A journey to trust and home

A Journey to Trust and Home

When I first brought Raina into my life, I wasn’t yet ready to keep her at home. Without the proper facilities—a paddock, stable, or feed storage—I was fortunate to have my sister-in-law’s herd welcome her. Raina was sweet but deeply fearful, jumping at every sound and shadow. After years away from horses, I found myself both thrilled and overwhelmed by the responsibility.

Motherhood had changed me. The boldness I once had seemed to fade, replaced by caution. I sometimes doubted myself, wondering if I was up to the task. But slowly, day by day, Raina and I began to understand one another. A bond of trust started to form, fragile yet promising.

Back home, I poured my energy into creating a proper space for her. Building a paddock, preparing a stable, and organizing feed took months of hard work. When it was finally ready, I felt the time had come to bring Raina home. But horses are herd animals—they’re not meant to live alone. That meant finding her a companion.

Enter Duna.

Duna came into my life like a wish fulfilled. On the drive to see the available horses, I’d say to my sister in law and her daughters, “Wouldn’t it be perfect if we found a buckskin with a personality like Bibi and a little bit of Gracie? Older, calm, maybe between 12 and 18 years old?” Bibi and Gracie were my sister-in-law’s horses. Bibi was the picture of serenity—patient, forgiving, and dependable. Gracie, on the other hand, was assertive and people-oriented, with a spark of individuality.

And there she was. Duna. She ticked every box: a beautiful buckskin mare with a calm, steady energy, a touch of independence, and a heart that seemed ready to connect.

Duna joined us, and her presence was transformative. Not only was she a grounding influence to my family, but she also taught me so much. Where Raina hesitated, Duna was confident. Where Raina held back, Duna led the way. Initially, the plan was for Raina to join us a week after Duna’s arrival.

But life has a way of rewriting plans.

Not long after, Raina experienced a frightening episode of choke—a blockage in her throat that left her struggling and me deeply shaken. It was a wake-up call. I realized I wasn’t ready to bring Raina home yet, especially not with my young family nearby. She was still so young herself, so green, and had so much to learn. It wasn’t safe—not for her, not for us. So she could stay at my Sister in laws place as long as needed🙏.

This left Duna alone. I did my best to keep her company, shuttling her back and forth to my sister-in-law’s so she could see other horses. But every time we walked back to my property, her whinnies and restless pacing broke my heart. She was lonely, and I knew I needed to find a solution.

My husband had initially agreed to one horse, kept with his sister. Now, we were navigating the realities of two horses on our own property. And then, life threw another twist: the need for a third. A small one.

That’s when Pikachu came into our lives.

We found him online, a tiny Shetland pony who was also alone and searching for a new home. The moment the children saw him, they were smitten. How could we say no? Pikachu joined our family, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. Watching Duna and Pikachu together was pure joy. They were inseparable, their happiness filling the air around us.

Now, with Duna and Pikachu, I had the space and time to focus on Raina. I could learn from Duna’s quiet wisdom, from Pikachu’s lighthearted spirit. Where Raina refused to give her feet, Duna offered hers without hesitation. Where Raina was unsure, Duna stood firm.

This journey hasn’t been easy. It hasn’t gone according to plan. But it’s ours. Each step has brought me closer to understanding not just my horses, but myself. Together, we’re building something beautiful: trust, home, and a shared sense of belonging.