Marshall · 5 min read
Caring for a Senior Horse You've Loved Since Infancy
The part nobody posts about: keeping an old friend comfortable, and taking the long view of a life you've been lucky to witness in full.
I got Marshall when he was two months old, which means there is no part of his life I didn't witness. I watched him learn to be led, learn to be ridden, learn to stand for the farrier. Now I'm watching him learn to be old, and it turns out that's its own kind of education — mostly mine.
Twenty-one is not a crisis. I want to say that clearly, because so much of what gets written about senior horses reads like a countdown. Marshall is sound, bright-eyed, and opinionated about his breakfast. But twenty-one is a different job than eleven was, and nobody handed me a manual for the transition. Here's what I've actually changed.
I stopped trusting "he seems fine"
A horse you've had since infancy is easy to read wrong, because you're reading him against a lifetime of him, not against what's normal for a 21-year-old gelding. I started taking a tape weight and a body-condition note every month, not because I doubted my eyes, but because slow change is invisible to eyes and obvious on paper. It caught a few pounds of loss last winter that I would have otherwise explained away as "he's just fuzzy."
The maintenance got specific
Joint support, a closer look at his teeth twice a year instead of once, a farrier conversation that's now about comfort as much as correctness. None of it is dramatic. All of it is a line item I didn't used to think about, and now I write down — because the record of what I changed and when is the only way I'll know if it's working.
I started asking different questions at the vet
Not "is anything wrong" but "what does aging well look like for him, specifically, at this weight, in this climate, doing this much work." The answers have made me a better owner to him. They've also made me realize how much of senior care is just paying closer attention on a schedule, instead of waiting for something to announce itself.
A horse you've loved since he was two months old is a record you've been keeping without realizing it. Being his vet, his farrier, and his memory all at once is the job now — and I'm glad to have it.
The long view
Here's the thing about Harvey that I didn't expect: watching Marshall get old made me more careful with Harvey from day one, not less. I don't want another horse who starts his record at year fifteen. I want the whole book, this time, from the first page — because I know now, watching Marshall, exactly what it's worth to have it.
I don't know how many more birthdays Marshall gets. Nobody does, with any horse, at any age. What I do know is that I've written down enough of his life that whoever cares for him — including some future version of me who's forgotten details I'm certain of today — will have the truth of him instead of a guess.
— Morgan
Keep reading
The Horse Who Came With a Blank Page
The Records Every Horse Owner Should Keep (and Why)