I Made a Promise and Ended up With a Horse

Now, all this sweet senior wants is to be part of the herd

T after two weeks with us.

He’s different. From his awkward, fast-paced walk to the way he kicks his left back leg while he eats.

“How long do horses live?” My husband, Eric, asked.

“Siri says thirty years.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-two.”

He arrived after midnight on a cold winter night just before thunder shook the house. The kind man who delivered him helped Eric walk him the quarter mile from the road to the barn. Even at thirty-two, T’s quick strides had the two men huffing. It didn’t help that the neighbor’s dogs, usually a welcome sight, were following behind, barking incessantly, amping up the cortisol levels in T.

Eric never imagined this life for himself, yet he was willing to spend his Friday night waiting in the dark for an old horse to arrive. We’d agreed on four horses. T was number five.

She named him Token, meaning gift. At seventy-four, T’s mom worked the night shift stocking shelves at a home improvement store so she could take care of her boy. They’d been together for twenty years. T was her everything.

T’s mom and I met one sweltering summer afternoon at a barn in Florida where I…