My name’s Apollo, and if you’re reading this, it means I’ve traded my hooves for wings. Don’t be too sad — I had a big, full life, and I was loved right up to my very last breath.
 

I’m not your average horse! I’m a Percheron, tall and proud, a real “sky bison,” as my people liked to say. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I think I started off hauling logs for the Amish. It was hard work, but I loved being in the deep woods with the trees, the quiet, and the smell of the earth.

 

Time passed, and I grew older. My logging days were behind me, and a kind friend took me in. She gave me a peaceful home and took such good care of me for many years. As I aged, I needed more attention and some big friends of my own. She loved me enough to know I needed a herd and a place that could keep up with my extra needs, so she made the hard, loving choice to find me a new home.
 

That’s where my ranch family comes in. They welcomed me with open arms and gave me a whole crew of big buddies to play and nap with. I met my best pal, Charlie. ♥︎ We loved to graze and do our synchronized old-man naps out in the pasture together.
 

My appetite? Legendary. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, second breakfast… I never turned down a meal. Since I was getting up there in age, they made sure I had all the porridges and goodies I needed to stay strong. They kept a close eye on my hooves too, because I’d had my fair share of abscess troubles. Every bit of extra care was their way of saying, “We’ve got you, big guy.”
 

In my golden years, I found a new purpose! Carrying folks along the trails. It was a gentler kind of work, and I loved it. There’s a special peace in the slow rhythm of a trail ride.. the sound of hooves and the quiet voices of the people on my back. Many of them were nervous, or brand new to horses, or coming back after a long time away. I could feel their hearts. So I walked steady, breathed slow, and let them borrow my strength. They say I made them feel safe and tall, like they were riding on a cloud. That made me very proud.
 

I gave everything I could, right up to the end. But something went wrong in my belly that my family couldn’t fix with medicine or love. They knew that keeping me here would mean more pain for me, and that’s not what any of us wanted.  So they did the kindest thing they could do for an old horse they loved. 

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Now, I run on fields that never run out of grass, with legs that don’t ache and hooves that never throb. I still check in on the ranch, on the trails, and on all the people who ever sat on my back and trusted me. When a rider takes a deep breath and suddenly feels a little braver, that might be me walking beside them for a moment.
 

Thank you for feeding me, brushing me, trusting my strength from my back. I’m still with you, just riding a little higher now. 🐴🕊️

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Rest in Peace Apollo