September 4, 2026: A Horse Like Me

My Horse Is Suspiciously Like Me

It was hot, we had finished our ride, and Bee had been rinsed off. We were standing together in front of the Port-A-Cool, enjoying what might be one of the greatest inventions ever placed in a Texas barn both for her and me.

Bee's head was hanging low. Her eyes were soft. She was cool, comfortable and completely content. Basically, she had reached equine bliss.

As I stood next to her, I had what I thought was a very sweet idea.

I wonder if she'd like to rest her head on my shoulder?

Her head looked heavy. I was right there. Maybe she'd appreciate a little help holding it up. Maybe we'd have one of those quiet horse-and-human moments you see in beautiful photographs where the horse rests her head against her person and the two of them clearly share a bond that transcends words.

So I moved closer, tucked my shoulder underneath her head and gently offered myself as a headrest.

Bee immediately lifted her head.

No drama. No fuss. Just a very clear:

I don't need to cuddle.

And I thought, Same, girl. Same.

That's when it hit me.

I couldn't have gotten a horse more like me if I'd filled out a personality questionnaire and placed a custom order.

Bee and me in front of the Port-A-Cool.

Just enough contact in this Texas August heat to count as cuddling, at least by our standards.

Spirited, Sassy and Full of Opinions

The more I started thinking about it, the funnier it became.

Bee has an opinion about everything. Where she'd like to stand. How long she'd like to stand there. Whether she'd like to work today. Whether the water should be anywhere near her face. Whether you've adequately scrubbed her belly. When she's ready to go back outside. And, most importantly, whether whatever you're currently asking her to do was her idea.

I occasionally find this frustrating.

Then I remember that I am an extremely opinionated woman who also likes things a certain way and generally has no trouble communicating that fact.

Touché, Bee.

She's spirited and sassy. Fierce when she needs to be. She's smart, athletic and independent. She doesn't need constant reassurance or attention. She can be affectionate, but she doesn't need to be hanging all over you to prove she likes you.

Apparently, neither do I.

Bee and I also share a certain directness. If she doesn't like something, you're probably going to know about it. She doesn't quietly harbor resentment while pretending everything is fine. She communicates.

Sometimes with her entire 1,000-pound body.

I'm more likely to use words.

Lots of them.

We Both Appreciate Proper Maintenance

Then there are our personal-care preferences.

Bee is remarkably good for the farrier. For my non-horse friends, that's the person who trims and cares for a horse's hooves and, when needed, applies shoes. Bee stands there and gets her toes done without making a production out of it, usually falling asleep until she is required to lift a foot.

Same, girl.

Spa treatments are also entirely acceptable. Bee likes being groomed. She likes having her mane and tail combed. We've recently established that she thoroughly enjoys having her belly scrubbed with those nubby rubber grooming gloves. She stretches her neck out, makes ridiculous faces and looks as though she's booked herself into a five-star resort.

I can't say I'd sign up for a belly rub, but substitute a good back rub and we're speaking the same language.

She also loves having the outside of her ears scrubbed and towel-dried, something I discovered while working through her objections to having her face washed. So apparently both of us can be persuaded to tolerate something we don't particularly enjoy if you package it with enough amenities.

Which brings us to the dentist.

Neither Bee nor I would put dental work high on our list of recreational activities. Bee, however, is perfectly manageable once a little sedation is on board.

I feel this is an entirely reasonable position.

Do Not Disturb

One of my favorite things about Bee is her commitment to sleep.

If she's tired and decides it's time for a nap, that's pretty much the end of the discussion. She's going to sleep. The rest of us can adjust our schedules accordingly.

I understand this on a spiritual level.

Horses actually do sleep differently from people. Because they're prey animals, they can doze while standing thanks to a system of tendons and ligaments called the stay apparatus, which allows them to relax without collapsing. But horses still need to lie down for periods of deeper sleep, including REM sleep.

So when Bee decides she's comfortable and safe enough to really sleep, leaving Her Majesty alone isn't entirely unreasonable.

It also fits her personality beautifully.

She's independent. She's comfortable making her own decisions. And if the decision is currently I am unavailable, she means it.

I respect boundaries.

Especially when they're mine.

Neither of Us Glows. We Sweat.

Here's another similarity I could have done without.

Bee and I both prefer cold weather.

Give us a crisp morning and we're happy. Give us a North Texas summer afternoon and things deteriorate rapidly.

Some people glow.

We sweat.

A lot.

Horses rely heavily on sweating to regulate their body temperature. As sweat evaporates from the skin, it helps carry heat away. When it's hot and humid, that evaporation becomes less efficient, which is one reason summer exercise can be particularly challenging for horses.

Bee doesn't need to know the science. She already knows summer is ridiculous.

This is the horse who has learned to appreciate a rinse after a hot ride and has mastered the art of standing in front of the Port-A-Cool as though she personally pays the electric bill.

I cannot criticize her.

We stand in front of that giant industrial fan together, in Texas in August that’s “our” fan.

Perhaps This Explains a Few Things

The more I think about our similarities, the funnier our relationship becomes.

I've spent a lot of time learning how to work with this opinionated, independent mare. Sarah has spent months teaching me to slow down, use quieter hands, feel what's happening before reacting, give Bee time to think and reward the try instead of demanding an immediate perfect answer.

And somewhere in there is an irony that isn't lost on me.

I'm an opinionated person trying to convince an opinionated horse that she doesn't always get the final say.

Of course this has taken some negotiation.

Maybe that's part of why Bee has taught me so much. A horse that simply agreed with everything I did wouldn't have forced me to become a better communicator. Bee makes me pay attention. If I'm unclear, she'll find the loophole. If I'm impatient, she'll tell me. If I ask correctly, I can feel the difference.

I can't overpower her personality, and I wouldn't want to. The goal has been learning how to work with all that Bee-ness while still being the one making the decisions.

Which, come to think of it, is probably how people who love me would describe dealing with me.

Do We Choose Horses Like Ourselves?

That got me wondering whether this is actually a thing. Do we gravitate toward horses whose personalities resemble our own?

The research isn't as simple as saying we automatically choose equine personality twins. Studies of horse-human relationships have looked at how human personality, horse temperament and the behavior of both can affect their interactions. Compatibility can matter, but "compatible" doesn't necessarily mean "the same."

That makes sense to me.

Some riders may benefit from a horse who balances them. A cautious rider might appreciate a steady, confident horse. A high-energy rider might love one who wants to go all day. Horse and rider don't have to share a personality to make a good partnership.

And sometimes, apparently, an opinionated woman buys an opinionated bay mare and then acts surprised when negotiations begin.

I didn't intentionally choose Bee because she was like me. In fact, when I bought her, I didn't yet know enough about horses to understand all the parts of her personality I was signing up for.

Now I do.

And the similarities are hard to miss.

Same, Girl. Same.

We like our hair done and our toes maintained. We appreciate a good spa day. We don't particularly enjoy the dentist but become considerably more agreeable with appropriate pharmaceutical assistance. We prefer cold weather. We sweat profusely. We value our sleep.

We're spirited. We're sassy. We're fierce when necessary.

We're independent, opinionated and perfectly capable of loving someone without needing to be attached to them.

And that's probably the similarity I appreciate most.

I don't know whether we gravitate toward horses who are like us, whether we simply recognize ourselves in them over time, or whether Bee and I are just a particularly funny coincidence.

But now I can't stop seeing it.

And the next time we're standing together in front of the Port-A-Cool and Bee's head is hanging low in complete bliss, I'll remember not to ruin the moment by trying to turn it into a Hallmark movie.

She doesn't need to cuddle.

Neither do I.

Same, girl. Same.