Fleet Spirit (1970 - 2000, probably Arabian X QH, 14.3 hh). Pat bought Fleet in 1977 to do a week-long self-contained camping trip, when Lonesome was getting too old, and by the end of the trip she knew she would never sell him. After that trip he went on to win honours in cross-country jumping, competitive trail and a number of other disciplines. Bold, competitive, friendly and smart, Fleet was unquestionably Pat's favourite among the 40 plus horses she has owned.

Fleet was one of those iron horses who just keep going and going and going. A decade after many horses have retired, Fleet was still giving lessons and going out for easy trail rides, and he remained the unquestioned boss of the barnyard for a long time. Finally at the age of 30 in June 2000 Fleet retired because of a heart murmur. Here at Lonesome Acres it was the end of an era, like Gordie Howe hanging up his skates! We hoped Fleet would still have a long and happy retirement, but it was not to be. He went downhill rapidly, and we could see that the only merciful course was to put him down. Fleet passed away on November 2, 2000 and is buried in the front pasture under an old apple tree.

Vic rarely rode Fleet, but he counted him as one of his favourite equine friends. Whenever Vic would get home from work, Fleet would give a loud whinny just as he opened the door of his car. Fleet was already 19 years old when Vic moved in with Pat, and to Vic the old guy was always the epitome of aging with dignity. Some time after Fleet's death, Vic wrote the following tribute.

Fleet Spirit 1970 — 2000 Fleet Spirit you were called; yet your spirit's lingered here for over thirty years. Fleet of foot in youth Pat's centaur half welded to her knees, haunches, coiling and uncoiling to hurl you down the course and at the end, airborne, jumping high and clear. Sober of spirit in age, your dignity inviolate, playing with colts, or even greeting the man late returning from the human irrelevancy of work to prompt him to attend the equine urgency of oats Watching the stiffness of your stride, I called you, "Old Man." Did you, watching the laborious bending of my back, think of me in your mind as "Old Horse"? Already old beyond the measure of your kind, for years you stood foursquare in the pasture against time's battery, the blows sliding off your glowing hide, never stinting on your work or pleasure because you thought moving, albeit painfully, preferable to the alternative of immotility. Five years ago at the statistical end you fought fiercely against the colic griping your guts because you were sure there were still many warm days to feel the sun against your skin. Suddenly like an old abandoned barn when the ridgepole has rotted through, your whole frame has sagged. A few weeks, a few months, too few, and now basking in this strange warm November sun, depths of eocene wisdom in your eyes, you're telling us, you've reached the course's end, time to clear your final jump. Good-bye, my ancient mentor and my friend. Vic

Fatima (1969 - 2004) was "just a lesson horse" but what a lesson horse. She went on working year after year. In spite of her considerable size (16.0 hh) she was always a favourite of our youngest students because she was so quiet and biddable in the ring—although for many years there was a spark out on the trail.

Fatima was the horse that Pat could not get rid of. She originally belonged to our now-retired blacksmith Rod Brookbanks. Way back then she finished in the top ten in North America for a Half Arabian Endurance Event (100 miles over three days). Pat bought her in 1986 for a former boy friend. When the relationship ended Pat sold her to a friend. Tragically the friend died in her 30's, and her husband asked Pat to take Fatima back. A few years later Pat sold her to another friend, Karen Nixon, for Karen's teenage daughter Kayla to learn to ride on. Fatima did indeed teach Kayla to ride, and the two of them finished an OCTRA 25-mile ride when Fatima was 23 years old. Eventually, however, Kayla left home, and her parents moved to Ottawa. You guessed it; Karen asked Pat to take Fatima back.

We thought we would just be providing a home for a few more years, but Fatima went on and on and on, still working as a lesson horse. For her last few years we restricted her to the lightest riders, and probably the moderate exercise helped her to keep going.

It was sad to part with Fatima on September 20, 2004, but she had a very good life. All of her owners took very good care of her, and she lived to a great age, equivalent to 100+ years in a human.

Then she was given to Pat on Labour Day, 1987, and Pat promised that she would never abandon her. Pat and Santa became inseparable. Pat took Santa everywhere she was allowed to, and Santa followed Pat everywhere she was allowed to.

When Pat and Vic started dating the next summer, it was also love at first sight between Vic and Santa. When Vic moved in the following spring, Santa was soon dividing her time between Pat and Vic. She was always with one or the other whether it was Vic up in his computer room or Pat out in the riding arena. Whenever we came home from work or shopping, Santa would greet us with joyous yodelling--that's the only word for the incredible noise she made. She hated to be shut up away from us and became quite an escape artist; she could open any door with her paws and teeth unless it was locked.

Santa was gentle and friendly with all the many visitors to Lonesome Acres and was loved by all the children who came here. She did have one bad habit for a dog on a horse farm. Whenever she emerged from the house, she would rush over to the barnyard fence and bark long and loud at the horses. The horses just ignored her. She did not seem to mind the horses in other circumstances. She would lie quietly beside a horse that was being groomed or sit beside Pat during riding lessons without making a sound. In her younger days she also enjoyed following the horses on a trail ride.

Santa developed arthritis when she was 12 years old. Two years later she suddenly lost the use of her hind legs. We helped her go outside with a sling for several weeks while she was under the treatment of a vet. As she was showing no signs of being able to walk after six weeks, the vet recommended putting her to sleep.

On October 2, 1999 we took Santa in for euthanasia and stayed with her throughout. Afterwards, we brought her home to bury her on our own land. Santa is gone now, but we will remember this beautiful, affectionate dog forever. Pat and Vic both wrote poems in her memory and posted them on Santa's tribute page.

Minnie was our house cat for a long time, a big fluffy orange tabby. He reached a considerable age, being born in 1984 and passing away on July 16, 2002. He was very shy and gentle. People often mistakenly thought that he was hissing at them. The truth is, his vocal cords were damaged by an infection as a kitten, and he couldn't meow. His only sound was a raspy noise, something like a hiss, but much softer. Minnie never hissed or showed aggression in any way.

Minnie got fed on top of our clothes dryer, so that the dogs wouldn't devour his cat kibble. He must have jumped up there 100 times a day to inquire hopefully if we were going to put any food in his overflowing bowl.

Katy was Vic's birthday dog. When Vic's birthday came up a few weeks after he moved in with Pat in 1989, she asked him if he would like a puppy. Pat knew that Vic had always been partial to black Labradors, and she had spotted a litter of black puppies from a Lab/Setter cross. There are innumerable pictures of Katy lying flat on her back--a common trait with Labradors.

Katy was a happy, carefree dog. She loved to play vigorously with Santa (1985 - 99) until her "big sister" got too old. She loved everyone who came here, and she wanted them to love her too. Her whole body wagged when someone arrived. She used to jump up on people, but when she got old and had a bad hip, she asked for your attention by tapping you with a paw.

Katy learned from Santa to bark at the horses, but with no encouragement from another dog she limited herself to three or four woofs. She was much more timid about the horses than Santa was. She would come up to the vicinity of the barn, but she would generally lie down several yards from the door. With her spectacular fur coat Katy seemed warm and cozy even when she chose to lie on top of a snowbank.

She loved to go for walks with Vic out in the back fields. Even at 13 she would still bounce and rock like a puppy when she thought Vic was going to take her for a walk.

We hoped that she would last a few more years and enjoy many more walks. Sadly she developed a kidney infection when she was 13½ and worsened rapidly. On November 4, 2002 we made the decision to have her put to sleep. She is buried now beside her old friend Santa.

Freya was a very pretty Arab / Welsh Pony Cross. With her sweet temper and her willingness to move out she was enjoyed by kids at all levels. Freya was already in her 20's when we bought her, but like many ponies she was quite durable and gave us 10 good years of service. In her last few years she suffered from COPD (breathing problems), and in the hot humid summer of 2005 we finally had to say good-bye to her at the age of 32.

photo by Leslie Town www.myhorse.ca

Tenor was a Tennessee Walker with the easy running walk of that breed. His first owner used him for many years in the gun dog trials. Pat figured any animal that was used to packs of dogs running around his feet and a rider firing off a shotgun would make a pretty calm lesson horse, and she wasn't disappointed. He had a gentle disposition that made him a hit with the kids, and at least two senior riders felt that he had done wonders to restore their self-confidence in the saddle. Tenor was with us far too short a time, less than a year, when a sudden acute kidney infection carried him off in the fall of 2005 at the age of 15.

Mack (March 12, 1985 — December 1, 2009) was a thoroughbred, registered name MicMac King. Pat purchased him in 1990. He had excellent racing bloodlines with Neartic in his ancestry. A dealer who knew him told us that he sold for $40,000 as a yearling. However, Mack was not much interested in racing. The only race he ever won was a maiden claiming race, which is by definition a contest between horses who have not yet won a race. So Mack was "claimed" by someone for $2,500 and became a pleasure horse. For a while he was owned and loved by a young woman who eventually could not pay his board and she begged Pat to take him so that he would have a good home. Pat answered truthfully that she only had $600 left in the bank after buying another horse, and the owner accepted that. So that is how Mack came to Lonesome Acres.

Mack soon worked his way into our hearts. He was always a big, gentle friendly guy and would lay his head on Vic's shoulder. Vic soon took him over and decreed that his name was to be spelled with a "k" because he had the power of a Mack truck. Vic used him for competitive trail as well as taking him on camping trips. Although Mack didn't like galloping in a short race on the track he had no objections to the 25 or 30 mile rides in competitive trail, and he always finished the rides in good shape, pronounced "fit to continue." Competitive trail is dominated by Arabian horses, and Mack with his handsome head was often mistaken for a really big Arabian. Over the years Mack and Vic completed more than 600 miles in sanctioned rides, but they must have done six or seven thousand miles of conditioning and pleasure riding.

There were some humourous episodes in the course of the competitive trail rides. On one of Mack's first rides we went out to the barn at 5 am to feed the horses and trailer them over to the ride site. Overnight Mack had got a big ugly manure stain on his haunch. Our pit crew rushed at him to clean it off, and Mack was so startled that he began to hiccup. He was still hiccuping two hours later when Vic presented him at the initial vet check. Vic asked the vet if there was any way to cure a horse of the hiccups. The vet responded, "I didn't even know a horse could hiccup" and began to call the other vets over to watch this phenomenon. Once we were out on the trail, the hiccups did go away.

Mack had extraordinarily long smooth gaits. A good trot is much prized in competitive trail because that is how you cover the long distance. Mack could sustain over 20 mph for miles at the trot. One time Vic and another rider were trying to make up for lost time—they had both taken a wrong turn. The other rider on a little Arabian mare was going at a hand gallop beside Vic, and after 5 minutes it suddenly registered with her that Vic was posting. She looked down at Mack's feet and exclaimed in awed tones, "Nice trot!"

We made one mistake about Mack. For a while Vic was using Tisca a lot, and an extremely tall young girl wanted to buy him for eventing. We let him go and within a month were regretting it. Fortunately after 5 years she lost interest in riding, and her father approached us about buying him back. We jumped at the chance even though they had not taken good care of Mack after the young woman stopped riding, and he was extremely skinny. With lots of TLC he regained his health and strength, and Vic took him on many more rides and then retired him from competition when he was about 18.

All those years as well as being a competitive trail horse Mack was a lesson horse. Perhaps he was even better in that role. He could be spooky and nervous on the trail, suspecting that every shady place hid a predator. (Part of the lore of Lonesome Acres was that Mack had written a book called The Intelligent Horse's Guide to Sabre-Tooth Tigers in Southern Ontario.) In the ring he had no such fears; he was steady and reliable, and Pat always described him as a "push-button" lesson horse. He must have taught dozens of kids to ride and he was much loved by many students.

Mack was approaching the end of his usefulness as a lesson horse; he was showing some signs of arthritis and could no longer carry the heavier students. We had hoped that he would have a pleasant retirement just standing in the sun, as he could easily have lived another 5 or even 10 years. Sadly he somehow broke his leg, and Pat found him standing on three legs when she went out in the morning. The vet soon came and confirmed the diagnosis, and there was no option but to put him to sleep. Pat and Vic were both there to stoke him and hold him as our big gentle boy slipped away.

Naturally Mack is missed by the many students who came to know him and love him. One of them contributed a poem to mark his passing.