What do you do when your best friend is gone…forever? When everything you know and have learned came from one thing. Are you strong enough to continue on? Or will you just fade away like everything else. You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have left.
From day one of my life, I was struck with horse fever. I had always dreamed of owning a horse, as I spent my days dreaming of galloping over an open field on my very own horse. At eight years old, my dream came true. I got my first pony, and at eleven years old, my first horse. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. A warm day in May, my “Partner in crime” arrived. Standing sixteen hands tall, Cooper towered over me. I stood there, stunned, as he gently nudged me. He was mine. This was one of the best days of my life. Little did I know, the days we spent together were limited.
From the start, Cooper taught me life-long lessons. He even taught me things about myself. I quickly learned how to be responsible for a life, as I had to take care of Cooper every day. The gentle giant always took care of me in, and out, of the saddle. I could not wait to get home from school each day to be greeted by a whinny from my fourth-legged friend. He could turn my bad day into a good one. Cooper took me to some of my first shows. Cooper always being a hit, as he paraded around the ring, sticking his tongue out of his mouth. I referred to him as my dog for this. It fit him well, because he was loyal, and my best friend. My confidence was boosted each and every day we walked out of the ring. Whether we won a class or not, Cooper always tried his best for me.
Day by day, the bond between Cooper and I grew. We could do stuff that I would have been terrified to do before, such as galloping out in an open field. I would grab a hold of Cooper’s mane, and we would shoot across the field, just like in my dream. Cooper followed me around everywhere I went. Out in the ring, I’d take off his lead rope, and he would chase after me, and jump over small fences right beside me. I knew by now I had something special that I’d never forget. I had found a partnership. I had found my lifeline.
Cooper touched many lives - not just mine. Over those 2½ years, I had begun to mentor younger kids on riding and barn work. Cooper would safely carry a younger child around the ring, as quiet as an old school horse. I recall one time my cousins had come for a visit, and I had brought them to the barn. One of them loved Cooper, and I smiled as she talked to Cooper as she made him walk, and carefully trot around the ring, automatically stopping if his rider began to slip. Then, my 5 year old cousin had wanted to ride. As I slowly lifted him onto Cooper’s back, he panicked as he sat down on Cooper’s back. “Get me off. I’m scared.”, he screamed. My aunt quieted him, putting her arm around him as he sat in the saddle. All along, Cooper stood like a statue in place. After my cousin had quieted down, my aunt asked him if he wanted Cooper to take just one step forward. Slowly, he nodded his head. I gently tugged at the reins, and Cooper obediently took one step forward, and stopped again. When my cousin was calm, we took another…and another, until we made it entirely around the ring twice. When it was time to get off, my cousin responded, saying; “I don’t want to get off, just one more time around, please?” I looked over at my aunt who was grinning, and I nodded, as we took one more time around the ring. Cooper, once again, had earned another child’s heart.
As months turned into years, I became an all around better person. I was advancing in riding, as my goals became more challenging. Cooper, however, was becoming older, as old age began to take its toll on my beloved boy. It hurt watching him struggle to pick up the right lead at the canter.
One day, my trainer recommended retiring him. At first, I resented it. We came so far, and I loved him more than anything. However, I realized it was best for him. I still remember that day he was taken away. I cried for days, heart broken. At least at this time, I could still go visit him.
I visited Cooper almost every weekend at his new home. Every day I came, I was still greeted by Cooper trotting up to the gate, waiting for me. Soon however, with my new horse keeping me busy along with school, my trips to see Cooper became less frequent. It did not mean I missed him less however.
It was an ordinary day in March when I went to see Cooper. Pulling into the drive, I hopped out of the car, waving bye to my mom. I glued my eyes to the over-grazed pasture where Cooper was kept. He was not waiting at the fence. I panicked, running over searching for him. When I went to the shed, I found him…at least I thought I did. Huddled in the corner, Cooper was skin and bones. His head hung low, eyes somewhere else. He was suffering. Tears began to roll down my face, as I ran over to him, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” I cried over and over again. Cooper rested his fragile head on my shoulder. I knew it was his time.
Cooper was put down the next week on a cold March day. Still in a state of shock, I stayed home from school, clutching one of his halters and lead ropes, crying until I had no more tears left. I had become numb to everything.
Looking back almost 5 months later, I still cry often about my best friend. There always will be a part of me missing. However, I have also been reflecting on what Cooper has done for me. He is making me a stronger person. He was a blessing I am thankful for, and I truly believe he is my guardian angel. Silently showing me how strong I really am. God bless you, Cooper. Rest In Peace, my boy.
Allie
Cooper 
