I recently had the good fortune to speak during the fund-a-need portion of the PHH Dancin' in the Dirt dinner, dance, and auction last weekend. Written improptu at 12 midnight, my thoughts were scattered but unscripted and the words come straight from my heart:

When I came to People Helping Horses, I had in mind that I would play a role in rescuing and rehabilitating horses in need. I had no idea the impact the experience would have on me - I soon discovered just how reciprocal this relationship of rescue would prove to be.

I grew up as most little girls do, with "a horse" holding the #1 slot on both my birthday and Christmas lists for seven years running. I began volunteering here at PHH three years ago and inevitably fell in love with and had my heart broken by two horses and their subsequent adoptions.

Shortly after tearfully seeing off the most recent horse to her wonderful new family, a new horse would literally stumble his way into the barn...and forever into my heart.

A tall, handsome Quarter horse gelding stood near the back of his stall and eyed me a bit warily. In too much pain and perhaps too proud, he maintained a careful distance and would continue to do over the next few months.

A barrel racer in Eastern Washington, he was ridden until his feet could no longer support him. He was then given to a family on Vashon Island, where he would spend the next 6 months without proper farrier care. Unable to lift his feet, the farrier ceased trimming them. A veterinarian diagnosed him with a neurological disorder and declared him a lost cause. The family made the difficult decision to put him down - but unable to do so themselves, they surrendered him to People Helping Horses.

When the trailer door swung open that day, no one was prepared to see such a towering horse take such slow and uncertain steps. A trainer there that day swore that he would never make it. And over the next year, I believe that thought would cross nearly everyone's minds.

In addition to abscesses, he had negative rotation of the bone in all 4 feet. The PHH vet however discovered no neurological disorder. In fact, probably his greatest impairment was his overwhelmingly stubborn pride. As I worked with him over this year of careful rehabilitation, I was inspired by his tremendous will to survive. Even on the days he was nearly crippled by the pain in his feet, he would still press forward and make his way to the soft dirt of the round pen. For each step forward he made, it seemed he'd have another misstep in his progress. My heart literally broke with him each time he faltered.

I remember one day in particular after the vet had come by and expressed concern over his prognosis. If the next shoeing program didn't help him, he would likely have to be put down. After Gretchen told me, I walked into another room and collapsed in tears. So much of my energy, my heart, had gone into willing this horse to survive. He had inspired and encouraged me - even on some of my own most difficult days - with his own courage. To lose him now felt like the loss of a part of myself that he had helped me to discover. I vowed to myself that if he made it, I wouldn't take a moment with him for granted.

He shouldn't be here today. Few thought he would ever be comfortable enough to have a single good day. But he's had a number of those since then. He's had his share of difficult ones too. On January 1, 2007, I officially adopted him and in doing so, fulfilled a lifelong dream. Having him in my life has given me an even greater sense of purpose and an endless source of inspiration. We've even claimed ribbons in showmanship - but most days I just enjoy being near him.

If not for Gretchen's dedication and vision through People Helping Horses, Tuff wouldn't be alive. And my life and heart would be that much more empty.