Tanya's Story

by Lauri McBeath-Davies

I was born with a condition called Congenital Hip Dysplasia. Unfortunately, it wasn’t properly diagnosed until I was about 10. At the age of 12 I underwent major reconstructive surgery on my hip. During the recovery process I was unable to walk. Being a normal active child, I refused to slow down. Fortunately for me I had Tanya.

Tanya was a Bay Arab mare. My grandfather bought her for me when she was 5. She had been green broke at 3, ridden for a month, and then put out to pasture and had very little human contact. As you can imagine, she was quite a handful for a child. Even though I had ridden horses from the age of 3, I would not call myself an accomplished rider. Tanya and I both were strong willed, impatient, and self centered. We battled for the title of “being in charge”. We were constantly trying to show each other who was boss and put each other in our place. My mom would chuckle at us, both stomping our feet home after an unsuccessful attempt to have a pleasant ride. Tanya was never mean, but always challenging. I took lessons on her and we learned and grew together. It was quite an adventure. We grew to understand each other, so by the time I had surgery we were a good team. We had learned to trust each other and accept each other.

When I came home from my 6 week stay in the hospital, I immediately tried to see her. She shied from my shinny silver crutches, so it took a bit of coaxing and patience to introduce her to my new look and sound. Occasionally, she would snort at my crutches, not quite sure what to make of them. For the next year she became my legs. I couldn’t put any weight on my bad leg, so climbing into a saddle was out of the question. I rode bareback, which was my favorite. To get on I carefully climbed on some stacked hay bales and gently slid onto her back. She was very patient with my awkward mounting procedure. Once I was on her I could hang my crutches from a tree and go all day on her. She took me fishing, hiking, swimming, visiting the neighbors, and any place I wanted to go. She was my freedom from my disability.

My doctors expressed concern for my safety and recovery. Activity was good, but falling off a horse during the recovery time could have been detrimental. It was a risk I was willing to take, and my parents didn’t try to stop me. We trusted my horse. During my time of being vulnerable, she was a gem. She didn’t get excited or cop an attitude. I felt she sensed that she was in charge of my safety and took it seriously. Once I was healed and able to handle the unexpected, she would have her moments of “attitude”. She liked to remind me that I was the boss because she allowed it. After I grew up and married, my children learned to ride on her. As usual, she was careful and gentle with the children, but loved to show me a little “attitude” when I rode.

My wonderful memories of her have encouraged me to get back into horses again. No horse will ever be Tanya, but I am once again enjoying riding.