By: Diana Janning

Every horse person will someday run across their horse soul-mate . . . that one special horse that will forever be engraved in their soul. Mine was a big, red, American Saddlebred gelding, named Big Country. He was quickly dubbed with the barn name “Red”. Not ultimately unique, but it just seemed to fit. He had no flashy markings and he was nothing spectacular to look at in the stall, but he was a gentle giant who carried himself proudly. He was the horse I just had to have. The one I begged my mother to buy. To this day, I can remember several prettier horses in the barn, but for whatever reason, I knew that Red and I were meant to be. Apparently, my mother agreed, and we soon became a successful team in the show ring, earning many blue ribbons.

At times, he was the teacher, and I the student. He only dumped me once, and in hindsight it was well deserved. I was goofing off and he must have had enough, because he made a quick stop, which was highly uncharacteristic of him. Of course, I flew off. He sniffed me, snorted, and stood there staring at me, while methodically chewing on his bit. I swear if he’d had eyebrows, one of them would have been cocked.

He also became my most treasured friend. Without ever having a conversation, we knew each other well. He took special care of me and I, in return, spoiled him. We played those little games that all horse lovers have with their special mount. I’d put my hand in his mouth, and he’d try to get my ring off.
Not once did he ever bite. We knew each other’s every move, and we both had an undying trust in the other. I knew I was so lucky to be a part of his life, and always said that Red would be mine until the day he died. Then one day, my tender young world stopped. I bounced out to the barn excited to ride and found that Red was sick. Not the typical colic, but a mysterious kind of sick. He had blisters all up and down his legs and could barely move. This strange “rash” eventually covered his entire body, except for his head. The vets finally concluded that he’d had an adverse reaction to a medication that killed part of his immune system and left him with a disease known as Penphagus.

In other words, he was allergic to his own skin. For five months we went on the worst kind of roller coaster ride. One week, we were sure he wouldn’t make it, but the next week he’d show vast improvement and hope would be reborn. The vets were trying every thing they could to boost his immune system. We even got so desperate that we covered him in face cream to relieve his pain. Most evenings, I would sit on his hay bin while he rested his head in my lap. I sat for hours with him and just stroked his face. I think he knew I needed that time with him, as much as he needed it with me. Never once did he give up his courageous fight. He had a spirit like none I have ever seen.

In the end, his body gave in and he was suffering from kidney failure. We decided we had to do the kindest thing and have him put down. When I said good-bye to my beloved friend, he gave me one last nibble on the check, something he hadn’t done in weeks. I think it was his way of showing his gratitude for finally letting him go.

The following show season, a challenge trophy was donated in his memory. It must be won three times by the same rider before it is retired. I believe it is still in competition today.

Twenty years have past since I bid my friend farewell. His picture still hangs on the wall next to his bridle, and if I let myself, I can still feel his thick mane in my hands. I have missed him deeply, but he still remains a part of my life. My kids have grown up with stories of this special horse and love him, as if they had grown up with him themselves. He was my horse soul-mate, and will forever remain a part of my being. I am convinced that when I get to heaven, Red will be waiting for me so that he and I can ride together, just one more time.

My name is Diana Janning. I have been involved with horses for 30 years and showed American Saddlebreds for 18 of those years. My husband, Don and I have seven children between us. Four of them reside with us in Colorado.