A Girl and A Shovel

Lady - 1980 AQHA Mare

Since I was able to talk, I loved horses. My parents (NOT horse people) thought it was cute, but probably a phase - until I brought them the Sunday classified ads with a fifty-dollar donkey that was meant to be mine. My mom found a reputable trainer in our area and at the age of seven, I began riding lessons and started my early riding career on Spanky, a small, spunky Quarter Horse gelding. Mary, my trainer, told my parents I was a natural. Boy, she knew how to reel them in. I took a lesson once a week, and it was tough waiting seven days for the next one. My love for horses grew stronger and deeper. My second grade teacher told my mom and dad that I thought only about horses and the best way to get me to read was to give me books with horses in them (thank you Mrs. Moore for developing my reading skills). You could say I was obsessed.  I continued to take riding lessons with Mary and traveled with her and her daughter to gymkhanas, shows, and other horse events. As much as I loved it, I never thought I would own my own horse.  

I spent the better part of 1988 working hard to incur Santa’s good will. I performed my chores with gusto, cleaned many of Mary’s stalls, and did what I was told (ok, most of the time). I knew Santa did not have much room for a horse in his sleigh, but with all of my diligent work I might end up with a new pair of boots. A week before Christmas, my trainer delivered some upsetting news. My lesson horse, Lady, had been for sale, and finally someone bought her. So after Christmas, I would be riding one of her other horses. I established a strong bond with Lady and I was going to miss her. Also, I was jealous. Mary told to me Lady would become a little girl’s horse.  On Christmas Eve, my mom drove me to the ranch, and I cried my goodbyes to Lady.  I told her to take care of the little girl and teach her everything she taught me. I kissed her on the nose and left thinking I would never see her again.

On Christmas morning, my little sister, Dawn, and I managed to sleep in for a change. We finally woke up and raced each other to our presents. As I handed out gifts from under the tree, I became acutely aware that I had considerably less gifts than my Dawn, but maybe that meant I was in line for a big gift. Dawn opened her presents while I watched. Not being able to take it one more minute, I blurted out, “Mom, was I a bad kid over the year?”

“No, honey. Why would you ask that?” Mom said looking concerned.

“Well, I must have because Santa didn’t bring me much for Christmas.”

 “Oh, Sweetie, you missed one. There’s another gift behind the TV. I think this one will make you happy,” Mom said.

I rushed over to the TV console and peeked behind. My mom, an eternal optimist, certainly couldn’t think that what was behind the TV constituted a Christmas present….it was a red shovel! And, yes it did have a bow on it, but this could not be a gift.

What followed next was an explanation about how I could use the shovel on Mary’s stalls and how much more convenient that would be for me.  Then my loving parents suggested I practice with my new shovel on cleaning up dog poop (I won’t even get into the descriptions of what several Labradors can contribute to this lesson).

Begrudgingly, I put on my coat and slumped outside as my mom charged ahead.  My dad pointed out that he hadn’t cleaned a certain area and we could find some “good” ones over there. Oh, I couldn’t believe that I was going to ruin my great new shovel on dog poop. We turned the corner, and maybe you’ve already guessed this, but there she was, my Lady. I couldn’t believe it! Were my eyes lying to me?  I spun on my heels to my mom. She was crying and I knew it was real. I got a horse. She was all mine. I ran as fast as I could to her and threw my arms around her neck.  I, Chelsie Olafson, an eight year old girl who loved horses, now owned a horse, and not any horse, Lady.  

At that time, I didn't know the best part of the story. My mom (remember she is not a horse person) woke up at 4 am, and jogged 3 miles to the ranch. She saddled Lady and rode her to our house! Once she got home, she patiently waited for us to wake up. She thought for sure I would know what was going on, as Lady was quite upset about leaving her herd buddies and making quite the ruckus. I now know the joy I felt seeing Lady was only second to the joy my parents had planning and orchestrating a magical Christmas. My parents had no way of knowing that the purchase of a horse for their grade schooler would lead to a career as an equine veterinarian. By the way, I used the red shovel for many years. This is the beginning to my horse story.    

Our early career. Lady was an reject cutting horse, but she love to run barrels.