Shell-shocked Rambo, my hero

Well, he's 20 today, and he seems to be recovering from a couple of days of being shell-shocked. He's blind, so he couldn't even watch the colorful aerial displays that kept him trotting around in small circles with his buddy Casey for the past two nights.

I'm speaking of Rambo, my handsome bay Arabian-Quarterhorse gelding. I still remember distinctly the night he was born after the Fourth of July in 1985. We knew Mrs. Black was about to give birth, and it's possible the Fourth of July firecrackers helped her along that year. It was about 2 a.m. the Fifth of July when the big, gangly colt greeted the world in our barnyard. After struggling to rise up to all fours, he proceeded to get high-centered over a feeder nearby.

Rambo eventually got over his awkward methods of travel. My sister Barbara took over his training when he turned 3. For the next few years, we entered him in local and regional horse shows, where he consistently impressed the judges with his handsome sleek solid-bay body and smooth but powerful motion in elegant classes like show hack and hunter pleasure. He was set to go to the U.S. National Arabian Show when he was about 7, but his barnyard buddy Beau got frisky one day and kicked him in the forearm.

That hairline fracture put him in a recovery box stall where he spent the next six weeks. He was not a good patient either; it got increasingly more difficult to walk into the stall with the nippy, irascible big boy who just wanted OUT. Rambo never competed in Arabian shows after that, but he did wow the locals whenever my sisters would get him all duded up with braided mane and tail. In their top hats and tails, they'd spin him around the ring at the judge's discretion, and he'd usually take home the trophies.

I eventually retired him because I ran out of money and couldn't afford to pay all those entry fees. Rambo became a much-loved pasture horse. Eventually, he went blind in one eye because of a disease called Uveitis. One year he contracted another strange, unexplained disease which meant he had to spend five days in a Spokane equine hospital. During that time, the vets came up with all sorts of incurable possibilities, and I cried a lot. They eventually found the culprit which was an abscess in an internal area; it eventually cured itself.

Two years ago, Rambo lost most of the sight in his other eye because of an attack of relentless, vicious gnats who caused him to shake his head with such fury that he displaced his lens. This was when I learned that Rambo was my true hero. Never have I seen a horse or even a person adjust so intelligently and so miraculously to a disability. Yes, he ran into a fence or two, and even the barn occasionally, but because of his inate common sense, he figured it all out.

Now, it's very difficult to tell that Rambo is blind except for when you're up close and personal with him and see that his eyes are not nearly as pretty as they used to be. That has not detracted from my admiration for the true spirit of this big friend of mine. His beauty comes from within as well as from what the eye can see.

I felt bad for him during the past couple of days as the loud booms pierced the air from all around and continued for several hours each night, but like every thing else Rambo has ever overcome, he's figured out that reacting calmly beats racing around frantically.

My hero is doing just fine on this day of noting his 20th year of existence. I'll head directly from this blog outside to give him a great big birthday hug.