Counting the Cost

Raise your hand if you’d spend your last dime to be sure your horse gets the care he needs. 

Keep it up if you’ve done that. 

Ok, new question.  

Show of hands, how many of you have a partner in your life who loves you but doesn’t share your passion for your four-legged friend?

I am about midway, speaking in general terms, between the beginning and the end of my journey in this life.  Barring any unforeseen issues like, well, death, I should have another 30 or so years. 

I met the man who would become my husband when I was newly 18, and we jumped into life together without hesitation and with great enthusiasm. 

Our first Christmas as a newly married couple in Wichita Falls, Texas, Don bought me an adorable palomino colt.  For the next 35 years, we’ve had one or two or three horses (and a few donkeys) nearly all the time.  Practical? Hardley.

Twenty-three-year-old me on Ebenezer, he's about 3 in this picture.

Horses are EXPENSIVE.

For decades, I was acutely aware of how expensive it was, and that was before I got into fancy schmancy Andalusians.  

I’ve had to make hard choices along the way and always there was the guilt.  I’m spending too much!  I’m not spending enough!  The ongoing balance between the joy of having horses and the pain of paying for board and vets and food and shoes and saddles and…well, if you’re here, reading this, you know the drill. It’s like a giant teeter-totter; sometimes you’re up and sometimes you get slammed to the ground

In 2021, we sold our ranch in Ledbetter, Texas, and moved to the suburbs of Austin. I sold my Andalusian, and our paint horse eventually went to live with our daughter up in Pennsylvania (who you know as Rachael from Well Equestrians).

My husband’s relief was palpable. For the first time in forever, we were free from the responsibility of paying for and caring for horses.

Then, in a moment of Covid-induced brilliance, we sold everything we owned - our house, cars, trucks, trailers, plates, buckets, spoons, rugs, curtains, potted plants, and even the brand-new bread maker I adored- and moved to Costa Rica with our dogs.

Then, a couple of years later, in a moment of heat-induced delirium. We sold our place in Costa Rica and shifted our focus to Europe. If you’re interested in that story, it’s on my website, LowExpatations.com. It’s way too much to get into here. Nothing bad happened; it’s a long and winding road of learning and healing. The little beach town of Playas Del Coco was a true blessing to our weary souls, just not the place we wanted to stay long-term. There’s no snow skiing in Costa Rica, and Don couldn’t live that way forever. 

Fast forward to mid 2025 and Well Equestrians.  Horses are back in the picture, but I’m an adviser, a trainer who can use decades of experience to help other horses and their people. Not an owner. 

Little did I know…

Much to the chagrin and consternation of my husband, I accidentally found the new love of my life.  A twerpy, yearling, Andalusian/Saddlebred cross with club feet and a big ego.  Without hesitation (or discussing it with him), I bought the baby.  

So…here we are again.

This time, I’m in a different phase of life with a new mentality; money is for horses, that’s why you have it, to spend it on horses. My husband is not totally on board with this mantra, ‘cause he thinks money is for buying homes in Italy and skiing.

The slight hiccup in this thought process is, well, um.  We don’t have jobs right now. 

So…

How do we live our regular life?  It’s complicated.  When we left Texas, we sold a few investments, then we bought property in Costa Rica to use for Airbnb, then we sold those (made good money) and bought an investment condo in Pennsylvania, an investment property in Italy and the apartment I am currently sitting in, writing this. 

We manage this because we paid cash for our properties, and we no longer have debt. But it’s tight.

So…

How in the world can I marry these opposing concepts? Money is for horses, and we don’t have money?  I’m not sure yet, but I can tell you that one thing has changed: guilt. I don’t have small children at home who are my top priority. My husband no longer works a demanding career that takes him to war zones and hurricanes, leaving me to run the house on my own, worried about his safety and missing him desperately. 

I will no longer feel guilty about spending time and money on my fur friends. 

Valiente and Rachael enjoying each other's company in the pasture.

My new horse, Valiente, refers to me as his “Care Person”.  My puppy probably thinks of me the same way, but he’s too busy to have a focused conversation about it. He recently discovered lizards.

How can you put a price tag on a living, conscious being you love? 

You don’t have to; capitalism will do it for you. Do you want to pay thousands of dollars to fix your sweet dog's torn ligaments? Do you want to spend $7,000 or $9,000 or more on colic surgery for your 15-year-old gelding you paid $1500 for who is also mean as hell but definitely your horse soul mate?  You don’t want to, but you will, if you can.

I know how it feels to have to tell the vet no. No, I can’t. That beautiful palomino my husband bought me colicked terribly.  He was almost 4, I was 8 months pregnant when it happened.  The surgery was way more than we could afford. The prognosis for his survival, even if he had the procedure, wasn’t good, less than 50% according to the vet.  

It was entirely up to me.  With his head in my lap, I apologized to my friend.

“I am so, so sorry. I can’t do this for you.  We have a baby coming. We have no money.  We have lots of debt. I’m so sorry.”

I said goodbye to little Ebeneezer and I cried, the vet cried, the vet techs cried, my husband took the day off work to hold me.  

Horses are expensive. It is a privilege and, dare I say, a luxury, to have them in the 21st century. Would I go back and tell my 23-year-old self not to get that colt? To save my time and money and wait until I could afford to fully, in every way, provide for a horse? No. Because the joy and the love I had in the journey with that horse made me a better person.

“And now, I'm glad I didn't know

The way it all would end, the way it all would go

Our lives are better left to chance

I could've missed the pain

But I'd had to miss the dance.”

                                           -Garth Brooks

Fast forward about a decade or so to another horse and another call, “It’s bad.  We have him at the emergency clinic and they say he needs surgery.”

This time, I don’t have extra money lying around, but I have room on a credit card, so the answer is yes.  Do whatever you have to do to save him. The first miracle: he survived the surgery and the recovery.  The second miracle: it only cost $4000. (UGA teaching hospital) 

Pegaso Mor, he's about nine years old here, it will be another 4 years before he has surgery. He made a full recovery and continued to perform and go on lovely rides with me util he was 30 years old.

What am I trying to say here? 

Horses are expensive.  If you choose to have them, enter the relationship knowing that.

I now give myself permission to spend what I need to, what I can, and sometimes what I want to on my horse (and dog). It brings me joy to care for them.  In this phase of my life, I’m learning to enjoy the process. I am grateful I have enough money to pay for what they need. Instead of guilt, my new mantra is: Money is for Horses and Dogs. 

To clarify, because I know my husband will read this, the money is for the 1 horse and 1 dog we currently have, not to get more. 

The truth of the matter is the expense will never equal the reward, not for real horse people.  What matters more than money is the life we have with these magical creatures, what we learn from them and the connection they give us to something that is way bigger than us. 

Yes, horses are expensive.  But so is missing out on a beautiful life.