Eulogy of a good friend

I originally wrote the piece below on April 1, 2015, but then things changed. Brady had another year and half with us. He lost his place as boss, but everyone still treated him with respect. Life was getting harder for him, but he stilled called out with that deep whinny to Lynn when she came outside. He came to her immediately when she walked or rode the 4-wheeler to the gate. But it was hard. He was getting so thin and fragile. So this week he went on to greener pastures. The boys are missing him and pretty quiet. Today will be my first day in the field without him--so I'll cry here and promise to hold it together out there. :(

The love they shared was obvious. According to Lynn, although she saved him, he saved her, too. They went through a lot of difficult things together. It's so hard to let go. . .

*****
Today is a very sad day. It is the 20th anniversary of Brady making his home with Lynn. It is also the end of his beautiful life. Lynn fell in love with Brady at first sight. She tried to find someone else, but he was the one. She waited a month longer and finally loaded him up and took him to see Dr. Branch about his warts. Once there she got a chewing out over his neglected condition. Finally she was able to get the doc to hear her say that she was wanting to buy (i.e. save) this boy. So he assured her that the warts could be taken care of. That was all it took. Brady had a new home.

That day was the beginning of a love affair. Although Lynn has laughed and said many, many times that he was rough and never did the same gait twice, if she could, she would still be riding him. She recalls once and only once, they hit the perfect gait. It was like floating. He never did it again. But it didn't matter, he was her go-to guy forever. He took her up sand dunes in one leap; he slalomed like a downhill racer on a tricky hill at Buck's Lake; he ran so fast that tears streamed from Lee's eyes, which helped him to realize why Lynn loves to ride as much as she does.

He was patient; he was kind. He and Lynn understood each other. Lynn could raise her finger and tell him, "Put your head down," and he would. She'd whisper to him to "be tough" and he'd handle whatever life threw at him--just for her. He rode all the way to Montana to work cattle. Once he got out of the trailer, his head was high the whole time--he'd never been able to see so far! Lynn's uncle wasn't impressed and tried to get her to ride one of his horses. Lynn wouldn't have anything to do with that.  By the time the cattle drive was over--her uncle wanted to buy Brady from her. But we all know he's priceless.

He knew the word, "hat." He would instantly stop and wait while Lynn got off and retrieved it. (Of course this was back in the day before helmets.) He knew he had to stand and wait while Lynn trimmed trees or took pictures. When she didn't pay attention to him after he tried repeatedly to get her to look at him--he knocked her hat off and made her turn around to see the saddle had slipped around him while they were walking. The two of them had a perfect partnership.

He knew how to be a good herd boss. He was never mean, but if Lynn told him to bring the boys down, he got them down. He kept them back if she needed to have some space. He let anyone eat with him, no matter where their place in the pecking order was.

He's the reason she keeps looking for a new horse. She wants another one just like him. Brady had that spark--a fire--that's hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. She doesn't have that with Ziggy. Yes, Zigs is a good horse. He, too, would do anything for her. But he's not Brady. He's not high-headed and jigging sideways down the trail. He'll never knock her glasses off in his excitement. Brady just had attitude.

My turn came to ride him. She told me, "He's not a 'dude' horse, but listen to him--he's smart and he won't get you into any trouble." He taught me to be a rider. We went through bees and I zigged when he zagged. But he waited for me. The saddle broke and I fell off below the trail; the saddle slid back on his butt and he just stood and waited for us to fix it. We went too far and then walked out together. He essentially make me feel like he was saying, "Just stay in the saddle--I'll get you there." He had a heart that wouldn't quit. He gave everything his all.

On this saddest of all days, I know Ed is in Heaven with a supply of Oreos and red licorice waiting for him. Silly Indy is probably there and already getting on his nerves. But down here, we are mourning the passing of a family member and good friend.