August 24, 2015 
Shortly after I met my husband Ian for the first time, he expressed a disinterest in meeting my horse, Katie, who at the time was in her mid 20’s. She and I had been together since we were 15, so I told him that while it was nice dating him, I wasn’t interested in someone who didn’t have time for Katie. Point taken. Since that fateful ultimatum he has offered to come to the farm with me every day.
I have read dozens of odes to horse husbands and boyfriends—the show grooms, bucket holders and early morning slave drivers—and wanted to add my own. My husband and I are both serving members of the Canadian Forces. Last year, I was sent to live 4 hours away from our home, horses and dogs to complete a year-long course that would greatly enhance my future prospects. I took the posting, and my younger horse came with me.
Katie, by this time approaching 30, partially blind and dealing with controlled Cushings, couldn’t adjust to the move, so I left her behind in my husband’s care. Ian was nervous but dedicated to caring for her and we had her boarded at an incredible farm. It worked. He went to see her almost daily. He would go into the stable, grab a brush and a hoof pick, give her treats and love on his girl. He took time off work for farrier and vet appointments. He loved her to pieces during the weekdays when I couldn’t.
Ian and Katie
Then the day came. I was stuck at the United States border near Kingston, Ontario, waiting for my classmates to go through duty free when I got the text message. “Babe you need to call me. Katie isn’t good.”
Ian isn’t prone to exaggeration. If she had a cut or was lame, it wouldn’t be broached in that manner. So I knew the next couple words would mostly likely be “Okay, they can euthanize her.” We had always promised her dignity, and he had always promised to help me make the decision when it was time.
He picked me up on the side of the highway and we drove the 4 hours as fast as we safely could. We were just hoping to make it on time to say goodbye. We were 15 minutes late.
She had been put to sleep in her paddock, where she fell. He stayed with me as I cried and said goodbye. He snipped a piece of her beautiful tail and kissed her on the nose. But our night wasn’t over.
He offered to let me go home, cuddle with my dogs, and try and sleep off my grief while he watched over Katie until help arrived. As it turned out, neither of us went home that night. Two other horses on the farm were sick, showing the same symptoms as Katie, and they too needed our help. By this point, it was clear something was terribly wrong. They had ingested contaminated feed, we later discovered.
Ian went to the barn to assist the farm owners, and the owners of the sick horses. Despite our grief, he was determined to be not just my rock, but everyone else’s.
It was a long, terrible night. One horse was down in her stall and we had to hold her head to keep her from injuring herself further as she thrashed. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it. Nor did the vet, who was tied-up with another emergency call, when it was decided she had suffered enough. The horse’s owner, my husband and the farm owner were forced to take care of that, too. The strength of all of those men astounded me.
There was still one sick mare left to fight for. Her owner was exhausted, frightened and hadn’t slept in nearly 36 hours. So my husband again stepped up, grabbed the lead line and walked the mare for hours in the rain. He brushed her with a sweat scraper to keep the extra weight of the rainwater off her and helped me feed her apple chunks. Miraculously, the sick mare eventually pulled through.
We had arrived at the farm at 10 p.m. on a Thursday night. I left at 4:30 the following afternoon. Ian left 2 hours later, after the truck came for my mare and he was assured there was nothing more he could possibly do.
My husband didn’t sign up for that part of horse ownership. That much trauma, heartbreak and requisite strength of character surely isn’t what he thought I meant when I said “You have to meet my horse.” But he stepped up anyway.
He hasn’t made it to a horse show yet—our careers don’t allow for it—so he hasn’t had to wake up at “stupid o’ clock” to load the horse, drive it to the show and stand around for hours and wait. He did, however, spend every day looking after my heart for me while I was away, and he stood strong and brave for all of us when we needed it. That is what a horse husband does.
