Last week, we lost a dear colleague. Our therapy horse City had to be put to sleep because his joints were too painful to carry him anymore. This wasn’t an unexpected loss as he was elderly; but he had seemed so solid to us, like he would always be there. He was an invaluable part of the therapy team because of this quality.
Despite his solidity, City was a highly sensitive animal. We came to realise that, when in ‘the ring,’ he would invariably pay attention to whoever was, in that moment, suffering the most. Normally, of course, this was a client. They came to us anxious or stressed or full of fear: City nudged and pushed his head against them until they were able to see him properly and come out of themselves.
One day, I received an unwelcome personal email seconds before the session was due to start. I took a few deep breaths and went into the paddock, my heart beating very fast. City came straight up to me and put his head on my shoulder. I was taken aback – it felt uncanny but comforting, as if the world outside had taken notice. There are many other examples from our practice: City was able to calibrate his behaviour, insistent when the client was switched off and protective and soothing when the client was stirred up.
Horses work so well therapeutically just because of these instincts. The herd is constantly shifting and hierarchies are fluid; horses pick up on subtle energies and communicate them. However, some horses cannot manage what they pick up. A client with powerful feelings will disturb them which can lead to the horse ‘acting up/out’. City was wise and experienced enough that he could absorb the client’s feelings without needing to then get rid of the energy.
This ability, to notice difficult feelings, react to them and then hold them is a key therapeutic skill. Therapists use their minds to contain what might not be bearable for others. This helps clients begin to process their emotions, but of course it can be draining work for both client and therapist. Whether human or animal, you are left with traces of trauma and suffering that you then have to separate out from your own experience.
City did this work; he was able to contain things for others. Sometimes, it left him very tired. We never explicitly asked his permission but he gave it every time he stepped willingly out into the paddock and began to notice who needed him. He carried emotional weight for our team and for the many people he helped and we thank him for it now as we did after each session. Rest in peace dear friend.
“…they have pulled our plows and borne our loads
But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.”
The Horses, by Edwin Muir
