I just watched Netflix's "Love, Death, and Robots," and an episode in that series called "Lucky 13."
MIND. BLOWN. Because there are parallels to a great girl wearing 13 in my life and it just feels beyond coincidence at this point.
First of all I will say it's a kickass show, I was skeptical at first but quickly realized it's an incredible ride, fresh and original, and full of twists. If you love a little sci-fi/action/nudity (who doesn't)/short stories, do check it out and enjoy. But on to the point of this post...and yes, there's a tie to that Netflix episode.
Tomorrow is April 1st. The rest of the world knows it as April Fools Day, I only know it as the birthday of my Wondermare, my first horse, my teacher, my best friend, the one that has led a line of distinguished, life-changing horses behind her. She taught me the meaning of hard work, perseverance, heart, generosity, and giving back. She was the one that tore my heart open not once, but three times. She was my Phoenix that rose from the ashes.
Her name was Triple Thirteen.
She went by Triple, Triple Dipple Doo, Doo, Wondermare. Triple was a Louisiana-bred Thoroughbred, born on April 1st, 1987. She is my April Fools baby, it's right there on her papers. Her race record was nothing remarkable - 13 starts (are you seeing a trend here), 4 seconds, 2 thirds. I am honestly surprised she hit the board, because after she left the track she cemented it in her constitution that she would never gallop again. If you needed to go faster than a polite canter, you could get off and run it yourself.
She came into my life in 1997. She was my first horse and funny enough, she was the one I wasn't even looking for. I tagged along on a barn mate's horse shopping trip and she was the first horse we looked at. She walked into that freezing cold indoor with a square cooler covering her, like a prized fighter walking into a championship fight. She came home a couple weeks later and took on the role of professor for this 12-year old starry-eyed kid. Funny story: our first horse show never actually happened. She refused to load onto the trailer that morning, so we eventually had to stay home. Her punishment was trucking me around at home instead, the braids still in her mane. We may not have gotten off to such a great start, but we had a pretty damned good run after that.
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| All dressed up and nowhere to go! |
Over the next five years she took me from the 2-foot divisions through 3'6" (and higher, she won not one, but two puissance competitions up to 4'9"!). We competed in the hunters and equitation divisions all over the state and some regional competitions. She and I earned year-end titles and ribboned at different state medal finals. She patiently taught me finesse and I loved her for her generous nature. She was a part-time school horse, and occasionally filled in as a catch ride for adult medal riders needing to qualify; the only advice I ever gave them was "Point her in the general direction of the fence. Even if you don't, she'll find it and jump it anyway. Literally just sit there and don't get in her way." She knew the job better than any of us did, and she was always happy to help.
She also carried me through a Medal round in sideways flying snow during a freak October blizzard.
Her generosity and heart wasn't just shown in the ring. She came back from the brink of death. In 1999, she had her first of two colic surgeries. After that surgery she contracted an infection that killed the other three or four horses that had also contracted it. She lost over 300 pounds, had a body condition scale of probably 1.5 (2 if you're being generous). Amazingly enough, in the second week of fighting for her life she turned the corner. She might have looked like a walking skeleton compared to the sleek show figure she normally wore, but she walked out of that hospital. Sole survivor.
She was the state Junior Hunter champion the following season.
Triple had a second colic surgery in 2001. She and Soon have many things in common, but one of the more heartbreaking things is that I cradled both of their heads in my arms as we laid crumpled on the ground, thinking I was about to lose them forever. At the time, I didn't know horses could have more than one colic surgery. So imagine my relief when the surgeon said she was going to surgery, and afterward when everything went perfectly (including her recovery). The Wondermare, back from the brink of death a second time. And like the Phoenix rising out of the ashes she transformed and started a new role in life.
Following that surgery, we eventually (after trying things out for the better part of a year) decided to step Triple down. She was getting older, I was trying to enter the more competitive equitation ranks and it wasn't fair trying to drag her along with me. She hated being idle as I moved onto another horse. I maintained ownership, but with the help of my wonderful trainer, Triple found a loving home with an eventing trainer, Kathy, in the state in a long-term free lease. Triple became a schoolmaster for Kathy's daughter, and eventually a full time school horse for beginner riders. She was always in good weight, cheerful, and Kathy came to knew her little annoying bouts of gas colic like the back of her hand (every time the barometer dropped, or so it seemed). I visited her at least yearly, between college schedule and then moving to Virginia for work. The last time I saw her ridden, five years later, she was toting the tiniest little girl around the ring at the most careful, polite trot I have ever seen. She loved her job.
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| Visiting with The Doo in 2005 |
Triple passed away on August 6th, 2007. Kathy called me in Virginia (which never happened, so I knew something bad was happening), explained she was colickign badly, and asked permission to put her down. My parents were ready to hook up the trailer and go take her to the clinic (we were all pretty familiar with colic surgery at that point, it was instinctual), but I had to plead for them to stay home. I spoke to the attending vet, uttered the phrase "nephrosplenic entrapment," and there was a long pause on the phone. "...How did you know that?" he asked. I explained she had suffered it twice before, both episodes surgical, and it was then that we all knew. Triple was 20 years old, and having been through what she had, there was no way any of us were going to put her through surgery a third time. I gave my permission and her suffering was ended.
I never got to say goodbye. I was supposed to come north to visit her the following week. Kathy and I had spoken about Triple's retirement, and I had made plans to bring her home with me and retire her in Virginia. I was just too late.
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| Our last visit together, Christmas 2006 |
I was thinking today about a unique difference between Triple and Soon. Soon was all mine; I picked him out at the track, I trained him, I rode him, I was there with him when he died. While Triple was mine in ownership, she also belonged to others. She taught so many people about riding, both while I had her, and afterward with Kathy. In the rollercoaster of our relationship, I realized things happened exactly as they were meant to. I was meant to move on to riding other horses, and she was supposed to go give other riders confidence. She had to go help everyone else. She was never meant to be mine alone.
So....what about this Netflix show?
Here on the eve of Wondermare's 32nd birthday, I was watching this series of short animated stories and this one episode comes on titled "Lucky 13." Now...obviously I'm a huge fan of the number 13 after Triple and absolutely consider it my lucky number. I wear #31 in hockey because it's 13 reversed (13 is not a "traditional" goalie number so I got creative). So just by the title alone I'm thinking "Oh hell yeah." Then I watched the episode and cried by the end.
It's set in the distant future and is about a young female Marine pilot who is given an old ship with an unfortunate history and an unlucky serial number...13. I laughed with I saw the extended serial number was 13-08313...I think I remembered the whole serial, but point is it ended in "313," which is my code for Triple (Triple Thirteen = 313). Old 13 had been through battles and shot down and recovered/returned to service twice. The pilot came to love that old ship, they get each other through many combat missions, and at the end (BY THE WAY, SPOILER ALERT) the pilot scuttles the ship after being overrun by the enemy. But the explosion didn't destroy the ship when she thought it would; it was delayed for a reason unknown to the pilot, and amazingly enough it went off just when all the enemy soldiers surrounded the ship itself. The ship exploded and the enemy were all killed, saving the surviving Marines now on the ground. It was the ship's final act to save her crew.
I guess I felt compelled to write all this because of what I saw in the show, because of the coincidences of the timing, the prevalence of the number 13, the relationship between the young pilot and the twice-resurrected war horse of a ship...yeah, that episode had me in tears at the end for all the good reasons. Smiling, too.
Happy birthday, Doo. As always, I'll see you in my dreams.
💕313💕
