holding Easy. “I told Easy he’s in BIG trouble when you get back,” Poncho said. Yea, he was. Here I should mention that I once bought those riding tennis shoes. My theory was that at least when Easy left me miles from the ranch it would b easier to jog back in those than paddock boots. They came in handy the very first week I bought them and had a one mile job back. Yep, my friend Sally Ellis remembers this well as she sometimes saw me jogging back long after Easy had already gotten home.

I decided I needed some help if I was going to make this switch to jumping. I had seen a guy around working with a dressage rider so I asked her for the name of her trainer. Alan Thompson was his name and he was actually an event rider. It turned out that he had also once worked with Easy when one of the many people who bought him and returned him had called Alan for lessons and help. I called Alan and told him I had bought Easy. “I know, people say the horse is crazy” I told him to which Alan replied, “He’s not crazy. Problem is he’s extremely intelligent and doesn’t have much use for people because most of us are dumber than him.” Alan had great respect for Easy and vice versa. Always when things went wrong Alan would tell me, “get over here and get off. I have to see if it’s you or him.” Of course, with Alan on board, Easy was perfect and so he’d come back, get off, hand me the reins and say, “it’s you.”  That was a many years relationship with Alan and I give Alan much credit for teaching me the importance of respecting the horse.

Here I must note that John Ivey became one of our greatest supporters. He would loan me his truck and trailer so that Easy and I could get to shows. I would leave him my small truck to use for the day in exchange. Although this did concern me after my friend Jeep asked if I’d ever actually seen him drive my truck around. I hadn’t. She pointed out that with his Parkinson’s and my truck being a stick shift the transition between gears wasn’t all that smooth. “Don’t be surprised if your transmission goes early,” she said. Hmm…

John once said the best thing he did in life was put Easy and I together. He bragged about us all over town. I once went to the tack store and was told how impressed people were that Easy and I were jumping six foot jumps. Really? That was news to both Easy and I. Truth was Easy could jump, but he was not stellar. My friend Sally loves to tell people that the first time she met Easy and I it was watching us work with Alan and that Easy kept cutting to the right and sending me over the jump alone.  He had a particular dislike for combinations. And at one show he came into a line beautifully set up until he looked past the first jump and saw that it was actually a line of three. He cut right – Alan always wanted to know why I never figured out that he was always going right. Proof he said that the horse was smarter than me. Needless to say, I took down the fence. I caught Easy, got back on and decided disqualified or not we were doing this line. Now Alan, when Easy would back off a jump, would get on and yell at him coming into the line saying, “get your Appaloosa ass over that jump.” It worked for Alan so I figured why not try it? Once the jump was back up I came into that triple combination and yelled the same thing. It had spectators laughing but it worked. Easy sailed through beautifully. That was also the day I learned that veterinarians don’t know much about human anatomy. I had injured my shoulder when Easy sent me into the jump so I went next door to my friend’s vet clinic. They X-rayed my shoulder and then there were two vets looking at my X-ray saying, “should there be a separation like that in the shoulder?” Their way of answering that question was to X-ray my other shoulder and do a comparison. “Oh, that one has a separation too so I guess it’s normal.” Translation – no need to go to the emergency room.

There is a story behind the fabulous photo here of Easy and I on a cross country course. We were doing training that day and once again John Ivey came along. His way of getting Easy over a jump he didn’t like was to stand on other side and say, “Ole Easy, come on over to this side.” Provided with the potential opportunity to run down John, Easy took it. Of this particular jump in the photo, there were actually three jumps lined up. The middle one was the lower, more inviting jump. The one on the right was the biggest. We were aiming for the middle jump, but you know Easy, he always cuts right and when he did, we faced the biggest hurdle of the three. All I remember was asking him in my brain, “Can you jump this?”and I felt his body say, “uh, don’t know, but we’re going.” We made it and it says everything about our relationship. We argued and fought, like the proverbial old married couple, for more than 20 years but always when push came to shove or the chips were down, I always felt that he was there for me and together we could face anything. It was our relationship that always kept me from ever feeling completely alone.

In our early days together, Alan used to send Easy and I to dressage shows, “just for practice.” But Alan warned we wouldn’t win because Easy was an Appaloosa. It actually did happen that at our first dressage show as we walked by I heard voices behind me saying, “Geez, it’s an Appaloosa.” Easy and I didn’t take home dressage ribbons in those early years but I’m happy to say he lived long enough to see attitudes against “colored” horses change and his dressage ribbon collection got fairly big.

Annie’s Story:

My friend Jeep – and yes, that’s her real name – once had this idea. As executive director of the chamber of commerce she knew everyone. And in a region with a large horse population that meant she knew just about everybody involved with horses. Many of those people frequently offered her horses – mostly young Thoroughbreds – for free. So her brilliant plan was she’d take some of these horses and then I’d retrain them and then we could sell them and make some money. Since I was only in my 20s, I was young enough and stupid enough to believe this could work.

Annie was our first, and last, horse in our business venture. She was a relatively unbroken three-year-old that had essentially spent her life living in a pen with no turn out and no friends, meaning no social skills. Of course, that also meant I felt sorry for her and agreed to take her. First off, Easy hated her. I quickly learned to ignore her when I came to the ranch until I had finished working with Easy. But it was through Annie that I discovered the soft spot in Easy’s heart. In time he took on the job of being her anchor and her protector.

That Annie had a screw lose somewhere became evident rather quickly. And it was unfortunate because her physical talent was amazing but the brain was not there. Annie saw monsters no one else could see and was quick to go into what I came to view as her panic bubble where there was no getting through to her .There was nothing to do but ride it out until she came back to her senses. The partnership on Annie did not last long. In the first year, during my birthday party at the ranch, Jeep’s birthday “gift” to me was her half of Annie. Normally when one hands you a birthday gift you say, “Wow, thank you.” When Jeep handed me the papers on Annie and told me she signed over her half for my birthday, I remember looking at her and saying, “Are you kidding me?” It had become clear to both Jeep and I that there was no way we could ever sell that horse to anyone with a clear conscience. Easy and I were now stuck with Annie for the rest of our lives.

It was her lack of social skills that first made Easy take pity on Annie. She had never been with other horses. The first day I introduced her to other horses in the field, she froze in fear when they approached her and began to shake. Easy stepped in and moved the crowd away and from that moment on he took care of her. No one messed with Easy. It made Annie cocky. At one point she started this habit of running up to other horses in the field, spinning around and double barreling them in the face and then took off daring them to chase her. One day I saw her do this and three mares ganged up on her. She ran to Easy, put him between her and the mares and rested her head on Easy’s back staring at them. Easy was eating hay, but lifted his head, tossed a threat to the three mares and they hit the brakes and walked away. Annie’s one mistake was one day running up to Easy and trying to kick him in the face. He spun and trapped her against the rail and then I witnessed him lift a back leg and tap her on the knee and then look back at her with a look that said, “I could have broken your knee but chose not to.” She never crowded him at the gate again — ever. Even during their last days together in the field, Easy would put his ears back at Annie and she would move away from the gate and let him go out first.

Worst part was Annie started this face-kicking game on the trail. Needless to say, no one wanted to ride behind us as she’d be walking along and then hit the brakes and double barrel the horse behind her. I read in a book that the solution to this was to carry a whip and get a friend to ride behind, and when your horse stopped to kick you wallop her with the whip. The book also said the reaction from the horse was likely to be such that if you weren’t a good rider you might want to have a better rider do this with your horse. Well, I made Jeep ride behind us, after all she was the one who stuck me with this crazy mare, and when Annie went to kick Flash I nailed her. Yep, she went flying across the desert bucking but it broke the habit.

Early in our partnership I had one crazy moment when I thought of turning Annie into my next event horse. But I gave up on that rather soon realizing that while I was brave and slightly crazy I wasn’t stupid. I had always said that Easy would take care of Easy. No matter what happened Easy would get himself out of a mess. If you happened to stay on him, he’d save you too. But Annie, no. Panic was her forte. If a monster was on the right she’d flee to the left even if that meant going over a cliff. Easy would take out the monster and throw it over the cliff but he always had what the military calls “situational awareness.” He knew what was around him and if a cliff was there he sure as hell wasn’t going over the cliff.

Annie, however, did have amazing talent. She’s the only horse on which I’ve ever cantered backward. But nothing ever came on command. She cantered backward because she wanted to canter home and I said no and turned her away from home. So, she just cantered home anyway – backward. I once took a friend trail riding and let him ride Easy. We came to a large ravine. He and Easy went down the ravine and up the other side. Annie just launched from one side and landed on the other. Dean said all he saw were hooves passing by his head. Here I must also tell the story of the Great Dane that came running after us on another trail ride. He was a pony-sized dog with a mean attitude.  Annie panicked and shot off, but I panicked a bit too and as she raced away I told her, “run, Annie run.” And then it hit me that the horse back there left behind was also mine – Easy with Dean aboard. So I pulled up Annie and turned back down the trail to find Dean and Easy sauntering down the trail. I asked what happened and Dean replied, “Damndest thing. Easy turned on the dog and charged it and the dog ran home and Easy just walked on down the trail.” Yea, that was my guy.

I once worked with a jump instructor who tried to help me solve Annie’s problem of rushing jumps. She put a pole 8 feet out from the jump telling me it would back her off. Right, like I hadn’t already tried that. Annie thought the pole meant that’s where you take off so we cleared an 8-foot spread and the jump afterward. When this particular instructor finished picking her jaw off the ground she said, “Well, maybe it needs to be a little further out. Let’s try 9 feet.” Uh, huh, so to Annie that meant then that we do a 9-foot spread and the jump afterward. There was nothing you could put in front of Annie that she would not jump. I once stood up a barrel – a mere 2-foot wide jump – and she took it. But I could never get her through a whole course. After a few jumps she was out of control.

My friend Bettina Drummond credits Annie with our friendship. It’s true. I had been struggling for years with the fact that Annie knew only three gaits – walk, trot and gallop. She didn’t lift into canter, she launched into a gallop. I mentioned this to Bettina while interviewing her for an article. She offered to come by and take a look at the mare. In one lesson Bettina fixed the problem using a half-pass positioning. I thought, “Geez, several years and multiple trainers couldn’t figure this problem,  this woman is good.” Of course, if you talk to Bettina she’ll be happy to tell you about the scar she has from one of Annie’s “bubble panic” moments. Easy and I apologize for her.

Easy and I both knew that Annie was crazy, but hell, there wasn’t a mean bone in her body. You just have to look after that kind of a soul. That’s also why they had to move on to the next existence together. Easy can look after her better than I. And besides, he’s leaving behind Magique who came to us as a yearling so Easy had well over 10 years to mold her. Easy liked Magique from the get go. She was smart, cocky and independent – all the things both he and I admired. I remember watching her the first day I put her in the field with Easy and Annie. Magique insisted on eating from Easy’s pile of hay. No matter what he did to chase her away, she wouldn’t go. She would even pull hay out of his mouth. It was Easy’s nature to admire a brazen character like that.

It’s as I said before. If you build the right relationship with your horses, then you are never alone and you are never lonely. My fear has always been that I will not be able to be there to take all my horses to their end of this stage of existence. At least with Easy and Annie, I’m able to do that. I promised Easy three things – that he would never know unkindness, that he would not be alone at the end and that he would never be afraid.  I spent nearly a quarter century making sure no one could mistreat him. I gave up opportunities in life that would have prevented me from being there with him always, and I made the decision to move him on before he hit a point in his arthritic body that he would go down and not be able to get up and care for himself – in other words, before he would reach a panic stage. Of Annie, both Easy and I made sure she never left us and went off to someone whose fear of her panicked states would cause them to mistreat her. In the end, we made sure that she did not cross over alone and our hope is that by not being alone she will not be afraid.

Left behind are Magique and I. But together we’ll overcome the loss. That’s the lesson Easy has taught me – real friendship comes in many forms and the equine form is as valuable as the human.

So what is the message in Easy and Annie’s stories? It’s the final lesson they leave me with. It’s not the competitions, the ribbons or related such things that have really mattered. Reflecting back on our time together what stands out is the relationship we’ve had together and the memories I’ve gained. My parents always told their friends that my horses kept me out of trouble in my childhood and teens. The truth is they’ve kept me on track through most of my life because they’ve given me a life. I don’t really know what it’s like to be bored in life, or to be lonely, or to feel lost. My horses ensured that I’ve never had time to be bored and never felt alone. They have given me mental stability in my life and out of that stability has come the ability to achieve all the other things I have achieved in my life. Easy is particularly special because I recognized in him a soul that had self-confidence and strength. I never looked at him as something I had to care for but as a soul on which I could lean because he had strength to share.

There are horses that need to be cared for and then there are horses that care for us.  What I will most miss with his passing is the loss of a friend who was capable of taking care of me. I’ve become a much stronger person over the course of the 20-some years we’ve been together because he helped me weather the rough times of my life. The death of my father brought him into my life. And it was then Easy who got me through the loss of my stepfather. When I got the call that my stepfather had a heart attack and was in the hospital I booked a flight back to California. Before leaving for the airport I took Easy out and went galloping across the field. During my stepdad’s funeral service, every time I was about to break down and cry, I thought of the gallop I had on Easy the day before my flight. And I said to myself, “I’ve lost my dad but I still have Easy.”

Well, tonight as I write this, I’m drinking a toast to Easy and Annie and thanking them for carrying me through all the tragedies I’ve faced in life the past two decades. And I give a toast also to my other equine friends who wonder why I’ve been so sad these past days and who I hope will carry me through the future burdens of life that are sure to come.

So, here’s to Magique whose attitude I know will be, “Yea, I’m sad too but get over it and let’s move on.” To Scooter who has been amazingly affectionate the past days and seems to be saying, “I’ll be your friend. I’ll take care of you.” To Je Suis, who doesn’t quite seem to understand the energy around the barn these last days but is asking, “Are you okay, can I help?” To Kiko, who, seriously, as he looked out his stall across the field to the grave waiting for tomorrow’s burial, made me laugh with his panicked look that seemed to say, “Geez, thank God that grave out there isn’t for me.”

Easy and I walked part-way down into his grave tonight and looked at it and I told him, “You know, I wouldn’t  be afraid to go into there and die with you because I wouldn’t feel alone.”  In that moment I realized that every dream I’ve had to sacrifice, everything I have had to give up in life because of the horses has been worth it because I have never had to be alone. I think our greatest fear in life is being alone. Perhaps it’s true that we must die alone but Easy and Annie have taught me that we don’t have to live alone. To Easy and Annie – Thanks for the memories.