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August 04, 1983 - Saying Goodbye, to Dusty, the HorseSECOND SECTION Tbe. *Uf f ON Timeg August 4, 1983 Saying Goodbye, to Dusty, the Horse By PAULSTOUTENBURGH An era has passed in our family. Our old horse, Dusty, just died. Nothing lasts forever, but for some reason we all thought Dusty would always be out there in the pasture, head bowed, grazing. It all started 20 years ago when our son used to make me drive by a place on the Main Road where a brown and white pony was tied. An apple was always tossed to him as a sign of affection between boy and horse. As time went on horses filled the dreams of our son. We had no place to keep a horse. No pasture. No building. So the idea was quietly, but tactfully, set aside. This didn't last long, for when a piece of the backlot became available and we acquired it, we then had our pasture. I think my wife and I knew what was ahead. Then one cold and rainy November day we saw the horse tied outside in the rain. "In time he'll be brought in, so don't worry," we said, trying to console the young admirer. But all that night the rain came down and we knew someone was lying in bed listening. About dawn he was at our bedside asking, "Don't you think we'd better go see if the horse is still out ?" Who could refuse this request? So off we went -- and sure enough there was the horse still tied to his stake. No one was home. The owner was apparently away. What to do? We couldn't leave the horse there in the cold and rain. So we untied him and took him into a stall in the big barn. An old burlap bag helped dry him off and we came out feeling a lot better. From that moment on, Barbara and I knew the horse was to be ours. Some old - fashioned dickering took place later on, and we became the owners of our first horse. Next, the Saddle Friends brought us an old saddle that young hands scrubbed and polished until the leather looked like new. Even the bridle took on a new lustre as it was worked over. But where to keep the horse? "That's no problem," our son said as his enthusiasm took over. "I'll build a leanto." Of course, some of Dad's best lumber that was being saved for a picnic bench went into the leanto along with assorted nails, wire etc. To make it rustic, Peter cut a small cedar tree in the woods nearby and hauled it back with the horse to be cut and laid over the frame. The leanto made temporary headquarters for this new addition to the family, but something more permanent was needed. Up at the head of Indian Neck Lane was a grand old homestead that was deserted. One of the outbuildings would make a great stable, so we tracked down the owner and approached him to buy the building. The story that followed was beautiful. The man had lived in Brooklyn as a boy when horses were still common and now had moved out here in retirement. He was a man of considerable wealth and owned many properties about. After I had explained why I wanted the old building and what it was to be used for, Mr. S. explained, "When I was a boy, I, too, dreamed of horses and always wanted one but those were tougher times and my dreams were never fulfilled. Now if your boy wants that building for his horse, you can have it with my blessings." So early one foggy morning Barbara and I borrowed a flatbed trailer that was used to move bulldozers about and jacked the building up and with block and fall skidded it on the trailer. It sounds like a simple job but it took much planning and work before we actually had it rolling down the road. It was a joyous day when we slowly came crosslots in the fog with the old building headed for our place. Then the job was to get it off. It was a family undertaking, and with everyone's help it was moved into the woods where it stands today. A few shingles had to be put on the roof, the end cut out for a door for the horse and a stall built. We were in business. Next the fence, and bit by bit we became horse - oriented people. Free to Ride the Roads From then on, it was riding the farm roads and the joy of owning a horse. Cloud 9 was where our boys rode. How different it was then when the area was open roads and yours to enjoy. Today there are houses where they once rode and fences all about. They lost the freedom of the country — the price we all pay for progress. Dusty was a horse who never gave us any trouble except once when we put a young filly in with him and he became frisky. Round and round they galloped together, Dusty showing his heels and jumping about. In one of those bursts of new -found youth he ran into a fence and drove a huge splinter into his front thigh, but good ole Dr. Andresen came to the rescue and pulled it out. Of course, Dusty would take advantage of any time we'd forget to shut the gate. He'd get out and into the back of the barn, lift the lid off the feed barrel with his nose and help himself to an extra ration. He was never shod, for he never went on the paved road. The backfields and beaches were his highways. Of course there was always that occasion in the spring time he'd go up the -lane through the fields to visit some young filly! Once the farmer up the road gave the children his sheep. It had been unhappy there alone and "baaed" all the time. When it came time to bring it home the kids all went up to get it. We have a picture of them pulling the sheep home "baaing" away as he was led through the fields. From that day on the horse and sheep were always together. We never had. to tie the sheep, for it wouldn't leave Dusty's side. The problem came when one of the kids wanted to ride the horse. The sheep wanted to go, too. We'd put it in the barn and close the door, but all the time the horse was away you could hear the sheep "baa" mournfully inside. As soon as Dusty returned, they were content and would graze together again. If Dusty got out by himself and left, the sheep would come to the patio and "baa" loudly to let us know so we'd go after him. A Memorable Night I'll always remember one winter night after about a six -inch snowfall, our DUSTY - -This photo taken in 1963 shows Dusty already on in years when he first joined our family. Photo by Raul Stoutenburgh family decided to go for a moonlight walk because it was so beautiful out. We were all bundled up headed out when a couple of my students from school stopped by. Peter headed for the barn as we started on through the sparkling fields of snow. In no time he came charging out on Dusty, snow flying and the joy of youth riding high. It was a rare experience with the six of us walking through the moonlit snow and the horse and rider circling about. During the winter, water always had to be carried out after the hose that led to the barn had frozen up. I can still see Dusty on those cold winter days waiting for his ration of feed and hay with his brown coat often covered with snow. As time went on and the kids grew up, Dusty became more and more a part of the place. We looked for him when we arrived at home or when we got up in the morning. If we came home in the dark, a visit to the barn and a few taps on his dinner pail would bring him trotting in. Today when we saw him walking toward the barn, his pace was slow, but then he didn't move too fast in these last years. He disliked flies and when they were out, he'd head for the barn where there were fewer of them and it was cooler. The End It just so happened that Barbara and I took a walk this evening and when we headed back down around by the pond we heard something thrashing in the bushes. The dog investigated and as I approached I had a feeling I knew what it was. Dusty was down. He was dying. We felt fortunate that we had happened by.' We both bent over and patted him gently and talked to him. His front feet tried to gain ground -- perhaps climbing to a new and better pasture. Soon there was quiet. The dog sniffed and turned away. Dusty had died. An era had passed. We walked silently home hand in hand. We'll all miss Dusty.