HOPI by Dixie Ayala

I met Hopi, a mini horse, at the So Cal Mini Horse Sanctuary, where I volunteer two days a week. Jeanne Oliver, the founder and president, suggested I spend time with Hopi. 

She was a loner, often standing in a corner by herself instead of mingling with the herd. At first, I felt sad for the little horse. As time went on, it became clear that being alone was her comfort zone.

I wasn’t sure how it would work out to have a relationship with her; however, I was willing to give it a try. Hopi tolerated my spending time with her. Some moments we connected. When any animal allows me into its space, I feel honored.

The first thing I learned was to respect who she was. Our days together consisted of walks or taking her to run in one of the arenas. Grooming in the barn was part of our routine. What a gorgeous coat she had, colors ranging from dark brown to blonde with a black heart shape on her nose. Certain places she loved being touched. A quiver from her bottom lip seemed to say, “That’s it, that’s the spot.” Sometimes when I would touch a place Hopi would toss her head or back away as if to say, “Don’t touch me there.” Very often she would fall asleep. I read somewhere when a horse goes to sleep in your presence it means they trust and feel safe. 

Sometimes when we walked, Hopi would stop and whinny. I wondered . . . was she calling for a lost friend?

Over the last three years, I have spent Mondays and Wednesdays with Hopi. My love grew each time we were together. Occasionally, I would give her a few pellets as a treat. When I close my eyes, I can still feel her gentle mouth in the palm of my hand. Hopi had been well-trained and was easy to be with. Some days she could be Eeyore-like as we plodded along on our walk. We both had the same speed: slow.

Often when a holiday rolled around the volunteer photographer would bring in festive hats and flowers for the minis to wear. Hopi wore hers, sometimes with a frown on her face, but would stand still and let pictures be taken anyway. 

On the days that we went to the arena, she would wander around sniffing the ground. Sometimes, Hopi would kick up her back legs, take off running like the wind, around and around, mane and tail flying. Then she would run to me as if to say, “I am ready to go home now.”

Jeanne told me that Hopi looked to me as her person. I truly felt honored. Still do.

Then came a day when Hopi wasn’t feeling well. The veterinarian tried several treatments but nothing worked. He suggested I take her to a grassy area and let her graze. We went to the field. She wandered around, buried her nose down deep into the grass, closed her eyes, and stood there. Perhaps she was remembering something from long, long ago. Hopi never tried to graze. My sense was she was in too much pain to eat.

Poor Hopi laid down in a sandy, shady area, near the barn as if to say, “I am ready to go now.” People who loved her surrounded her, especially me. Within minutes Hopi was gone. Though I didn’t want her to go, I didn’t want her to stay and hurt anymore. I said goodbye in my silent way.

She left a deep mark on my heart. I learned so much from Hopi. This special horse taught me to be true to myself, that it’s okay to toss my head and say, “Don’t touch me there,” and to walk at my own pace, no matter what. And to stand alone in a corner if I want to.

This beautiful horse never lied. She was always true to herself and caused no harm. Hopi was kind, gentle, and patient. Oh, how I miss that sweet girl. I picture Hopi running wild and free with mane and tail flying. She also has a special corner for alone time. When she grows tired of running, she will stop and graze in the green grass of home.

I have come to know that when I take a risk to love, sometimes my heart gets broken. So glad I took the risk.

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So Cal Mini Horse Sanctuary is a non-profit in Hemet, CA, that rescues and re-homes neglected and abused miniature horses.

Photo credit: Shari Skidmore