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July 25, 2026
Sublime Rambling
Marry My Horse
By Vicki L. George
Special to the Prophet
The night Hubby asked me to marry him, I said, “Marry me, marry my horse!”
He said, “Okay.”
Then I said, “Yes.”
The horse that my hubby agreed to “marry” with me was my beloved mare, Duchess Austex. She was a registered Palomino, mostly Quarter Horse, that my folks bought for me when she was five years old and I was 13. I loved that ol’ mare more than anything — except, of course, my hubby and my kids later on. There was no way I would marry a man who couldn’t accept the package deal.
True to his word, we kept Duchess, “Duchy,” until she died of old age. By that time she had taught my kids to ride and she was the one they used in their first 4-H horse show in Seguin, where we lived for 10 years.
I put so many miles on that mare. Very little fazed her. She and I had a bond, a rapport.
Duchess would do things for me that she wouldn’t do for anyone else. When I was about 15 we entered a local gymkhana event. I put her over three low jumps. She sailed right over them, two were only about one foot high but the middle one was about two feet high. A friend thought that looked liked something she would like to try so she asked if she could ride Duchess over the jumps. I said, “Sure.” The girl got on and took the first, lower jump just fine. But when they came to the second higher one, Duchess just stopped and refused to go over. She went around it and took the third lower jump for the girl. The girl rode back to me and we couldn’t figure out what might be wrong so I got on and went around the ring again. This time Duchess took all three jumps like a pro. She would do that higher jump for me.
One of my favorite activities with that mare was chasing armadillos. I considered it fox hunting, Texas style. We would stay with a ‘dillo until it went to ground in the woods at the back of our property.
I rode with my brother a lot, too. He and I usually ended up in a race. Duchess and I didn’t always win but it was mostly neck and neck. That mare could run and that was always exciting.
She was the main reason I would never leave home. She was always honest with me, always was just what she was.
When she was old and her teeth were essentially gone, I would buy one-pound bags of carrots and run them through the blender, put them in a big plastic mixing bowl, add sugar and take them to her. I held the bowl while she slurped up her carrots, finishing with orange lips.
Hubby always said I fed Duchess better than I fed him. He also said that when she died he would probably have to dig a hole big enough for both of us. Well, I did feed her well, the best senior horse feed. And when she died we had her buried. All I could do was cry and mourn her loss.
They say the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man. Well, that applies to us gals, too. Duchess was good for my soul. I always had peace when on her back. She was my one special horse and I still miss her.
He said, “Okay.”
Then I said, “Yes.”
The horse that my hubby agreed to “marry” with me was my beloved mare, Duchess Austex. She was a registered Palomino, mostly Quarter Horse, that my folks bought for me when she was five years old and I was 13. I loved that ol’ mare more than anything — except, of course, my hubby and my kids later on. There was no way I would marry a man who couldn’t accept the package deal.
True to his word, we kept Duchess, “Duchy,” until she died of old age. By that time she had taught my kids to ride and she was the one they used in their first 4-H horse show in Seguin, where we lived for 10 years.
I put so many miles on that mare. Very little fazed her. She and I had a bond, a rapport.
Duchess would do things for me that she wouldn’t do for anyone else. When I was about 15 we entered a local gymkhana event. I put her over three low jumps. She sailed right over them, two were only about one foot high but the middle one was about two feet high. A friend thought that looked liked something she would like to try so she asked if she could ride Duchess over the jumps. I said, “Sure.” The girl got on and took the first, lower jump just fine. But when they came to the second higher one, Duchess just stopped and refused to go over. She went around it and took the third lower jump for the girl. The girl rode back to me and we couldn’t figure out what might be wrong so I got on and went around the ring again. This time Duchess took all three jumps like a pro. She would do that higher jump for me.
One of my favorite activities with that mare was chasing armadillos. I considered it fox hunting, Texas style. We would stay with a ‘dillo until it went to ground in the woods at the back of our property.
I rode with my brother a lot, too. He and I usually ended up in a race. Duchess and I didn’t always win but it was mostly neck and neck. That mare could run and that was always exciting.
She was the main reason I would never leave home. She was always honest with me, always was just what she was.
When she was old and her teeth were essentially gone, I would buy one-pound bags of carrots and run them through the blender, put them in a big plastic mixing bowl, add sugar and take them to her. I held the bowl while she slurped up her carrots, finishing with orange lips.
Hubby always said I fed Duchess better than I fed him. He also said that when she died he would probably have to dig a hole big enough for both of us. Well, I did feed her well, the best senior horse feed. And when she died we had her buried. All I could do was cry and mourn her loss.
They say the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man. Well, that applies to us gals, too. Duchess was good for my soul. I always had peace when on her back. She was my one special horse and I still miss her.