My Sister's Best Friend

[mrdreamjeans]

This morning I made a special pilgrimage. In my sister's back pasture behind her home near Austin, just to the right of a solitary Cottonwood tree, is the grave of my sister's best friend.... a loyal and loving presence in my family's life for over thirty years. As I walked through the grass to the grave site, I let my thoughts drift back in time to when this dear friend became part of our lives.

Cala Penna, or "Socks" as we called her, was born on a ranch in Chugwater, Wyoming. She was a half-Arabian, Thoroughbred/Quarter horse mix with beautiful conformation and gentle disposition. Socks was over 15 hands tall and nimble. As a youngster, she had been raced; when she entered our lives, she was five years of age and in use on a working ranch.

Sister was 15, horse-mad instead of boy-crazy, a tomboy with strong hints of the beautiful vibrant woman she's become. Colleen, my parents, my brother Jeff and I were on vacation in Wyoming. The trip was envisioned as a brief exposure to the romance of the old West and then a return to our suburban reality in Houston.

This trip changed our lives. Before it was over, we were proud owners of a shining mahogany-colored mare (with a distinctive white star between her intelligent chocolate brown eyes and four evenly-matched white socks), a single horse trailer and 1900 miles of memories as novice owners. The return to Texas was quite an educational adventure.

My parents' impetuous decision gave my sister a friendship which endured through her high school and college years (Socks was with us at Texas A&M), one failed marriage and one lasting one; the birth of a handicapped son and the the birth of a normal, healthy daughter. Socks was a constant when Colleen was on shifting ground.

For decades, Socks served as a loyal, non-judgmental and loving companion for Colleen. With our family in tow, Sis entered Socks in competitions of all sorts: Halter classes, barrel-racing, trail-riding, Western and English Pleasure and Hunt Seat... winning fistfuls of ribbons and trophies. They were a team; Socks was mentor, pet, pal...a great listener and a font of unconditional love.

Well into her dotage, Socks could be trusted with young children on her back. She also continued as a source of comfort for Sister; when times were particularly tough, Colleen could always head to Socks, wrap her arms around her neck and cry her eyes out; Socks would patiently wait for the tears to end; Sis never doubted that Socks understood her need.

Our beloved Socks died in 2000 in the terrible triple-digit heat of that summer. She was 36 years old. I believe Colleen and Socks' rare bond added to the amazing length of Socks' life and the quality of my sister's.

My sister was traveling in Europe when Socks passed away; the terrible job of breaking the news to Sis and burying Socks during the 105 degree heat fell to my brother-in-law. Wayne handled the situation with unusual sensitivity and grace, understanding that it was a time of great loss and intense grief for his wife and our family.

Four years later, I stood in the shade of the Cottonwood tree, our remaining trio of aging horses grazing around me. A gentle breeze played with the sleeves of my shirt, as the memories of one very special horse tugged at my heart. I offered a silent prayer of thanks for the legacy of heart gifts that Socks left us, tipped my hat in tribute to our beloved mare and quietly walked back to the house.

Today is my sister's birthday. Colleen, I'm celebrating you today by remembering your best friend.