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That was 26 years ago. Gay Ray is now 29 years old and is as much a part
of my life today as he was that first day he bucked his way out of the
trailer. With his kind, loyal and affectionate nature, he has galloped
his way into my heart. During my transition from college to work, job
transfers, marriage, divorce and countless moves, he has been the anchor
in my life. The influence he has had on me is immeasurable. Together we
have learned many lessons about courage and love.
Acts of Courage
Gay Ray first demonstrated his courage when he was 4 years old. I boarded
him at a stable neighboring a large cattle operation where we practiced
herding cows. One day, Gay Ray and I heard a thunderous noise on the hill
above our trail. We looked up to see cattle running at breakneck speed
straight towards the arena where a large group of small children were
taking lessons. Suddenly, I registered that the arena was in the direct
path of the stampeding cattle and turned Gay Ray around. With one swift
kick we were at warp speed galloping towards the crossing to intercept
the cattle before they reached the children. At the crossing, Gay Ray
instinctively raced to block their flight path, as we directed the cattle
towards a fenced pasture area to the right of the arena. With his
nostrils still flaring, Gay Ray trotted back towards the arena where 30
little hands greeted him with pats of love and appreciation fit only for
a hero.
A cattle stampede was tame compared to our encounter at a near-by
park. Gay Ray was ponying my yearling Arabian colt and had just rounded a
corner on the narrow trail, when we found ourselves staring into the
piercing eyes of a crouched mountain lion. With my heart pounding in my
throat, I nudged Gay Ray forward. Without a moment's hesitation, he moved
towards the mountain lion who instantly took flight. It wasn't until I
was driving home that I finally regained the feeling in my hands!
Several years ago while trail riding in the Back Bay, I witnessed the
most amazing display of strength and determination I have ever seen in a
horse. When I asked Gay Ray to cross what look like an innocuous shallow
stream, he unexpectedly balked, sniffing and pawing at the
ground. Finally, in response to my unrelenting coaxing, he attempted to
leap the wide creek. Gay Ray landed in quicksand, sinking up to his
belly. I was able to climb off and reach solid ground, but watched
helplessly as he struggled to free himself. Pawing in the mud, he found a
buried patch of stable ground, and in one gallant effort, placed his
front left hoof on the shelf. With every ounce of strength, he lifted his
front half out of the quicksand on that one leg. The rest of his body
quickly followed.
Gay Ray's courage continues unabated. At the age of 20, he was diagnosed
with a rare cancerous thyroid tumor. I have videos of him surrounded by a
team of doctors poking and prodding him while he stood quietly without
tranquilizers or sedatives. He underwent surgery to remove the tumor and
then endured several nuclear scans. We all rejoiced when it was
discovered the cancer had not spread.
Kindness, Patience & Humor
Gay Ray is as kind and patient as he is brave. There is not a soul on
this earth that cannot ride Gay Ray. Young, old, handicapped--he is the
turnkey horse. Even in his youth he was gentler than most. Gay Ray was 3
when my 2-year-old niece ran up to him and threw herself upon him,
tightly hugging his front leg. He slowly looked down at her and stood
quietly while in haste I peeled her off of him.
His kindness also is reflected in the way he mentors my Arabian
foals. When I bring them to him on the first day of weaning, Gay Ray
thinks I cannot see him rolling his eyes as he spies the wide-eyed
youngster I have in tow. He always graciously accepts them and instills
in them his never-ending patience and gentle nature. He has never kicked
at them or been aggressive. He is forever the perfect teacher. And like
all really good teachers, he has a well-developed sense of humor.
I will never forget one Easter Sunday egg hunt. I had taken great care to
hide colored eggs all around the stable grounds for my niece and
nephew. Mind you, in those days Gay Ray had the run of the stable. By the
end of the Easter egg hunt, the kids had uncovered 10 eggs and Gay Ray
had found and eaten four of them. The kids laughed hysterically as they
watched him s-t-r-e-t-c-h his lips over a stall door and crunch down on
one, shell and all!
Riding Gay Ray had always been a joy. There is not one discipline Gay Ray
cannot perform well. Whether it's western, English or dressage (and he
certainly has had his fair share of endurance workouts), he does it all
and he does it well. He is the definition of the all-purpose horse and in
my recollection, has never balked at anything ever.
Although Gay Ray likes to play games--sometimes he will walk to the back
of the pasture and pretend to hide--he always comes when he hears my
special whistle. This holds true even when he is in the middle of a meal
that his pasture mates will finish by the time he returns.
Along the way, I've had my fair share of spills. Upon hitting the ground,
I can expect to look up and see Gay Ray standing as still as a statue. I
remember one time hitting the ground so hard I had to struggle to remain
conscious. I laid there, for what seemed forever, trying to get my wits
about me. Gay Ray stood right beside me the whole time not moving a
muscle. To this day, he has never left the scene of an accident!
In our many moves, Gay Ray and I have ridden nearly every part of this
country. After all of those miles, I can still say he has never had a
lame day in his life. At the age of 28, he can still beat almost any
horse in the barn, without breaking a sweat. My eyes still sting when
runs at a full tilt chasing the wind. Even in his golden years, he still
loves to go out on a trail. I take off his lead, open the back of the
trailer and he obediently steps on in without a moment's hesitation.
Life Changing
Because Gay Ray and I have been blessed with a companionship spanning a
quarter of a century, he has literally changed the course of my life,
always for the better. When I returned to college to finish my animal
science degree, it was the end of our first year together. My father said
he could no longer afford to pay Gay Ray's board and suggested I sell
him. I was so determined to keep him that I landed a part-time job in the
college's business office as an entry-level accounting clerk to pay for
his board. My love for Gay Ray, which motivated me to make those monthly
board payments, unwittingly steered me in the direction of my present
career. Today, I am a certified public accountant with a successful
career.
In addition to his influence on my career, Gay Ray is, in almost every
way, responsible for the dear friends I have in my life. Because he and I
have lived in many places, I have made horse friends all over the
country. The phone rings early on Saturday mornings from friends on the
East Coast and later from those further west. I am truly blessed when I
think of the dear friends I have made because of my association with this
horse.
In my search for a better quality of life for both of us, I moved from
the city with its long commute to the barn to "horse heaven," the
beautiful Santa Ynez Valley in California where trails, ranches,
vineyards, lush hills and valleys abound. Gay Ray even influences where I
live.
Finally and probably most importantly, my companionship with Gay Ray has
taught me the meaning of love and commitment at an early age. As the sole
provider of his food, shelter and safety since my college years, I have
come to grips with the genuine meaning of responsibility and
"till-death-do-us-part" devotion. I am 46 now and my love affair with Gay
Ray is in its 26th year, and I have to say that if he were a man,
well....I would surely marry him!
Postscript: Gay Ray passed away last year. Here's how Steele recalls
his final hours: Gay Rays' greatest act of courage was in the last
moments of his life. I was three hours from home when I got the news that
he was down in the pasture. When I arrived home a few hours later and ran
to his side, his eyes opened wide when I spoke to him and with what
appeared to be every ounce of strength, he struggled to his feet. With my
encouragement he took a few steps, stopped and looked at me for a long
moment and then went down again. Putting him down was the hardest
decision I have ever made. Later it would be determined that he had
broken his neck in three places apparently by running into a fence. I got
to thank him for all of our wonderful experiences and be with him for his
last breath. He is buried on the hillside of the ranch over looking the
beautiful Santa Ynez Valley and the trails we frequented.
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