What do you say about your childhood horse – the one who has taught you everything you know? Who has loved you unconditionally, in spite of your immaturity and reckless learning style back then?
Childhood horses can come at unexpected times. While Santo and I met each other at technically non-childhood ages, we both immediately recognized the perpetual kid in each other.
I bought Santo for one dollar. He had an injury that had a mixed prognosis. Luckily for me, Santo healed well – and we enthusiastically launched our riding partnership soon after.
The early days were full of excitement (the good, the bad and the ugly). Each of us had little knowledge – but together we built a series of clues (one small step at time). Back then, we went to clinics and whirled around in unison. Just not the type that the clinicians had in mind.
Santo developed a fan club, who followed his progress at clinics. He hated the cow working ones (cows are smelly and kind of “eww”). But his spooks were always elegant – and quite considerate.
Santo’s cow dodging moves were lovely (due to his marvelous suspension). But he always took care to keep his back under my seat, no matter how extravagant his leaps.
In those days, miniature horses and donkeys were as unacceptable as cows to Santo. Even life-sized photos of them provoked snorting and intense side-eye glances (as our vet clinic discovered one day). I rode my first (and probably last) capriole, when a mini paint monster (named DeeDee) snuck up on Santo unexpectedly.
We both landed softly (Santo’s back glued to my seat) and segued into gorgeous short serpentines until we were far away from the demonic DeeDee.
Like many childhood horses, Santo has grown along with me. While the first capriole was a surprise gift, Santo gave me many more “firsts.” My first canter pirouette, done in a group of western riders at a cowboy clinic (Santo nailed it in the wade tree saddle).
Santo was the first horse to show me the softness in flying lead changes. Neither one of us had much understanding of that on our own. But somehow our immaturity blended “just right” – and we learned how to set those up for each other, stress-free and smooth.
All childhood horses eventually get older – and that is the era where Santo has shined the most. One day, while experimenting with flying lead changes, Santo had a great idea. He proudly presented me with tempis (another “first”). His tone was, “hey, why not just switch with fewer (or no) steps?” He was 20 at the time – and acted half his age. Those tempis were smooth!
An old suspensory injury slowed down his riding the following year. But this is when Santo flowered as an equine teacher. Santo has taught horsemanship to teen interns, K-12 field trip students, vet school students, young DVMs fresh out of vet school, adult students and youth STEM teachers. I’ve never counted all the people – but it is easily in the hundreds now.
I always hoped that one day Santo would become a schoolmaster, a wise Gandalf who showed the way to earnest young students. Santo has never quite developed the gravitas for that. His “forever young” exuberance (and love of mudballs in his mane) will always brand him as a bubbly teenager, full of zest and sweetness.
In the hands of a more seasoned (and mature) professional, Santo could have been an upper-level horse (in multiple disciplines). But he has forgiven me that – and has settled instead for being loved as unconditionally as he loved me. As well as being a beloved teacher to many, many kids and adults.
What do you say about a childhood horse (and best friend) like Santo? Thank you.
And sadly, good-bye. Santo developed a rapid onset brain disorder of some kind. We aren’t sure if it was vascular or neurological – a mass or an internal event. Santo faded quickly, only briefly resurfacing to bid me farewell on his last day. His passing was peaceful, with many tears from those who loved him (including his veterinarian).
It is a tribute to Santo’s character that his death seemed wildly premature at age 23. Even now, as I write this two months later, I find it hard to refer to him in the past tense. Santo was vivid, alive, sweet, kind and full of presence.
Rest in peace. Santo March 2002 – March 2025.
(though if I know Santo, he will be on the move even in the afterlife….)