12/03/2025
🌾 We don’t often talk about the hard parts.
We share the pretty pictures, the shining harness, the princess rides, the weddings, the smiles.
But there’s another side to this work — the part that changes us, shapes us, and breaks us in ways the internet never sees.
Today, we want to talk about Kenny.
Most people know him as the steady rockstar of our team — the wedding horse, the birthday horse, the daddy-daughter dance horse, the “put any driver on him and he’ll take care of them” horse.
People see the polished, gentle giant he is now.
But he wasn’t always that way.
Two years ago, Kenny arrived on our farm alongside a full Percheron gelding named Cash, who he was semi-bonded with.
And they came in appalling condition.
Kenny was the better off of the two — and even then, he had:
• noticeable muscle loss
• was underweight
• his face was beaten bloody
• marks on his legs from falling in the hauler’s trailer
Cash… sweet, gentle Cash… was worse.
Skin and bone.
One eye damaged.
Infected wounds across his legs and back.
Severely lame.
We quarantined them and tried to make friends — but neither trusted us.
And how could they?
Once quarantine ended, we moved them into the big pasture for space and peace.
Kenny became skittish, terrified to be caught, unwilling to be touched.
Cash didn’t want to be caught either — but he was too weak to run.
We had the vet scheduled to see him.
But one morning, Cash laid down and… couldn’t get back up.
We spent hours trying.
Begging.
Lifting.
Supporting.
Pleading.
But Cash was telling us he was done. His body was failing him.
Our vet came out and helped him cross peacefully, in the pasture he finally knew safety in — with Kenny standing over him, and with us sitting beside his head, letting him rest in our laps.
We told him we loved him.
We told him we were sorry we couldn’t fix everything.
We told him he mattered.
And Cash took his final breath knowing he was no longer just a number.
He was Cash— a soul with heart. A gentle giant who was loved at the end.
Kenny stood over him until the next morning, guarding him, and then watching from the gate as Cash was taken to be buried.
And after that…
Kenny didn’t magically heal.
It took months of small steps.
Sitting in the pasture.
Talking softly.
Letting him approach.
Letting him decide.
Slow trust.
Slower touch.
Until finally, one day… he let us put a halter on.
And he didn’t run.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t look at us like we were something to fear.
We waited longer still — just feeding, grooming, doctoring — until the day we tested him to see what he knew.
And that was the day we realized who he truly was.
He was patient.
Willing.
Kind.
Soft.
Smart.
Everything we asked, he understood.
We knew we had something special.
We started small — his first “real” job was a quiet ride, calm and easy.
He aced it.
One job became two.
Two became three.
And the quiet, frightened gelding who once hid from touch… grew into the horse who now carries brides, grandpas, toddlers, and nervous new drivers with steady confidence.
We learned so much more about him:
• He doesn’t care for strange adults in his face
• But he adores children and drops his head low for them every time
• He’s patient with beginners
• Loud noises aren’t his favorite, but he trusts us enough to be brave when asked
• He is gentle, forgiving, and loyal down to his bones
And above all —
we learned that he is not a number.
Not a throwaway horse.
Not a broken spirit.
He is Kenny.
And we wouldn’t trade him for the world. 💚🐴
