Life works its little mysteries and ironies in both subtle and obvious ways.  When I am expecting miracles, they seem to appear, yes almost always they have a quirk to them that illuminates their magic.  Take Beauty, for example.  Before I get ahead of myself, let me back up a bit and set the stage for this special miracle mare.

A year ago, we lost a lovely, sweet Tennessee Walking Horse mare, Fancy, to sudden and extreme colic.  It was the worst horse-related nightmare we ever had, and made all the more gruesome because we couldn’t even bid her goodbye.  I received the phone call that she was ‘off’ her feed and acting oddly just as we were leaving Clinton Anderson’s Las Vegas Tourcation on a real high and so excited and motivated to work with our wonderful little herd at home.  Another call came in shortly thereafter, Fancy was down, rolling, and in obvious agony.  The vet was called and miraculously arrived a scant 20 minutes later.  There was nothing to be done, really, except try to quell the pain.  Another consultation, and the only right decision made—euthanasia immediately.  Fancy was out of her pain and our lives before we reached Baker.  A kinder, sweeter and more generous mare would be hard to find.  Only eight years young, Fancy’s gleaming black coat and lovely way of going filled the eye and heart.  Her wonderful disposition and personality were a testimony to her breed and breeding.  She left such a hole in our lives.  We were all depressed.  All three of us cried the whole way home.  That should have been cathartic, but in the ensuing weeks and months I couldn’t shake the depression. I began to wonder if I would ever find the enthusiasm and zest for our remaining three mustangs that had been my anchor for the past twenty years.  I went through the motions, but it all seemed so gray, somehow.

Poor Lawrence was doubly hurting, maybe triply, because not only had we lost Fancy, but we were losing the battle with his own precious mare, Desi, and her intractable bowed tendon.  Four years, almost, and we had applied every rehabilitation strategy we and the veterinarians could devise with no real progress.  Her other legs were being affected and she was losing her suspensories.  I kept up the therapies, but to no avail, and Desi’s discomfort grew along with my (and Lawrence’s) malaise.  Lawrence did his best to cheer me on and comfort his mare and mask his own hurt.  He is a wonder, and I treasure his love and friendship and steadfast courage.  Finally, on our anniversary this past June 8^th, Desi was put out of her pain when the vet determined there was no hope for recovery.

We didn’t talk much on the drive out to Laughlin for our anniversary mini-getaway.  Each of us was immersed in our own thoughts and feelings and too self-absorbed to engage the other partner.  I prayed.  I know Lawrence did, too.  We were able to reconnect over the abbreviated holiday and felt better knowing that for the most of her 26 years, Desi had led a happy and meaningful life.  Born a medicine-hat pinto, she had lost her coloring by the time she was a yearling.  A true white horse, pink skinned and blue-eyed, she attracted attention and admiration everywhere Lawrence rode her.  Desi could, and did, it all—English, Western, Trail—it didn’t matter, she just made us proud.

My wonderful bay mare, Sandi, is 25 this year.  She is a full sister to Desi, but very different in looks and temperament.  She too has ‘been there and done that’ and been my wonderfulness for 20 years.  Now, her back is drooping and she is pretty much retired.  With Desi and Fancy gone, that left Dude, Sandi’s son, a 12-year-old buckskin gelding, as the ride for two people.  He is only about 14.2 hands and nicely built, but not for two adults in tandem!

Financially, we are in no position to buy another horse for ourselves, let alone a draft cross for our friend Gil.  Fancy was to be his mount, but he never even got the chance to trail ride before she was gone.  I prayed, “Lord, if you want us to have a horse for Lawrence, you will have to bring it to us for free.  Same for one for Gil.  And we are going to need an income boost to pay for feed and care, too.”

Now, back to the miracle part.  We were readying for our Hawaii trip on Saturday, the 6^th of August, leaving EARLY on Monday the 8^th, and our caretaker Cesca texted me about finding a home for our loner hen.  We were in the car going to breakfast at Crazy Otto’s in Acton, I think.  She also mentioned she knew of a paint mare that was being given away ‘to a good home’ because of financial strains on her owner.  I felt a shock as I read the text.  I couldn’t even get my fingers to work or eyes to focus to reply.  Fortunately, Gil was in the car and able to do it for me.  (Lawrence was driving.)  After some more back-and-forth info and an exchange of telephone numbers, I was able to speak with the mare’s owner.  There were health issues, both for the owner and the mare.  Could we see her?  Yes, but we had to hurry (it was now Sunday evening) because the sun was quickly setting and there were no lights where she was being boarded.  Away we went, and did manage to find the place, and were able to see her in the fading light.  Lawrence put on her halter and lead and walked her around a bit.  She seemed to want to be with him, somehow, and it was clear he felt the same attraction to Beauty.  She was dull of eye and coat, and much too ribby, yet there was a spark and a sweetness.

We drove home and called Beauty’s owner.  Yes, we wanted her.  Could we have our caretaker pick her up and bring her home Monday or Tuesday?  (Keep in mind, we would be in Hawaii while all this was happening.)  Arrangements were made, money for feed and ulcer medicine was left for the caretaker, and we finished up packing and flew to the Big Island for our 25^th anniversary year vacation and to visit our daughter, Heather.

Beauty came home on Tuesday, August 9^th, and so far is doing very well.  She is putting on weight and has perked right up.  Our caretaker says Beauty took her ulcer med before loading, loaded and trailered like a dream—no shifting or whinnying or pawing, and unloaded and walked onto our place and into her new home stall like she owned the place.  No snorting, calling, tail flinging or wringing or other such antics.  She was a model citizen and did wonderfully while we were away and she was under Cesca’s watchful eye and great care.  We haven’t tried to ride her or work her yet, just some hand walking so far.  She moves out well, is sound, and is very quiet and sweet.  Lawrence is quite happy with his new partner, and Beauty seems attached to him already.  She even seems to have learned on her own about the Nelson waterer in her stall.

Now here is the other part of the miracle, the one that makes me shiver when I think about it.  Fancy was solid black, no white anywhere.  Desi was solid white, with just some background color on the inside tips of her ears.  Beauty is a black and white paint.  At the very least, it is ironic.  At most, well, you decide.  I know what I think.  And I have always believed in, and counted on, miracles.