R.I.P. Hadarah: March 9, 1985-December 6, 2014



Hadarah at 30 years

I lost my best friend this morning. How do you even begin to say good-bye to someone who’s always been there for you? Someone who’s been with you for nearly half of your life? I’m trying to find out. As Sam says, you outlive them all but the last one. It’s so hard when you can see the light slowly fading away, even when you know there is no suffering. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I knew the day was not far off when I had to say good bye, and today was the day. I hoped to make that as gentle as possible for her, and she was ready. She apparently had a massive stroke just before suppertime last night, and I gave her my last hugs. She went in her sleep, resting in her stall. We should all hope to meet as kind an end. I will remember her often, and the memories are all good. I can honestly say I don’t have any bad memories of her. Her name meant "beautiful jewel" or "ornament," and that's just what she was.  

Hadarah at six months

I first met Hadarah when she was a two-day-old foal, in the stall with her mother Shaamin, peeking out between the boards at the strange creatures who had gathered just outside. She was so small then, a little black filly with a star on her forehead and a few grey hairs dotting her muzzle. We all knew she would be grey anyway, because both of her parents were, but I didn’t care about that. We looked at each other that day in the barn and bonded. I knew somehow, some way, I had to have this horse.

There was no way I could buy her then. We lived in an apartment 25 miles away in North Seattle, and besides, I didn’t have money to buy a horse. The only reason I was even there was because we had been invited to visit friends from a new church and see their horses. They were Arabians, too, the breed of horse I had wanted to own since I was a kid. Life has a way of working things out, though. I don’t understand why sometimes things work out and other times they don’t, but this time they did. I kept in touch with our new friends, and we accompanied them to a couple of Arabian shows at the Tacoma Unit #2 in Spanaway, Washington. The horses were amazing, and I was hooked. Believe me, horses are not difficult to fall in love with, and Arabians are no exception.

I didn't especially care for Arabian shows, however, especially all the politics that goes with winning. If you have to have the “right” trainer, or saddle, or whatever is in fashion this year in order to win, you can leave me out. I have never been interested in playing those games. I’d rather spend my money and time on my horse and becoming a better rider, thank you. As a result, I never attended another Arabian show, even though we’ve owned them for going on 30 years.  

About six months later, I got a phone call from my friend with the filly, asking if I would be interested in buying her. Would I? Are there craters on the moon? We had since moved to a small acreage not far away with a small horse barn, so I at least had a place to keep a horse, but still, money was pretty tight. I told my friend that I didn’t know what I could do about the filly, but she said not to worry. She "knew" I was supposed to have this horse, and it was not working out for the friend to whom she had previously sold her. She had to take the filly back, so if I wanted her, she would bring her over if I could help.

Nedjme

To make a very long story short, Hadarah became my horse. I had no idea how special she was, but a little pedigree research gave me a clue. Her tail female line goes back to Nedjme, the first horse listed in the American Arabian Horse Registry Association. Nedjme was one of the horses brought by the Hamidie Society of Syria to perform at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893, and arguably the best of the lot. Hadarah looks exactly like her now. She also
goes back to Raffles on her dam Shaamin’s side, one of the best Arabians brought to this country from Lady Wentworth’s Crabbet stud in England. On her sire’s side, she is descended from the very best Polish breeding through her grand sire +Pentagon, as well as from the very

+Pentagon

athletic horses the Hearsts imported from Syria. One little known fact of note is that she descends from Rudolf Valentino’s stallion Jadaan, who can be seen in his movies The Sheik and Son of the Sheik. Because so many of the Kellogg horses were used in the movies, she is related to many of them.

Rudolf Valentino on Jadaan

Hadarah and Dianne

But to me, Hadarah has mostly and primarily been my best friend. I've spent many happy hours riding and just being in her company through the past almost 30 years. We had lots of riding lessons and riding on the trails around Kent, Washington, where we lived then. She’s always been her sweet, generous, kind, and very intelligent self, and in the end, she taught me most of what I know about horses. My nickname for her was "Cissie," because when our other mares foaled with her half-sisters, she always wanted to steal them away and keep them for herself. One of the few regrets I do have is that I never allowed her to be a mother. She would have been wonderful at it. She always had a happy whinny for me as soon as she heard my voice, and the only time I ever fell off her, it was my own fault. We had so much fun riding the trails—she was an incurable snoop and couldn’t wait to see what was around the next corner. And there’s been the kind of trust and respect between us that one rarely hopes to find in any relationship, whether it be with another human or an animal. I have always been able to depend on her, and I hope she can say the same of me.

Once, when we were riding the Lake Young's trail along 224th St. in Kent, she was being kind of fractious going up the hill, and I wondered, "What the heck's going on?" That had rarely ever happened, and to her credit, she climbed the hill when I insisted, even though she obviously was anxious about it. When we got to the top, I could see someone had pitched a black plastic bag full of garbage underneath the bushes where the trail turned to head away from the road into the woods--and then the bag moved and a possum crawled out! I was so surprised I just started laughing--it was the first time I had seen a live possum, and Hadarah relaxed immediately. We continued on around the corner on the trail and kept on going, with no further problem that day. She always trusted my judgment.

My aim for the past couple of years has mostly been to keep her healthy and happy with her life. She’s required a special diet, due to the loss of dentition, and that’s at times strained the pocketbook, but it’s my responsibility to keep her fed with food she can eat and enjoy as long as she’s able. I think the veterinarians would be happy with what I’ve done. Aside from that, she was not demanding, and I was able to bring her with me to Northeastern Oregon when we retired this year. She was fed in her own stall, so she wasn’t disturbed and I always put her in it at night. She wore a blanket if the weather warranted it. The rest of the time, she mostly roamed our acreage as she wished, usually in the company of Laddie, my new riding horse, who is a Friesian-cross gelding. Hadarah thought he was the bomb! She even got a little flirting in this past summer.

Here is a poem I wrote about her a few years ago:

 

                                                                 HADARAH

I see through your eyes grey pony,
Little Arab mare, twenty-one winters gone.
You feel the year turning,
The Wheel of Life moving onward.
Deep inside, you know
Winter's coming.

Never any blame
For things I've left undone, and
Always a glad whinny when I come,
Asking for a treat
   (No thought of my owing
    Or your deserving).
You never wonder
What tomorrow may bring.

You are the soul of patience,
Acceptance, understanding, and trust,
And I'm blessed.
You've taught me so much more
Than ever I taught you.
I gave lessons in collection,
But you taught me balance.

In the meantime, I tried to give her the best day she could have every day, and her last day was a happy one, just being a horse, up on the hill with Laddie. I can still hear the last whinny she gave me when I came out the back door yesterday afternoon, telling me she thought it was time for her snack. I regret the days when I could have spent more time with her and I didn’t, but those are the only real regrets I have. I will miss her more than I can imagine now that she’s not there to greet me every morning. Those people who say that animals have no souls or that their souls die when they do, don’t know a thing. If they do, so do we! Now you're free to gallop across the fields of Glory with Shaamin and Waaj, Shaheeda and California, and I’ll be listening for your whinny when I get to Heaven, Doll Babe! I’ll be looking for you! I will never, ever forget you.
 

Hadarah and Dianne