This, Or Something Better

Remember March 2023 version of Julie? Everything seemed to be going my way. My writing dreams had crystallized. The Globe and Mail article had propelled me from girl blogger to real deal sports journlist. I attracted the attention of a Miami PR company, who were offering hotel and flights for the Miami Longines Global Champions Tour. All I had to do was interview a few riders and write a piece. Did you say private jet? I was so there.

©️ LGCT Miami

Simultaneously, I was navigating a horse deal. A little palomino seemed like he could be suitable for both my son, and me. We tried him a couple of times, came to a tentative deal, and arranged the pre-purchase exam. If all went well, I would be buying him, and then flying to LGCT Miami the next day. Coincidentally, the pony was a Florida-native, imported north for his flashy movement and good looks. A pony from Florida, AND a trip to Florida? My life was on fire!! Too good to be true, right?

It was. The pony didn’t pass vet, and I let him go. As much as I wanted to ignore the evidence, he wouldn’t meet our needs. This, or something better, I chanted in my mind. At least I still had Miami.

Nope. The PR company backed out, offering “virtual interviews” to me, Horse & Hound, Horse Network and others instead of the actual trip. I suspect the entire thing was a ruse from the start – the classic bait and switch. How easily I had fallen for it, so seduced by visions of myself on the private jet – and even better – the selfies for my Insta.

I was back to square one: depressed, hopeless, horseless.

We had rented a hot tub that spring. I spent a lot of time in it, staring at the bright blue Alberta sky, thinking about life, thinking about where I went wrong, where I went right, what I wanted to do, why I couldn’t do it.

I had wanted that goddamn pony. My entire personal life was starting to implode, erupting from the inside out like a black hole. I was grasping for something to make it work, to make it better, to stop the hole from enveloping us completely.

It was too much to place on one little pony’s back.

Months passed. It was a smoky morning in May when I pulled myself out of bed and made it to my riding lesson early in the morning.

There’s a horse here for you to try, my trainer smiled. Kim dropped him off on her way to work.

That was how I met the palomino Ken. He was a lot like the other one, the Florida pony, but he was better in a lot of ways – keener, flashier, and liked to work.

There were a million reasons not to like him, except that I did. I liked his Quarter Horse naughtiness, his stubborn tendency to want to go and do it his way – he reminded me of my old friend’s pony Texas. He was exceptionally smart, and learned fast. I fell in love with him a teensy bit at a time, but mostly when he didn’t abandon me in Lloyd Park after twilight. He has good character.

He’ll be perfect for my son, whenever they’re ready. In the meantime, he’s perfect for me - a mountain horse, a skijoring horse, a hunt partner, a project.

Did he pass vet? Not at all. Should I stop now? The vet asked, upon discovering a cataract in an eye. A horse with a cataract? Sounds about as odd as a child with a cataract.

It was meant to be.