Another story of love shared with a horse. Thanks to Cheryl Cunningham

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I had a horse named Dusty (Lynrock Dust Too). He died last November at the age of 24. Dusty was bought for me by my Dad from Terry Jarrett from Bashaw/Ponoka, Alberta. I was not quite 14 and had just started team roping, using my brother’s horse. Dad came home from the sale at Terry’s and told me he had bought a little gelding for me to start. Once I brought Dusty home, all the other horses paled in comparison. Dusty was a grandson of Leo Bar. He had was only 15hh, but there wasn’t a steer he couldn’t outrun, turn or hold. He had so much heart.

Every day growing up after that, I rode him, no matter what the weather. I would jump on his back in the pasture (in the hills), and ride him back with nothing on him. If I wanted him to stop I just leaned down and touched his head and he would stop. To turn him, I just put a bit of pressure on the side of his neck up by his head. Dusty was the horse that everyone knew.

I grew up, got married and had a family. Dusty was retired at this point to just trail riding. My daughter, Brooke, is 10 now and she rode him in the little corral with a halter, but never out in the open. Once he was saddled, he knew we were on the go, so the quietest rides were bareback with halter.

I pulled the kids in their sleds many days with Dusty. As they grew up, he was the only horse I would put them on with me. I knew no matter what surprise or event came upon us, Dusty would remain calm, and never hurt anyone.

The summer of 2006, we went trail riding at Em-Tee Town, Alberta. I was going to take my young mare, but something told me that I needed to take Dusty. I was worried about his age and whether he could handle the rides, but I took him, knowing he is as determined as any to hold himself up to any challenge.

The kids tent blew away while at Em-Tee town. We found it near the trees, blown over. I rode dusty up, bareback, grabbed the flapping tent, and rode him back to the cabin with the tent flapping and slapping him all over. He just acted like he was just doing his job.

We rode up and down hills, through water (which he loved), and Dusty was in the lead the whole time. Never prancy, just determined to get there first. The last day, I was checking my saddle and noticed I needed a repair so couldn’t use it. It was as though everything came together for me to ensure I had one last trail ride on bareback, just like the good ol’ days when we were younger. We were in heaven together. Dusty walked out like he was a young horse again! It was a memory I will not soon forget.

In November of 2006, Dusty passed away. On November 16, I took him for a little ride, and brought him back to the pasture. He was still so lively. The next morning I looked out and saw Dusty laying in the shed. I knew something was up, because he didn’t get up when he heard me call him. I got him up, walked him, and decided to get him to the vet. At the vet, I was told to see how he handles the night with pain killers. The next day he was no better, so vet came out and told me he was going downhill. We were very certain he wasn’t colicking because of his vitals, and that the pain was up in his chest. The only thing to do was let him go.

I said my goodbyes, and went into the house to hide. My husband and vet put him down and I literally felt my heart crush and cramp at approximate time he was being put down.

Dusty was one in a million, and it will be a long time before another horse with take his place.

Thanks for letting me tell my story. I could have filled pages with events, but I know it needs to be brief. Dusty is the horse of my dreams, even though he is gone. Cheryl Cunnningham

My daughter Brooke wrote this in her 4H speech this last February:

“It all started when I was 6 months old, on my mom’s horse named Dusty. I rode in the saddle in front with my mom. That didn’t last long because at 8 months old, I moved to the wagon. Dusty would pull the wagon down the bumpy gravel road to my grandparent’s house. I sang songs the whole way there. I would have loved to learn to ride him, but he was too fast for me to ride. Sadly this past November Dusty died. We were very sad and we still miss him a lot.”

Her speech ends with this:
“When I am sad I know Dusty is in heaven looking down on me helping me sit tall in the saddle, telling me everything will be the way it should be, and to just keep on riding.”

By Brooke Cunningham
Age 10 years