United States Eventing Association

From the Beginning, He Made Us Smile

He arrived at Kingsway Farm on a typical California day that should have been completely forgettable, precisely because of its lack of originality: Sunny. Warm. No chance of showers.

His name was Cooper. He was gray, long-legged, and full of beans after being confined for hours on a plane that brought him west from Kelli Temple‘s farm in Virginia. I was hacking around the farm with my trainer, Erin Kellerhouse, and we wandered over to get a better look at Jennie Brannigan’s new horse.

Jennie was standing in the middle of the pasture with her back to us, watching her new acquisition trot along the fenceline as he bellowed introductions to the other Kingsway horses.

Jennie turned around as we approached, and flashed the biggest smile I think I‘ve ever seen.

As anyone who has ever loved a horse knows, heartbreak can often be a misstep away. Jennie herself said as much in her touching blog entries detailing Cooper’s struggle to recover from first a leg injury, then colic surgery and subsequent infection, and, ultimately, laminitis. In the end, Jennie made a decision that would be courageous for someone much older than 22, which Jennie is.

I first met Jennie in the spring of 2003. She had just arrived in California to work for Natalie Rooney-Pitts at Kingsway. I had two horses in training with Natalie, and she asked if I’d mind if Jennie rode them. Being new to eventing, I fretted about this. Could a soon-to-be 16-year-old handle my capricious thoroughbreds?

You can only be that stupid once, an old jockey once told me. After watching Jennie ride not only my horses but others, including Natalie’s advanced horse, Aladdin, I realized I was not simply watching a talented kid. I was watching a talented kid who, with luck and the right horse, could be one of the great ones. For not only was she blessed with natural ability. Self-possessed and mature beyond her years, it would have been easy for Jennie to become an arrogant brat, the likes of which are not uncommon in horse sports. Instead, Jennie dove happily into every task Natalie threw her way, and quickly became an invaluable member of the team.

If you’ve ever met Jennie - and most of you have, or will - you know what a kick she is to be around. Jennie had brought her prelim horse, a gentle giant named Reality Check, to California with her, and the two instantly became a nonstop source of entertainment. “Henry” was stabled next to Clyde, a laid-back quarter horse, and even on the coldest, windiest days the two could be found with their chins resting on their stall doors, eyelids fluttering and lower lips drooping. Jennie gave them both slacker personas, and had us in stitches recounting imaginary conversations between the two.

When Henry died after a severe bout of colic, Jennie put up a brave front. Months later, we were out on a trail ride, chattering away, when she suddenly mentioned Henry. “Remember the Santa hat picture?“ she asked (the previous Christmas I had given her a photo of Henry wearing a Santa hat).

She shook her head, and took a hard swipe at her eyes. I glanced over and saw that tears were streaming down her face. “I just wish,” she said, her voice breaking, “that I could see him one more time.”

After Henry came Kozmo, an oft-injured but dazzling thoroughbred who took Jennie up to advanced. Knowing that Kozmo’s competing days were numbered, Jennie began looking for a young prospect to bring along. She found one in Cooper, and the partnership they forged was magical: Nineteen victories. Individual and team gold at the 2008 NAJRC. USEA Intermediate Gold Cup Champion in 2008 and reserve champion in 2009.

And it was just beginning.

Losing a horse is always hard. Losing one tragically is almost unbearable. Jennie has learned this hard lesson twice. I know she will be able to get past this, and I have faith that one day I’ll see her smile like she did that day back in the summer of 2006. Until then, I’ll take comfort in a little trick I learned from Jennie. I imagine the first conversation between Cooper and his new friend, Henry, will go something like this: “Yo, stoner…I’m Cooper, and I hear we both know the greatest girl…”