Story: Special Olympics

When asked to volunteer at a Special Olympics Horse show, I agreed knowing my son’s mare, Clancy, would be perfect.  I also had a new horse, Rio.  But, where Clancy was older and I had no qualms about her ability to handle any situation, Rio was different.  A beautiful horse on the outside, he was mostly chicken on the inside!  I knew that wheelchairs, crutches and unbalanced riders were not in his future.

The day of the show I loaded up both horses with the intention of using Clancy and leaving Rio tied to the trailer to observe the commotion and learn.  

Our local group had enough mounts for every rider.  However, another facility was short horses, meaning some of their clients wouldn’t get to participate.  After much negotiating, they finally got me to agree that two adult clients could ride Rio as long as I walked alongside.

I had kept an eye on Clancy and her rider, a young girl severely handicapped by Cerebral Palsy.  Clancy met every expectation, standing stoically for long periods while her rider was lowered onto her back and the necessary adjustments were made to accommodate for the girls physical limitations. Rio had also behaved well with both of his riders receiving medals.  Although I was very proud of both horses, I couldn’t have imagined what happened next.

During a break, I spotted a family and recognized the girl in the wheelchair as “Clancy’s girl”.  I went to them, making sure to keep myself between the fragile girl and Rio.  I was so engrossed in our conversation I didn’t notice Rio inching closer.  Without warning, he laid his head against my side and gently moved me over.  He stepped close to the wheelchair and lowered his head until it was nearly resting on the girl.  The young girl began waving her contracted arms, her fists nearly hitting the horse.  Her voice, a low, non-verbal, guttural sound, was getting louder and louder.   Through this commotion, my chicken-hearted horse never moved.  He allowed the girl to batter his face and yell in his ear without flinching.  

I asked the parents if he was scaring her and should I move him.  The girls mother said “Oh please, no!  That’s her happy voice.  She never gets to touch their faces or look into their eyes!”  The Father added, “This horse is amazing!  How long has he been a therapy horse?”  I looked at my watch, and beaming with pride said, “As of right now…about four hours.”

With tears on our faces, we adults stood there in awe.  We somehow knew we were watching two of God’s creatures communicate and share in a way beyond human understanding.

Jan Wagner