Finding Skipper was destiny for us. When I was nine years old, my mother and I set out to find a horse to lease; we found Skip. A red roan Appaloosa pony, 14 hands, 13 years old, and ready to deal with my then still incompetent, albeit enthusiastic, riding. We leased him for almost six months before the owners had a falling out with the barn owner and he was moved. There, I thought, ended the saga of Skipper.
Over the next year, we searched for a horse to call our own. We finally found Razzmatazz, an 11 year old, 17 hand bay. When we finally moved him into his new home, we were shocked to discover that Skipper lived there as well. Well, Tazz only went so far for our level of riding at the time, and we heard that Skipper was for sale at a lower price because of his disuse for so long. So, realizing it could only be fate, we paid the price, and, at eleven, I had the horse who was to become the love of my life.
Skipper taught me everything I know about horses, riding, and love. Through both his patience and his attitude, his serenity and his spunk, his strengths and his weaknesses, I grew into a much stronger rider and person. He was there for me when I felt no one else could be. He had the wonderful ability to sense the level of his rider; for someone with little skill, he was a patient teacher; and as I grew into my riding boots, I found I hit the ground more and more often from his impertinence and joyous fits. And every time, he taught me something else, and always waited around to make sure I was fine.
He took me to shows up through pre-trainer level, tearing up those jumps like nobody's business, almost passing the previous rider on our cross-country events and finishing the course flawlessly before the announcer had finished introducing us in stadium jumping. As for dressage? Well, that was just the price we had to pay to get to the jumping. And when we soared over those jumps, it was as near to heaven as we had ever been.
Skipper and Tazz became loving brothers, complete with both constant bickering and the nearness of physical comfort and love. Together they both followed us cross country in a new way, from North Carolina all the way to Colorado. Skipper, two time pony of the year for Pony Club and renowned for his good temperament, always helped us earn his keep as he was borrowed out for his old strength, lessons for small children whom he could love and prepare for the rest of the equine world.
On the night of September 20th, Skipper began to colic. It's never something you can imagine actually happening to -your- horse, only to horses in general. At first we thought that he was bound to get better. But by the next morning, despite IV and tube fluids, he had only gone downhill.
We sat with Skipper all day and night, giving him fluids and shots for the pain, walking him around and just being with him. He had an impaction, and a possible twist on top of it. We prayed - if it's only the impaction, we could loosen it up, he could pull through!
That night we stayed with him in the bitter cold. He was in an immense amount of pain. We gave him a shot of pain medication and sedative every two hours, but its effects wore off at a continuously faster rate. He was refluxing from his nose and mouth every three or four hours. By five AM, we took his heart rate before giving him his shot, and found it to be at 100. There was no way we could ask him to do this any longer. His pain was greater than we could make him suffer for the small hope we still had.
We gave him the last of his shots over the next few hours. At eight thirty, the vet arrived. Skipper was peaceful, sedated, closing his eyes to the sun on his face and the presence of us next to him and Tazz in the next run. We said our goodbyes, and told him how much we loved him, how wonderful it was. Then I sat with him through his last moments, and he moved on to his next journey.
Skipper was a wonderful horse. At 23, he had had a wonderful life filled with love, excitement, and joy. Everyone who met him loved him, and for good reason. He broke the mold. And all we can say now is, Skipper, we will always love you. You made the world a better place just by being there. And, one day, we will find you again, for one more gallop through the sky.
Erin Fekete & Debbie Walsh
October 2011
Dear Skipper:
I don't know where you are now, but I see you everywhere. The strength and love and devotion you gave to me is always with me, and all of that helps me everyday. I think we are complete. I did all I could for you over the many years I decided to make you one of my animal mentors. I love you and always will, and I'm with you and know you are with me.
I can't get this song out of my mind. It's been there on many occasions of my life, the last before your passing being when Wishbone passed.. "Somewhere" is the song. I've been on pandora and listened to many versions. I thought Roberta Flack did it, but can't find it. Guess it was in my imagination. She would have done it well. Second prize goes to Barbara Streisand, and she did do that song, many times.
In any event, I'm giving Tazz away to a middle-schooled girl. Let's hope he's a good boy until this coming Thursday. That's when the deal will be sealed. I think he will do good. Because you taught him and he taught you. You'll always be with me, Skipper. As will Tazz. And remember,
Someday, somewhere,
we'll find a new a new of way of living,
we'll find a way of forgiving.
Somewhere.
There's a place for us,
somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air.
Wait for us, somewhere.
There's a time for us,
some day there'll be a time for us,
time together with time to spare,
time to learn and time to care.
Somewhere, somehow,
we'll find a new way of living,
a time for forgiving...
Hold my hand and we're half way there,
hold my hand and we'll take you there.
Somewhere.
Somehow, someday, somewhere.
Author Unknown
Thank you. Thank you Skipper. You and Tazz were always good listeners. Even with my corny, sentimental songs.
Love You.
Debbie
Star Skipper 
