“But, this is the last one,”  I reasoned with both my fiancé but mostly with myself. “Kennedy is tucked safely in the barn, Sail Maker is over at Lee’s, and the rest are accounted for.  This would be the last one.”

My fiancé Luke stares at me and rolls his eyes, fully knowing that I am moreso rationalizing what I am about to do than asking for permission from him.  He of all people knows that once I set my mind to something, there is no stopping me, including his opinion.

I am staring at my cell phone, watching the short 11 second video that the owner has sent over and over.  I hit pause and zoomed in on each leg, looking for blemishes.  I wind the video forward and backward, noticing every time any of his legs bobbles or mis-steps.

I took a deep breath in, looked up at my fiancé, shrug, and smile nervously.  He shakes his head at me but doesn’t try to stop me.  “You’re a sucker, you know.”

“Yes.  But this is the last one,” I mumble as I hit send on Facebook messenger, offering the hard earned money I had saved to secure him back.

bode 8

Five years ago, I would have never been able to do this.  Five years ago, I went to the Subway near my school and watched my credit card get declined for my $6 turkey sub.  Five years ago, my mother listened as I told her that I simply couldn’t afford my horse and was to put him up for sale.  And five years ago, she offered to cover my board for six months while I got myself back on my feet.

But five years ago, I made the mistake of doing it again.  Five years ago, broke and in graduate school, I let myself  fall.  Because five years ago, for the millionth time in my life, I fell in love with a bay thoroughbred. He came in with a tumble, but he came in strong.  And just like that, I lost my heart to Bode.

bode 2

People have asked me what it was about this one that made him different.  What made him special?  Unique from the other 500 that either I or my fiancé has brought into this world. And I have to pause before answering.

Was he the most well put together? No.

Was he the biggest mover?  Probably not.

Was he the most well bred? Definitely not.

But what he lacked in pedigree and paper, he made up for with personality.  He made up for with spunk.  He was just, quite simply, different.

He was born on a cold February night, and stuck in his mothers birth canal for over 2 hours.  I was the first to see his nose, clinging to the aluminum walls of trailer that I rode with his mother, attempting to hold her 1400lbs up with my measly 140.  I watched as they pulled him out of her and carried him away at the clinic, sure he was dead after being oxygen deprived for so long.  I stared with a slack jaw as the technician came back into the room to say that he was too wild to place a catheter in. And I giggled as I watched him stand within 15 minutes of being born.

I knew at that moment that I could let out the breath that I had been holding, and replaced it with the love of a foal that became known as Bode.

Bode was a monster of a foal, and with his immense size of frame came an immense personality.  He was born at 165lbs, and towered over the rest of the herd.

bode 7


And like many clinic babies, his first friends were humans, and his love of a scratch on his back or a rub on his star quickly became known.

bode 1

But as he grew for the next few months, the excitement of his arrival quieted and things on the farm returned to the status quo.  I was working on my doctorate in equine reproduction while my significant other managed the farm that bred Bode.  It was a small operation, and because of this, I got to be actively involved in the daily routine whenever I had a spare moment.

And Bode thrived in the extra attention, quickly becoming a ham. It was to be known that he was the prince.  The one that made the grooms and interns roll their eyes, while Luke chuckled at his antics.

bode 6

Photo by Susan Black

And I would go to Bode’s stall and give him just a little bit of extra love; some extra attention.  A good curry or a good snuggle.  In July, I even offered to clip off his baby fuzz, but with the manfriend busy mowing and his groom mucking stalls, it was just me, Bode, the clippers, and a lead rope.  And the massive foal stood there ground tied, unsedated, as I ran the ridiculously loud clippers over his body.  Luke was befuddled.  Mario was amused.

And it was done.  I was hooked.

bode 9

But as is life, things changed.

Luke accepted a job on a larger farm as their broodmare manager, and we moved across town. I no longer had unlimited access to this now short yearling that I had become too attached to.  Occasionally we would drive back to that cozy little farm and swing by to say hello to the staff, and on those days, I would swing an arm around Bode and nuzzle my face into his neck.

But I knew that the time was coming for when I would lose even that limited access to this lovable colt, and that it was coming quickly. Bode was entered in the Keeneland September sale, and secured a good spot in book 2.  And I drove out there the day he shipped in to put an eye on what had become of this affectionate foal, and was pleasantly surprised.  He was a stunning colt – still big, and now quite strong. His legs were clean and straight, his topline glistening in the sun.  I knew he would sell well, and sell well he did, coming out of the ring for $150,000.

bode 11

Bode at the Keeneland September sale.

But then I lost my control. I lost my input.  I lost my horse.

I knew that with the fall of the gavel, it was like rolling the dice as to where he would go. Who had bought him, and how open they would be with me staying in contact with the foal that I had fallen too hard for.  I knew that with him selling for six figures that he was likely to go to a good home, and also that they would most likely give him a solid go in training.

For years, I waited in the wings.  I contacted first his original buyer, and then the trainer. I mentioned my affiliation with the foal every time I bumped into the bloodstock agent who had bought him at the sales.

And I told each – if and when he is ready for retirement, I will take him, no questions asked.

Because he sold again, and again.  Once through auction, and once privately. I reached out to each and offered my same sound bite of a comment, and yet my messages fell on deaf ears. I never heard back from what I had perceived as the last owner, and just hung my head, believing there was nothing else I could do.

And then he stopped racing.

And then he stopped working.

And then I lost him.

I have written numerous times about how hard it is to track horses that you don’t own.  To the outside, this industry looks like a million people who don’t care.  And yet to the  inside, we all know not only how much we do care, but also how hard that love of the horse can be on an empathetic soul.

There are no GPS trackers on the horses that we love.  There is no online search tool to let you know if they are well.  And sometimes, even if you find the horse, there is nothing you can do to force anyone to do as you believe is best for it.

So a few months ago, during a conversation lamenting all of this to a friend, she asked about Bode.  My inner circle knew how much he meant to me, and that he was the last on the list to be found.  I try not to get too attached to too many, but when one gets into my heart, I will go to the ends of the earth to secure him a peaceful landing.

And I told her that I knew nothing.  He hadn’t raced in almost a year, and there were no current works.  His last listed owner had never responded to my message, and although the trainer had added me on Facebook, my message to him had also gone unread.

He was gone.  There were no other options.

But Meghan didn’t take my defeat quietly.  A true professional at internet digging, when I admitted failure, she took the torch from me and began her own investigation.  An hour later, she told me she had found another connection.  Minutes later, she had found his owner on Facebook.  And with that one tiny thread of information, I felt the slightest reawakening of hope.  But knowing how few responses I had received, I tried not to get excited.

So I sent the same cliche message, and I waited.

I watched the picture pop up that showed it had been read, and I sat on my hands.

And then I saw the bubble appear saying that a response was coming, and I grabbed Luke’s arm.

And then it happened.  He not only responded, but he said that he thought that the horse was ready to retire.  And more importantly, he was going to put him up for sale.

Which led me to this place.

Could I justify not only buying a horse, but also spending the thousands of dollars to ship him across the country?  Could I justify spending money on a horse that I wasn’t putting my own two eyes on, and not even knowing any level of soundness or health?  Could I justify dropping almost all of my savings account on a horse that I was buying with my heart instead of my brain?

This past year I sold four beautiful thoroughbreds, and quite luckily, I sold them easily.  I hadn’t spent much of the money that I had profited, and was sitting on my first savings account in many years, if not for the first time in my life.  These thoroughbreds had been exceptional in all ways.  True athletes, sound in mind and body, and easy to be around.  And with that, they had gone to amazing homes for good prices.


Reagan.  Photo by JJ Sillman


Meatball.  Photo by Taylor Pence

theory 2

Sig. Photo by JJ Sillman


Theory. Photo by JJ Sillman

So here I was.  Sitting on a nest egg.  Something I could have invested into my stocks, or set up into a true savings.  I could have utilized it for a more extravagant wedding, or even to benefit the three horses I already owned.

But then what was the point of it all?

These thoroughbreds had saved my life in more ways then one.  They had picked me up in the severe depression after losing my father.  They had gotten me through the loss of my uncle.  They had held me up as I lost relationships, and they had caught my tears countless times as pain dissipated from my body.

And they asked for so little in return.

To be fed.  To have hands ran down their legs and hooves picked.  A break in the wind on the blistery days, and a break in the sun on the hot.

And also, simply to be loved.

It was time to pay it forward.

I already loved Bode.  That in itself was true.  And I was finally, at the age of 32, in a position where I could provide for the rest.

So I messaged the owner back, offered him the money I could afford, and signed on the dotted line.  I purchased a horse I hadn’t laid eyes on in four years, and made the decision with my heart instead of my head.

This morning Bode stepped off the trailer, back into the state in which he first drew breath. He looked up at the same two faces that were the first he ever saw.  And as if no time had passed, he gently butted my hand, looking for a treat or two.


I do not know what will lie in store for this colt who stole my heart. If he is sound, then I hope to do what I do best – to retrain him into a second career and then find him a forever home that will love him just as much as I do.  If he is pasture sound, then we will find him a herd of his own babies to watch over and supervise.  And if there ever comes a time when he is neither, than the decision will be made by me, and that is all that I can ever ask for.

But as of now, he is with me and Luke.  He is back in the safety of our arms, our eyes, and our care.  For four years now we have been forced into the shadows and been merely bystanders.  We watched from afar, through television sets, databases, and cell phones, knowing our opinion mattered the least.

bode 13

And today that changes.  Today he is ours and we are his.  We can’t control the past, but we can control the future.  And that is all that truly matters.





27 Comments on “Controlling the Future

  1. Awww, Congrats!!
    He still has that beautiful baby face, perky ears & stunning eyes!

  2. beautifully written, he is a lucky boy to have found you, fingers crossed we’ll see lots more of him, riding, and eventually eventing!

  3. So so happy 4 u. Hope he can be ridden etc but at least I know he will be safe. I had an Arabian for 20 years. He was my best friend. When my parents bought him for me the owner asked that I never sell him. I promised. I never did. He died with me at 30. Hewasabit small but perfect. I’ll never forget him and still miss him the last couple years I’ve given a home to older rescue horses. Wish I could do more but thanks for what you do and so glad you have him. He looks wonderful. They never forget

  4. Beautiful story, it is like a good book that you can’t put down, you don’t want it to end!

  5. There’s a special bond between a horse and a human that can’t be broken regardless of time and distance. Wishing you a lifetime of love and luck with your special Bode.

  6. Love this- please keep us posted on your journey with Bode. I understand that connection. And I understand how difficult it is to keep track of the horses that move away.
    Cheers and happy trails!

  7. The best news. He’s come home and you are now complete. Happy happy

  8. I love this story SO much! I also have a 5yo that sold at Keeneland the same year as Bode for $150k! Mine is by Ghostzapper and I had the good fortune to buy him in January of his 3yo year. I can’t wait to follow Bode’s progress and I’m so so so so happy for you that you were able to find him AND to now own him!

  9. Pingback: Locating A Lost Love: What The Future Holds For One Retired Racehorse | Sports Simulation Intelligence

  10. Pingback: Locating A Lost Love: What The Future Holds For One Retired Racehorse – Horse Racing News | The GG

    • Beautiful story, beautifully written. I wish nothing but the best for you and Bode.

  11. Simply an awesome story! I am not involved in the Thoroughbred industry but can’t get enough of these magnificent creatures. I often find many that I follow along their racing careers and then wonder what has become of them when they stop racing….always wanting to buy them and give them a forever retirement home. So wish we could develop a way to track them to keep them safe and provide loving homes for them when they stop racing. That is the least we can do for them after all they do for us. The best to you and Bode. So glad you have been reunited in this life!

  12. You’re good people. The kind of person that gives hope for the rest of us. I am so happy you found him. His and your story is remarkable. It made me feel so wonderful and I cried a little, too. I’ll be looking forward to watching the two of you grow together. All the best.

  13. What a wonderful way to start the New Year. Much happiness

  14. You have done the right thing. Sometimes simply following that innate desire to take a leap of faith and follow your heart, takes precedence over listening to your brain. When you fall that hard for a horse, it’s not really an option to not buy him back if you can. Good luck with him!

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