Honey in the Money 2000 - 2010

In late January 2008, my husband and I made the long drive from Pasco to Poulsbo. I was excited. I was picking up my very own Thoroughbred! She was a grand-daughter of Seattle Slew, tall, long, with a huge floaty trot. I could totally see my untrained butt flopping around in an English saddle as she moved around the rail with elegance and grace. When we arrived at the farm, she was run into a training barn with 5 other mares. One was the pregnant one (Heddy Weed) that came home with her.

As my eyes fell on her, the fit, sleek, shiny TB mare of my imaginings evaporated like the smoke exhaled from the lips of a smoker. What stood before was a skinny, hairy aloof mare with rainrot, nasty hooves, and a halter that had been on her face WAY too long! I could hear Mike thinking "Are you out of your mind? You want to put THIS in the trailer?" Or maybe he said it out loud. I don't know because I was mesmerized as this pitiful creature, by far the most pitiful I'd seen in my up-until-then-limited experience, literaly floated away from where I was standing.

I watched her for several moments without even breathing. I saw, with my mind, the healthy, sleek, shiny, exquisite beauty under the mud, and fungus, and nappy mane. She floated like a cloud. To ride her would be like riding silk. I turned to Emily and said "I want that one". I could barely breathe. I didn't relax until the mares were in the trailer and I was 20 miles from the farm. I was so afraid that they'd change their mind and take her out of the trailer.

Honey in the Money had come home.

My first task was to get her back to a healthy weight and clear up the rainrot. Only then would I consider riding her. Six months later, I made my first attempt.

Honey was cinchy. She did NOT like being cinched up in any way shape or form. She let you know her displeasure without being mean about it. I got to the arena and free longed her before climbing on. I WAS RIGHT!! She was smooth as silk! For about 15 minutes. Then she started to favor her back leg.

I spent MONTHS trying to find out what had happened to her. What I learned ended her riding career and she was relegated to the pasture, a beloved, beautiful pet.
I never even thought to ride her again, knowing that to do so would only cause her pain.

Last summer, Honey was playing in the pasture and stepped too close to the wooden fence post, crack the very center of her hoof all the way through the wall, and all the way to the hairline. The vet and the farrier said if she got shoes up front and frequent trimming, it would grow out completely and she'd be pasture sound once again.

Over the last two weeks, Honey has gotten progressively more lame. To the point where she wouldn't even attempt to play in the arena. That alone told me something was very very wrong.

I spent a lot of time yesterday watching her, her demeanor, her behavior, her walking, her standing. Honey was in a LOT of pain, and it was selfish of me to pretend that she'd be fine.

I ended Honey's suffering today. Kneeling in the trailer with the vet, trying to say goodbye through my tears, it hit me again just how much this sweet cuddly snuggle-bear meant to me and just how much I am going to miss her.

I see Honey across the Rainbow Bridge, flying across the grass that is alway green and where the sun is always warm. I'm crying for me, because of the emptiness her passing has created. I know I did the right thing.

Rest in peace, my sweet Honeybear. I love you.