JACK

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People have sometimes asked me how I named my farm and, later, my nonprofit. Jack, my Clydesdale, was a very large reason, both in stature and in purpose.

When Jack came to me as an untrained 2-year-old, he already towered over all the other horses at 17 hands. Eventually to top out at well over 18—18.2 hands, to be exact—he was the poster boy for “gentle giant,” the embodiment of all most draft horses have been in my experience: massive, powerful, but so incredibly kind and gentle. A beautiful surprise in an enormous package.

You see, size was one reason Jack came into existence. He was one of the countless “pregnant mare urine” or PMU horses, just one of thousands and thousands of foals that were the by-products of an industry designed to produce estrogen-based hormone therapy replacement drugs for women. To get the urine they needed, researchers would impregnate mares at rapid-fire speed, one after the other, often right after birth. And their offspring—particularly the males—would end up at auction. Or in the slaughter pipeline, far too often.

Many PMUs were, like Jack, big draft crosses. Because bigger mares produce more urine. And big heartache for those of us who care about castaway horses.

I’ve always had a particular affinity for the heavy breeds of horse—the drafts, the big ones—so when I bought my farm up north over two decades ago and my old equine dentist said he wanted me to take Jack, I knew it was a perfect fit. It was always my dream to own a Clydesdale. A big, beautiful one just like Jack.

And so Jack came to live with us. And Dream Big Farm was anointed.

Fast forward to just over 4 years ago when my biggest dream came true and I was able to move Jack and his 17 equine brothers and sisters (along with 7 dogs and 4 cats) to my older sister and brother-in-law’s farm, a place they called Moseley Manor in a nod to its rich, amazing local history.

When my nonprofit animal sanctuary was finally formed a few years ago, after 30 years of informal animal rescue on my part and thanks almost wholly to Candace Fitch on the administrative end, it just made sense to call it Dream Big at Moseley Manor.

Because despite the profound heartache that sometimes visits us, this a true dream place for all of us misfits who have come to live here.

It is where Jack will now always rest.

Over just the past week, Jack declined at an astounding and horrifyingly fast rate, so much so that just yesterday I called the vet to schedule an appointment for a week from today to humanely usher him to his end. It was the soonest they could manage.

But Jack was not to make it through today. This morning, peacefully, he took his last breath. And I was there with him, as I was for 21 years. And he was with me, to his end. It was one of the most enduring and loving relationships I’ve ever had.

I already miss my Jack beyond any words I can express. But I’m so grateful he is no longer suffering. Like me, the vet thinks he had cancer. That insidious, awful, wasting disease that robs so many of us of so much.

So while Jack is now gone from the physical world. and I am again reeling, my big dream to continue helping animals in need will never die. In honor of Jack and all those who’ve gone before him at Dream Big, we’ll continue doing all we can to help horses like him. And all animals that are discarded, unwanted, and mistreated.

Rest easy, my big, sweet, kind boy. You made one very big dream come true for me. Until we meet again.