Dobbin’s Retirement

Dobbin would be 25 this year.  He stood 17 hands high, tall for a horse, gray muzzle, but dark head, neck, forelegs and withers with his body becoming more dappled and lighter over his rump and hind legs.  He was part Appaloosa, accounting for his color, with some Percheron mixed in giving him a thicker body and legs than a thoroughbred. He’d been gelded at 10 months, probably accounting for his gentle nature and tall height.  He’d never had any serious ailments.

Frank had bought Dobbin when the horse was 4 and Frank was 22.   Dobbin had first pulled a plow for Frank on the new piece of land Frank had just bought, before Frank could afford a tractor.  Then, as a few years of decent crops came to pass, money was available for equipment that made farming larger parcels of land faster and easier and Dobbin was relegated to pulling various farm wagons, except for Frank still using him to plow the family garden plot out of nostalgia.

Frank had bought other horses in the past, to help Dobbin plow, but Dobbin was the only one he’d kept.  He could tell that though the horse was in good shape, at 25 he couldn’t work as he had when the horse was young and Frank wondered about Dobbin’s “retirement” on a farm with no other horses to socialize with.  He and Dobbin had started out together and he wanted the old horse to be cared for and be happy, so he pondered what he thought “happy” meant to a horse.

Martin and Helen Pritchett, both in their early 60’s, had recently retired, Martin from Boeing Aircraft as an engineer and Helen from teaching at a private college.  Helen had always ridden horses for pleasure and, after minimal coaxing, had persuaded Martin to purchase 25 acres near Frank, upon which to start a riding program for disadvantaged or handicapped children.

Before the start of the program, they came to a local Grange meeting one evening to promote the riding program to the local farming community.  They had erected their barn and stables for as many as 8 horses and currently had 7 horses of various breeds and ages that were appropriate for untrained riders.

Frank had ridden Dobbin rarely and wasn’t sure how he would react to kids, their noise and sudden movements, but he approached Martin and Helen with the proposal to bring Dobbin to them for a trial.

Dobbin had been with the Pritchett’s for about 6 weeks, learning his place among the other horses and being evaluated by the Pritchett’s for use with the children, before Frank paid a visit to see for himself how the old horse was adjusting.

Frank arrived just as a group of children were grooming some of the horses and he saw Dobbin being brushed by a 12 year old girl who could barely reach his back,  the old horse dipped his head so the girl could brush his neck, then he blew into the girl’s hair and nuzzled her ear.  She laughed and hugged the old horse, continuing to brush his neck and mane.

Helen saw Frank watching Dobbin and the girl and came over to him, “ Hi, Frank” shaking his hand and smiling.  “How’s the old boy doing with the kids, Helen” Frank asked, nodding toward his old horse.

Helen laughed, “It’s as if he was born to this, Frank, he has found his place in our herd and all of the children love him.  He is so gentle with all of them and their noise and jerky movements don’t bother him, he’s very calm.  Martin and I would like to buy him from you, he makes a great edition for the program”.

Frank smiled at Helen, “ Dobbin’s not for sale, Helen!  He has been an old friend for a long time and my wish is for him to have a great retirement.  I think he has found it here and I am glad that he is happy!”  With that, he pulled a paper from his pocket and gave it to Helen, paper transferring ownership of Dobbin to Martin and Helen Pritchett.

Frank walked over to the old horse and introduced himself to the girl brushing Dobbin, “ Hi, I’m Frank, Dobbin and I are old friends and you seem to be a new one for him”.  

The girl smiled, looked up at Dobbin and patted his neck, “Yes, we are new friends, he makes me laugh and fell better about myself”, Dobbin lowered his head and blew into the girls hair again.  She squealed with laughter, “My name’s Jessica, isn’t he funny?”

Frank reached up and rubbed the old horse’s muzzle, Dobbin stretched his head forward and laid it on Frank’s shoulder for a moment, then pulled it even with Frank’s face, looked him in the eye, shook his head and softly whinnied.