A Tribute to Angel
A Tribute to Angel
Sue Kaster wrote:
I'm going to warn you up front. This piece is going to make you cry. I had a horrible time finishing it, and now my mascara is smeared all over my face. I dug out the journal I had written in the day I first rode Pandemonium Angel. Then I put that with what I wrote the day I got the news that Angel had died, and then I filled in the blanks from the past.
There is a word for actions that are not quite in line with your normal routine, actions which, when viewed in hindsight, take on a totally different meaning. I can't remember the word, but whatever it is, it fits the pattern of my last memory of the great mare Pandemonium Angel.
I met Angel in 1991 when she came, along with a little "mini-herd" of horses, to eat grass in my overabundant pasture during a drought. She stayed through the winter, and was there when I met this guy who liked to ride. Angel was "his" riding horse; she was "too much horse" for me. I never rode her; I was too timid, but she was a resident of my farm for longer than the guy was. I liked Angel. She had class. She had been a show horse in her youth, but she didn't have an "uppity" attitude; she had good sense. Horse sense, I guess. She was a smart horse, and that's what I liked best of all. She had this funny way of looking back at you over her shoulder and pinning you with her eye.
It never entered my mind that she could not understand what I was saying or feeling. She was so nearly human, I knew she understood. Some animals have that uncanny "human-ness"; most don't. Angel did.
She understood when I just needed to talk, understood when I had to give her shots for something, understood when I was happy, and, most of all, she understood when I just needed to lean on her shoulder, bury my face in her mane, and cry. There is something about the furry mass and smell of a horse that comforts, but not all horses will stand still and allow you to draw that comfort from them. Angel always offered that when it was asked of her.
I had planned to buy Angel, figuring I would eventually find the courage to ride the friend who was so sweet natured that I should have known I had nothing to fear. But then I moved to Florida and didn't see her for a long time.
Sunday, October 1, was a beautiful day that demanded to be taken advantage of. The signs that winter was rattling her bones in the northland and would soon be casting them south were already showing. I don't normally "play hooky" from work, but that day I did. I took my cell phone, stuck a note on the door of the airport, locked the door and didn't look back. I was going to ride through that beautiful October day, and I just didn't care what the consequences might be.
Pandemonium was crowded that day. EVERYbody wanted to ride. In a moment of complete insanity, while shooting video of Sandy rubbing Angelina, Angel's exquisite daughter, with a big, crackly, empty dog food sack, I made the mistake of saying, "After watching you do that, even I would ride Angelina."
You don't say things like that around Sandy and get by with it. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the youngest, prettiest horse I had ever been on, wondering WHAT I thought I was doing. Angelina is "green broke", and she's only FIVE. But, much like her mother, Angelina has that nearly "human" intelligence. Not quite as strongly as Angel, but it's there. She also has that same way of looking over her shoulder at you and pinning you with her eye.
San took great footage of me riding Angelina, and Angel's soon to be leasee riding Angel -- Mother and daughter under saddle with two "green broke" riders aboard! I thought at the time, "What a priceless piece of film."
As I rode Angel's daughter with no huge problem, I felt this burning desire to ride Angel. I wanted to prove to myself I COULD now. Yes, she's older, but watching her, that "show horse" light was still in her eye, and I knew without question that if she wanted to, she could show her young daughter and everybody there a thing or two about what a grand old mare she still was.
We only had enough tack for four of us to ride at a time, and since I had managed to ride Angelina thus far, it was decided I should ride her into the fields and an even more inexperienced rider than I should take Angel.
We started up the hill, and the next thing everyone knew, Angel and rider were going back DOWN the hill. Jess gathered them up and told the young rider to take Angelina, and I would take Angel. Funny how that worked out...
Everybody ASSUMED I had ridden Angel many times before. Only Angel and I knew otherwise. I got up on her as if I had done so a hundred times, and we started off. No problem. I couldn't believe it! I WAS RIDING ANGEL! The young rider came up next to me on Angelina with this stunned look on his face and said, "How do you do that?"
In his voice was a respect I had never heard from anyone about my ability to ride a horse. A huge wave of wonder and gratitude to the mare beneath me rose up and I said, "We've known each other a long time. We're just a couple of old women who are good, good friends."
He just shook his head. Angel never gave me a so much as a moment's hesitation. Up hill, down hill, walk, trot, even young Jess asked why I kept saying I couldn't ride. How do you explain to people that until an hour ago, you couldn't, and that the "human" horse pair of Angel and daughter had just proved to you that you could. What's that kind of confidence worth? It has no price; it's a priceless gift.
Driving home through the fall reaching stars, I knew two things. I owed two horses a great deal, and I wanted to buy Angelina, both for her own nature, and as a tribute to the mother whose wise and gentle soul she has inherited.
When Sandy sent me the email telling me Angel had "gone west", I sat stunned. Then I came home and cried. I can't even begin to find the words to express the gratitde I feel for having played hooky from work that bright October day, for the shining memory that will last my lifetime of the gift a great-souled mare gave me. I'm so glad I went. If I had not, I would never have known the pleasure and pride of knowing I COULD ride Angel, the show mare, and do so well and with style to match her own.
I wrote in my journal that night, "Thank you, Angel, for the courage and confidence, and the priceless memory. You will remain in my heart a bright and gentle mare of human intelligence, and someone I shall always count among my best of friends. Rest you well."
"May the rode rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your coat and the grass be green beneath your feet,
May God hold you gently until we meet again..."
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As of 11/22/00:
Last updated 11/22/2001.