“What a beautiful mess, what a beautiful mess I’m in… spending all my time with you, there’s nothin’ else I’d rather do. What a sweet addiction that I’m caught up in…’cause I can’t get enough…”

I’m just a mess sometimes. Sensitive, easily prone to tears by things that might register to another on the emotional Richter scale at no more than a “Oh, that’s touching,” you can just about knock me over with a well told emotional story. And it doesn’t have to be gut-wrenching, tragic or devastating – I am as easily moved and brought to near-weeping by a moment of generous compassion or simple joy.

The passage of time has only sharpened this facet of my persona. And so here I am, several years and three rescued animals later, and occasionally and discreetly still searching on the side for stories of second chances and opportunities to do more, to help more, to save another one. Don’t misunderstand me - my home is full. One sensitive, goofy and anxious coonhound and a cat who regularly scales a floor-to-ceiling wooden beam in the middle of my living room – not to mention one rather proud and stubborn Quarter Horse who has so completely stolen my heart that I catch myself associating happy song lyrics with him on a regular basis…yes, I am at capacity when it comes to rescued animals. No vacancy. No can do. I mean it.

There’s something beautiful…and yes, even messy…about loving a rescued animal. The things they teach you about yourself. The emotions they bring out. The self-sacrifice you didn’t think you were capable of. The way they teach you to love. The way they teach you to forgive. The way they don’t need you to be perfect or right, or without flaws…they just need you to be, to have someone they can trust.

I never have an interaction with my horse, Tuff, without experiencing some sort of emotion (even if that emotion is frustration). The other day I walked out into the pasture, grooming supplies in hand and a widespread grin on my face. He looked beautiful and at peace, grazing with his pasture mates. In a perfect world, his head would have snapped up and he would have broken into a gentle lope, coming straight towards me with unreserved delight. But this isn’t a perfect world and he doesn’t always act as my dreams play out, so although his head snapped up and he registered my presence, it just as quickly dropped back down to the lush green grass which was far more compelling than my arrival. I tried to groom him and did so only somewhat successfully - every 30 seconds his skin would twitch and he’d walk away half a dozen steps and drop his head down to graze again. Only mildly exasperated, I turned to Bo, who watched me with a curious intensity from a few steps away. I noted the wind twists in his mane and thought I’d try to untangle the mess if he would let me. What a difference. He stood perfectly still, head held high but relaxed and let me weave my fingers gingerly through his mane for a good 15 minutes. His trust and quiet acceptance melted my heart. I turned to Tuff, whose rear end was facing me and I feigned an indifferent shrug. “I love you,” I whispered to Bo loudly enough for Tuff to hear me and then I sauntered away. After a minute, I turned around to see that Tuff was suddenly alert and watching my every move as I left the pasture. A grin broke out on my face once again and I enthusiastically called out “Bye, Tuffy, your mom loves you!!!” What a pushover.

Yes, I’m a mess. I’ve cried my heart out over that horse on hard days. And I’ve also experienced pure and unadulterated joy just being in his presence…or the times he makes me laugh unexpectedly with his playfulness…the side of him that I feel sometimes is reserved just for me. It really is a beautiful mess. I’d take the ups and downs and all the emotion that goes with it any day…the love I get in return, the way my life has been enriched and the capacity to which my heart has grown is worth it all.