In the past, I thought I was a wordsmith, a master of language, able to paint vivid pictures with my words and pull emotions from hearts like a magician. But now, as I sit here, staring blankly at the screen, it’s not words that come to me — it’s memories. Memories that pour out like silent films, playing on the fragile screens of my heart. They are vivid, but they refuse to be captured by anything as limited as words.

“Write something,” they said. “He was with you from the start, from day one. It’s only right to tell his story.”

But how do you capture a love that was so much more than just words? How do you describe the bond that went deeper than any spoken language? I could tell you about those early days, how Pete clung to life by a thread, and how we spent hours together, fighting against the pull of death. I could tell you how Pete was the spark that ignited the fire in me to create Habitat for Horses, to wake up every morning with a purpose — to save lives. From that first step with Pete, I rescued thousands of horses, donkeys, and mules, pulling them from the jaws of neglect and cruelty.

But today isn’t about numbers or accomplishments. Today is about love, the kind of love that rewrites the rules of what’s possible. It’s about those hours I spent in his stall, tending to his wounds, my voice soothing him through his pain. And it’s about how, in those moments, it wasn’t just Pete who was healing. I was healing, too. It wasn’t just that I was saving his life — Pete was saving mine.

There’s something about a young, broken colt, not even a year old, looking into your eyes with pure trust, knowing you’re fighting for him. That kind of connection changes you in ways you never expected. Pete and I didn’t need words. We had something stronger — a language of souls. He showed me how to listen, to hear beyond the spoken words. Through Pete, I found the strength to face the hardest challenges, to confront the horrors of animal abuse and neglect, and to believe that I could make a difference.

For twenty-eight years, Pete stood by my side, even when I couldn’t always be there. There were times when I couldn’t see him for weeks, but he was always there, grazing in his pasture, knowing our bond was unbreakable. I knew it, too. In every step I took to save another horse, Pete was with me, lending me his strength, his spirit.

I could tell you endless stories about him — about the times he made me laugh, the times he surprised me with his antics, like when he pushed me into the lake or swiped my phone and ran off to the far end of the pasture. Those stories will come one day, but today, they feel like whispers in the wind, too light for the weight in my chest.

“Write something,” they said.

The only time I ever saw Pete as just a horse was the day he stepped off that slaughter truck and into my trailer. From that moment on, Pete wasn’t just a horse — he was part of me, and I was part of him. We never doubted, never questioned. We trusted in each other with a love so vast that it felt like it had no boundaries, like one soul mixed in with another.

And then, suddenly, it was over. Pete told me in the only way he could: “Dad, I can’t do this anymore. I need your help. It’s time. Let me go.”

On a sunny afternoon, in a pasture lush with grass and life, Pete took his last breath. My hand gently closed his eyes as he slipped from this world. The weight of that moment shattered me. My world, once held together by Pete’s presence, felt like it was tearing apart. I stood there, lost in the enormity of my grief, and looked out across the pasture. Fifty horses were grazing, a few resting in the sun, peaceful, alive. And in the other pastures around the ranch, hundreds of others stood, enjoying their freedom, their safety.

“You did this, Pete,” I whispered. “Every one of them, every life saved — it’s because of you. Just like you saved me.”

Pete is gone now, but his spirit is everywhere. Every horse that runs free, every donkey that feels the sun’s warmth after a lifetime of neglect… they all carry a piece of Pete with them. And so do I. Because of him, you’re reading this. Because of him, I found my purpose, and Habitat for Horses became a reality. So, if you take anything from this, please take a moment to thank him. He’s up there, just beyond the clouds, running free with his old friend Tiger. And he’ll hear you.

And maybe, just maybe, on some quiet morning when the mist lingers over the fields, you’ll catch a glimpse of two figures, an old cowboy and his horse, standing side by side, silhouetted in the dawn. If you listen closely, you might hear a soft, familiar tune carried by the breeze, the kind of song only sung between best friends. That’ll be us — me, back with my soulmate, Pete. In that moment, we will communicate without words, just through the silence of a love that never ended, a bond that time could never break. We’ll be together again, like we always were — inseparable, forever.