When my first horse kept coming up lame from navicular, I retired her out to pasture at a 45-acre farm in western New Jersey. An appendix quarter horse with far more thoroughbred in her than quarter, Mystic was just 18 and still very full of herself, enjoying long gallops out in the mare's pasture. She began to settle down somewhat as she developed a relationship with another retired horse--Lilly, who was well into her 30s and blind. After being in for the night, the horses would be led one by one to the pasture, and Mystic, who had always been known to bolt away as quickly as possible, would start waiting for Lilly. Lilly would put her nose into Mystic’s hip, and, like a seeing eye horse, Mystic would lead Lilly up into the pasture. She would lead her to the watering trough and lead her back to the gait when it was time to go in for the night. She would trot a defensive ring around Lilly when other horses played too closely or began nagging Lilly.
When Lilly passed away after a particularly difficult winter, Mystic aged dramatically. Her entire demeanor changed and she suddenly seemed old and lost without her friend. She was now approaching her mid 20s and then suffered a stroke.
Debating whether she should be put down, everyone waited and watched as they kept Mystic in a small paddock near the mare's pasture. All the while, standing with her head over the paddock fence, a new young standardbred mare nickered to her anxiously.
Mystic recuperated enough to rejoin the mare herd where the little standardbred now took on her role as guide horse and protector. They remained pasture buddies for the next few years until Mystic passed on last spring.
It was the first time I had been unreachable to everyone who was calling to tell me to say that something was wrong with Mysti, and I didn't hear about it until some hours later. The only thought that made the loss easier to bear was knowing that Mystic had now crossed over the rainbow bridge to rejoin her dear friend. She and Lilly would be galloping and frolicking together in endless fields of green.