Remembering Bella, my first horse, and the invaluable life lessons she imparted. A heartfelt tribute to the mare who opened the door to a lifelong journey with horses.
There is something about your first horse that never leaves you.
They teach you how to ride, how to care, how to worry… and eventually, how to say goodbye.
A year ago today I said goodbye to Bella, my very first horse.
Oh, how I miss that mare. She taught me so much about horses—and about life.
Bella was a Fjord horse, and she had many classic Fjord qualities: calm, sensible, steady. But in other ways she wasn’t like a Fjord at all. She was lean and sometimes a hard keeper. She was forward, could really motor along, and she could jump too.
She was all of these things and more. She was the perfect first horse.
And like many first horses, Bella didn’t just teach me how to ride — she quietly opened the door to an entire world of horses, friendships, and experiences that continue to shape my life today.
Bella gave countless kids pony rides (most of which ended well!). Madi completed a few rider levels on her. We took Bella to horse camp. She carried me through Hobby Horse trails and led us on countless trail rides.
In those early years Bella also introduced me to some of the best people in the horse world—other Fjord owners, coaches, trainers, and horse friends who helped guide us along the journey. You know who you are, and I’m so grateful for the knowledge, encouragement, and friendship you shared along the way.
We did all the wonderful things you hope to do with your equine partner.
Bella even joined me for my first horse-in-the-lake adventure. We didn’t quite swim, but we certainly splashed around and cooled off together on a warm day.
One of my favourite memories is how much she loved pink peppermints. She would suck on them slowly, almost falling into a little trance as she savoured the flavour.
In her later years Bella developed several health challenges—heaves, Cushing’s, and laminitis. For many years it didn’t matter what the illness was; we simply signed up for the care.
In the early days she taught me how to soak a hoof and wrap a proper bandage for an abscess. By the end, Bella would calmly pick up her hoof and place it in the bucket herself. She was such a good patient.
When the heaves first appeared we tried a puffer to help her breathing. Cushing’s brought its own challenges, including a loss of appetite—practically unheard of in Fjords—so we worked hard to keep her eating. One fall her feet were so sore she wore Cavallo boots during the day for relief. By evening, they would be full of mud and needed cleaning and maintenance.
Eventually, she had bar shoes with pads and extra support, which helped her comfortably for several more years. Somewhere along the way we added a daily dose of Previcox to keep her comfortable.
By the winter of last year I started to wonder if we were doing too much to keep Bella here with us—and whether it was more for us than for her. I worried about the day she might go down and not be able to get back up.
I remembered the heartbreaking article that circulates among horse owners: “Say goodbye on a good day.”
I knew it was time to talk to our vet.
Dr. Damita Hansen was incredible throughout the entire process. She walked me through what to expect and prepared me gently for the day ahead. We chose a date, told our barn family and a few close friends, and cherished our last days together.
Bella was in the middle of a laminitic flare and walking was painful, so we spent our time quietly in her paddock. That weekend we shared some lovely moments together. At one point she even fell asleep with her head resting in my lap.
Bella remained the head of her herd until the very end. She was always the first to head in for supper, and in her senior years, she did it without a halter or lead line—simply sauntering into her stall like she owned the place.
On the day we chose to say goodbye we put her pasture mates in the barn before leading her out to the back field. It felt almost as though she knew. She calmly watched as we led her friends away, then waited quietly for her own walk to the field.
Dr. Hansen was exactly what we needed that day. We found a quiet spot in the back of the field to say our goodbyes, and everything went as planned. What surprised me most was the peace I felt in that moment. I realized that making the decision had been harder than being with her as she took her last breath.
I am so thankful for the support of fellow horse friends. One offered to stay with us until the very end. Others captured photos of Bella and me during those last days—completely spontaneous, no posing, no asking her to do more than she could. Another friend made a beautiful book of photos for us.
I was also touched by the thoughtful keepsakes people shared—a framed photo, a Christmas ornament to remember Bella by, flowers, and countless messages of support. I am truly grateful for all of the kindness shown during such a difficult time.
The messages, the support, and the willingness to listen as we worked through the decision meant everything.
Fellow horse owners understand. When the time comes to say goodbye to your beloved equine partner, don’t hesitate to lean on that community.
This fall I had a moment that felt particularly special. I was visiting Sable Island, soaking in the landscape, when I suddenly realized a horse had wandered quite close to me. On Sable Island the rule is that you stay at least twenty meters away from the horses.
I hadn’t seen this mare approaching. She stood quietly nearby, and she looked a little like Bella (even though there are no Fjords on Sable Island). I snapped a photo and we stood there for a while, just looking at each other.
It was a warm, beautiful afternoon on Sable, and I remember thinking, what a lucky horse—running free in the wild.
Then I thought about Bella.
And in that moment it felt like a message: that she was free now too—free of pain and running wild somewhere.
Later I sent the photo to my daughter without saying anything about my thoughts. Her reply was simple: “She kind of reminds me of Bella.”
So I’m choosing to take that as my sign.
Bella runs free.
It took me a year to write this post, but I think about her all the time. There is something incredibly special about your first horse.
I’ve dedicated the SIM studio to Bella and her photo hangs on the wall. In many ways I think I ended up with the simulator because of her. Bella taught me what good horses give to riders—patience, confidence, and partnership—and the simulator helps riders build those same skills.
She was the beginning of it all.
Thanks for reading.
And today, give your equine partner a little extra love.
You never know how many days you’ll have. 🐎
