by Ann Patty
My seat learned secure with a sense of balance, held firm,
And although grounded often, my respect for Him He did earn.
His rocking-horse canter floated upon air,
Extending and releasing like elastic, without a care.
As always, I held His soft mouth tender as we rode.
He wore His rubber-egg butt proudly, as we had last strode.
At 15 point 1 His package was small.
Yet He felt so very big—so absolutely tall.
Who knew He flew with the birds, and had their wings of flight?
As He could run with the wind blowing at the speed of light.
And we ran and we jumped, as one does just for joy,
As a gazelle might and would, over life’s hurdles, oh boy!
Others came and went, but He stayed, sharing more than half my life.
He laughed with me, cried with me, and consoled me in my times of strife.
He raised me up into the person I’ve become,
As I bore and raised my own children, and then some.
Known to all as 'Good ole Ab,' He fostered novice riders along,
Making them confident in character—they too grew strong.
He taught me, my friends, children et al,
That just being is beauty, and honesty stands tall.
Among His herd He roamed independent and free.
Like me, Abba belonged to no one, only to thee.
His life made full, brought mine complete.
Our journey saw too soon where our trail end would meet.
The best I could do was offer Him His lifetime home,
But His real reward lay across heaven's gate alone.
He taught me to listen, then told me when.
It was His time to go, but He would see me again.
This morning, I saw a shiny new copper penny.
It fell out of my pocket and onto the floor like many.
But this one stood alone, both shiny and bright,
As a symbol of his freedom that lived long in this light.
With the breeze at our backs, Ab took one final buck,
In the world He so loved; I wished upon Him a final good luck.
As my friend laid my friend ever so gently to earth,
The breeze carried His spirit into the land of new birth.
I don't pray to the Lord for His soul to keep,
Because He rests inside me eternally, for mine to reap.
Thank you Abdaar Fadan for the gifts that you gave,
No longer must you play a part here, as you rest in your grave.
Single handed you raised JD into your mirror of a special horse.
And in His turn, and by your guidance, He has taught Lily your course.
Together your herd stands solemn over your final resting spot,
Knowing you go before them, leading the way—and you found your way out.
Freedom rides high and rewards those who deserve it,
And you, my dear friend, won yours, as heaven assures it.
Each morning I will hear your soft nickering voice.
Each night you will trail in; I will miss seeing you, but respect your choice.
And when my time comes, I know you'll be there standing at my gate,
Peering out once again down our aisle, impatiently, wondering if I’m late.
To toss at me, push at me, burrowing your head deep,
To make sure I am listening, looking up ahead, and am not asleep.
No farewells to you, My Dear Sweet Old Friend,
As your heart and soul live on inside me, to my final of no end.
Registered as “Abdaar Fadan” aka “Ab,” “Abba,” and “Good ole Ab.”
Born May 12, 1976—As remembered this 28th Day of January 2010
3! Birds on old Ab’s back—Fitting for a horse who won his wings.
Ab & JD—Best Friends, always as a mirror of each other.
Tributes to Abba
These are just some excerpts of the acknowledgments that poured in from family and friends after I sent out Abba's poem. Of the many condolences and memories, only a select few are included here. Primarily, these are the ones which illustrated Abba's life force and his impact on others. Contributor names are removed to protect privacy.
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So many years ago and our cart ride that turned almost fatal still is etched in my memory banks. How gallant Ab was in his immense pain. And his patience with the proceedings immeasurable. He might have been a small horse in stature, but he was tall in integrity. May he rest in peace in carriage heaven.
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I can’t believe it—I just saw Ab out in the pasture the other day and we commented how good he looked for his age. We are so sorry for your loss but are envious of what a wonderful life adventure you had with him. He was content and loved! You are in our thoughts!
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… I have that awesome mountain picture you gave me of us three girls up on Ab, Shalika and Lady on one of our wonderful mountain trips; it's sitting right here in my office above my computer where my important pictures are on display! Remember, tears are a cleansing of the soul!
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WOW!! Thank you for your words of love, compassion, heartfelt longing and understanding of what it is to have such a friend for so many years. Thanks for sharing. Again WOW!!
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Oh, no... Patty, I'm so, so sorry... He took a special place in my heart and I'm so sad to hear he's moved on. I know there's nothing anyone can say to you right now to ease the loss... he had a wonderful home and mom. A good, strong, healthy life. I adored him. He was kind, and fun, and totally unique; I'm truly heartbroken, Patty. I couldn't finish your Ode... maybe later...
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...What a wonderful tribute you've written to your #1 horse buddy! He truly was special. I'll always remember him showing me where you were in the tall grass the afternoon he got spooked by the twine in the Herb Farm's lot and where you lay from a concussion.
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All animals should know that kind of love, and be remembered as beautifully. We know there's not a thing we could say that would help right now. But as my eyes filled reading your words, again and again it occurred to me how fortunate a union you had, and how blessed your family was, and is.
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This is the most beautiful poem I've read. While I'm so sad that Abba is gone, I know he is where his soul is at rest and now he can peacefully reside. I will call u tomorrow. Love u. Thank u for sharing ur thoughts and story in this perfect poem.
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Patty, so sorry about Ab. You two were so blessed to have each other!! Not many people get a chance like that! The poem is beautiful.
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Patty, what a beautiful way to remember Ab. I am sorry he is gone. It doesn't seem like it was that long ago that we went over to Ellen's to look at a young gelding peeking down the aisle at us as we approached.
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Oh, Good ole Ab… well, now that I’ve balled… you’d think he was my horse! My favorite memory, one I will always cherish, is racing down the road at Springwood Ranch. All the open hills, the wind, and Ab and you running at full tilt and Mischia trying her darnedest to keep up, or at least not get left too much in the dust. Glad we had a mild winter this year for Ab—Yesterday was beautiful!
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Patty, I am so sorry to hear about Ab. What a great tribute. I will always remember when I first saw him and how beautiful he was. His coat just shined. His eyes so big, and gentle. You always lived out my dreams of having a horse friend and a life filled with horses and now that Ab is gone I feel your pain and sadness for there is no greater love than that of an animal. The pain goes away a bit, but you will always miss them. You are in my thoughts.
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Patty, I am s
o sorry to hear about Ab. Can't believe it. It was like he was going to be there forever. It won't be the same without seeing him grazing out in his pasture. An era gone by. All that history of your last 30 years certainly came rushing back in to say goodbye. That's what special animal friends do. Leave their friends with great memories. He had a wonderful life.
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I think sharing good memories spreads the love that we need so much in today's world. I think you are right about 'remembering' and that 'some' of us have an innate ability to connect with animals. With that comes an understanding and ability to sense what the other is thinking/feeling. Now for the next stage in your life! I'm sure rock-steady JD and Lily will continue to give you all the joys and challenges that horses do so well. I wish you all the very best!
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Hi Patty, I'm very sorry for your loss, but very happy that you had such a great friend, companion, teacher, student, and most important... a family member. You are very lucky to have had him in your life... and he was lucky to have you in his!
I want to thank you and Ab for my first ‘real’ experience riding a horse. I have great memories of the few times I rode with him. In my first 100 feet, he backed me down into a ditch. :-) He was testing me... teaching me that horses need a leader! For an instant I was worried, but then I was laughing, for I saw this act for what it was. I knew he meant me no harm!
As we rode that first time, he taught me that mutual respect was required; patience, understanding, and compassion are needed to gain their trust. Strength and courage are needed to provide them the security they need to take on the trail. Later, as Ab raced down familiar trails, I felt his excitement and joy. I felt how he transmitted this in a way that only horses can do.
By the end of the day, I was exhilarated and knew I was hooked. I experienced the freedom of exploring and discovering new places… or just enjoying the beauty of nature around us as can only be felt on horseback.
Thank you, Ab, for introducing me to a whole new experience in life. I have certainly grown from the experience into a better person. And thank you, Patty, for entrusting me with your best friend! Or was it trusting Ab to take care of yet another rookie rider…
And so, my sweet Abba ~ You will continue to live on in all the people you touched. Farewell, dear friend.
Thank You for Enjoying
ABBA
Life, Love & Letting Go
Never Name Your Pig
From the Lily Horse's Mouth
By Sassy Lil Playgirl aka "Lily"
& Ghostwriter Patty Ann
Edited by Debbie Brunettin
Published by: Patty Ann
Copyright 2014 Patty Ann
Never Name Your Pig
From the Lily Horse's Mouth
Introducin' Me, Lily!
Hey-Hay! My name is Lily. I was just your average middle-aged mare—until one day my world was rocked wild by an unexpected screechin' swine. This is MY story. It's about how I subsequently developed a big pig problem—and more importantly, how I got over my phobia.
I'm not that unusual. We equines typically do not enjoy bellowin' boars, much less quietly grazin' ones. Given the choice, we'd rather not partake in a pig encounter—it goes against our evolutionary nature. But many of us have had some sort of beastly meeting. So a pig party of one or more is not a usual issue to contend with. Anyway, many of us horses acknowledge that, on occasion, we certainly can acquire silly fears from other nonsensical occurrences. So my lesson can serve as your learning.
My story here recounts the onset of my extreme pig paranoia—from my behavior and anxieties, and then beyond, to the ultimate remedy that helped heal me: yes, I got my own personal pair o' pigs.
Find yourself in my barn seein' what I saw, smellin' what I smelled, and feelin' the angst of my confused brain. From the pig infestation, through to my final attitude adjustment, my thoughts and pictures are posted here. Discover how one empty stall turned over to pigs took on a life of its own. And how these happy hogs quickly became the sole center of my universe.
Personal assistants come in all shapes and sizes. I had four to help me heal, plus the support of my other four- and two-legged comrades. Never let a pig fool you. They are smart. Sometimes they even have an agenda. And they are audacious. But, more importantly, Never Name Your Pig—for obvious reasons.
Now Day 5 of Pig Mania
March 3, 2014.
I'm fine, Ma, really I am . . . sort of . . . well, better anyway.
Ma came out to see how I'm doin'. Here it is—day five of PIGS in my barn—and I guess I was havin' a mini meltdown. See, when Ma came out to feed this morning, it was rainin' hard. She saw me standin' out in the arena, all wet—obviously—and shakin' a bit.
"Lily, come here," Ma said. "How long you been out there in that rain? What's wrong, girl? I know that hard rain pelting the metal roof gets to you sometimes . . ." her voice trailed off as she looked over towards the sleepin' pig nursery, then Ma said, "I get it."
Ya, she does. Get it. IT being one of my two least favorite things in the whole world, which are rattlin' rain on the rooftop—and pigs squealin'. Ma went ahead and threw green flavorful alfalfa into JD's stall, then mine too. Hard to turn your nose up at fresh greens every meal, so I wandered back inside.
Ma is such a worrywart. She kept a watchful eye on me. "Lily, are your pig nerves kicking in, or are you chilled from the rain?" she said, wondering.
Truthfully? It’s a bit of both. It's not cold out in the least, but my fine hair—compliments of my fine breedin'—never grows a thick winter coat. So I'm sensitive. But right now I'm hungry. Alfalfa, here I come.
So, I'm eatin' in my nice cozy stall and look across the twenty-somethin' foot aisle to the pig nursery as I chomp hay. Crap! Ma is openin' their nursery curtains and lookin' in. Toby is right there too, peakin' through the mesh gate and waggin' his K9 tail. Dumb dog, don't he get it? Pigs are beastly scary!
Oh, and there they go again—inside the pigpen. Ma is tellin' Toby to settle down. Now, there's a command he rarely obeys. From what I hear and can see through the gate grate, Toby is still waggin' his tail as he approaches his former Dogloo house. Now it's a Pigloo converted into a pig bedroom that even has a dome light!
When visibility permits, I can see from my stall directly into the Pigloo. The pigs are spoiled, like all Ma's animals are, includin' moi. Them are probably the only runts in the whole valley that have digs like this. A completely enclosed huge horse stall, half matted, half grass hay; a filled feed bin for an all-they-can-eat buffet, whenever they want; and a waterin' tube complete with a drinkin' nibble no less. And Toby's former dog Igloo is now stuffed snug with old bed blankets. Holy Cow—or rather Pig! Who would have thunk this one up!
After Toby got his kicks, Ma came back to check on me. She went to my trailer and came back with my blanket. I love my blankee! All Ma has to do is show me the open neckline hole and I dive right in. Heck, she can position my blankee like this from across the field and I come a trottin' in just to wear my coat.
Next, she pulled out a little white bucket and disappeared to her house. When Ma came back she was stirrin' some of my rice bran into a small bowl. She was makin' one of her concoctions. She knows I can't resist my bran, sweetened a tad. And that I don't care that somethin' else might be slipped into it too.
Ma handfed the mash to me from her Tupperware bowl. Yummy. She locked me in my stall. Yup, I had to deal with the fact that I was confined. And so were those pigs—yet not far enough away from me. Awhile later, Ma came back to check on me. Like I said Ma is such a worrywart she is. Admittedly I'm now much calmer—inside my blankee and outta the rain, and given a potion to calm my nerves. I'm cool. Ma actually made me stay in all night too and gave me another dose of her invention before bedtime. The next mornin' when Ma looked into my stall, she was pleased. "JD, you are a good brother staying with Lily all night." The truth is JD likes to keep his watchful eye on my whereabouts. We are stuck togeth
er like Siamese twins most of the time.
Six days ago, Ma and her pig-farmer friend set up the Taj Mahal of a pigstall. Ma's friend breeds high-end pigs for the valley 4H kids. This time a year he has an overabundance of ’em. Ma arranged to help wean some pigs. "For Lily's benefit," she said. Ha, me thinks!
That day of settin' up the pig palace of a stall, I heard Ma talkin' about me again. She told her pig-farmer friend the whole story about my psychological pig problem and how it came to be. Just so happened that my trauma started at this pig-farmer friend's farm.
