She settled into our life very well and became my horse of choice for anyone who wanted to ride but did not know how. With her new life, she took on a new name, Mitoseka, which means little bear in Lakota. Brown like a bear and sometimes willful like an old bear, her name suited her. Shortened to Seka, she took good care of those I put on her back. I always tried my best to return the favor and take as good of care of her as I was able.

Always steady and patient in the 12 years she was with us, she touched many people's lives with her kind, patient and caring ways. She was not an old plug though. She was anything but. Even at 28, she was more than willing to run her heart out and could beat my 9-year-old mare, Cyra, at a dead gallop down Woodman Road. She never acted or looked her age.

Seka's most recent "student" was my good friend, Amy. Amy had ridden a little in her years as a young girl, but basically came to Seka as a beginner. In the time they had together, Seka not only took care of Amy, she thrilled her, as well filling her with the joy of flying on the back of a powerful horse through a woodland trail. We have a place at Norumbega we call Canter Hill. It is an old wood's road that rises up from Woodman Road for about a hundred yards into the forest. After Amy and I had been riding together for a month, I felt she was ready for Canter Hill. Seka and her stable mate, Cyra, knew Canter Hill well. They knew what it meant when we pointed their noses up that hill. It meant run your heart out.

Before I took Amy up Canter Hill for the first time, we stopped and I briefed her about what was about to happen. I advised her to grab a handful of Seka's mane and hang on. I went first on Cyra and Seka and Amy followed right behind. As soon as we were headed up the hill, the mares took off like a shot. The trail is not wide, but Seka was determined to pass Cyra before we got to the top. For the few heart-pounding minutes it took to get to the top, the two mares gave it their all, and Seka was successful at besting her girlfriend. At the top, Amy turned to me with watering eyes from the speed that Seka had found deep in her huge heart. Amy's eyes were as large as dinner plates. She let out a joyous, "Holy s ---!," which pretty much summed up the gift that Seka had just given her.

Our memorable run up Canter Hill was just two weeks ago. Last night, Seka succumbed to the complications of her recent intestinal surgery and died. I will never think of her as an old horse. I will always think of her as that game girl who would run her heart out whenever I pointed her nose up Canter Hill. She touched many people's lives and I am glad she touched mine. After receiving the news from the wonderful folks at New England Equine Medical and Surgical Center last night, I went down to the barn to do my morning chores and cried tears of gratitude and sadness for the passing of my dear friend who meant so much to me and to so many others. We open our hearts to those around us, be they human or otherwise and in return we receive so many gifts. An open heart is a vulnerable heart though, and pain frequently follows joy. I am in pain today grieving for my Seka, but as much as it hurts to lose her, I do not regret a single minute of our wonderful journey together. The pain will fade, the joy will remain. milajuno@aol.com