A TRIBUTE TO ALEX MOONEY. She was truly a warrior.

As you all know, I showed Morgan horses for many years.

During all of those years of showing, I met some wonderful people. One of them was Sally Plumley. She and I chaired a few Stallion Auctions and I adored her. Sally’s daughter was/is Sara Plumley (now Sara Breyman) who was a young morgan horse trainer back when I first purchased Mama Tess.

Sara and her then husband, Mike Mooney, trained Mama Tess for a time – as well as Aladdin, my trail riding partner for years.

Sara and Mike had a darling daughter named Alex. Immediately, Alex took to horses. She was riding before she could walk.

Alex showing as a little one.

Alex with the barn stallion. Both such gentle souls.

But, then the unimaginable happened. Alex wasn’t breathing correctly… and she was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis.

And yet, they carried on. Through thick and thin, Alex lived her life in an amazingly strong and full – as robust as possible – way. She rode, she showed, she traveled, she tried and tried and tried to heal. Two double lung transplants and experimental medicines… she lived 27 years.

Today, her parents, friends and family – as well as thousands of unknown friends from Alex’s Army (amassed by her family on social media as prayer and support) – mourn the end of the trail for Alex. Two months ago she showed her horse. This month, pneumonia and a blood clot in her lung.

Alex showing at The Morgan Grand National and World Championships

With baby Desi.

She knew the end was near and she grabbed onto her life and wrestled it to the ground. She did everything possible. And so should we, in her honor.

Alex’s last words: “I’m jumping on Secretariat!”

Alex passed yesterday. Everyone, feel the love and send Alex your thumbs up.

Alex with her favorite horse, Desi, who she bred and trained. Alex told all of her followers on FB that this is the photo that she kept by her bedside to keep strong during this last week.

FROM Stacia Klein (Alex’s best friend since childhood)

I can hear your laugh, coming deep from your belly. It was so easy to make you laugh.
I can hear your cry, whether from frustration or a sad movie. You had a big heart that felt strong emotions.
I can hear you cough, the constant struggle it took to get air to your lungs too often.
I can hear your voice talking about our dreams in this life, the sound of determination and strength.
I can hear you yelling at a horse because he stepped on your foot, then the next minute laughing and leaning forward in the saddle like a jockey galloping through the desert without a care in the world.
I can hear the sound of your vest machine, 3 times a day- every day.
I can hear the sound of the nebulizer and hear you trying to talk with it in your mouth. I think only I could understand your mumbles.
I can remember how competitive you were with those board games I was so bad at, they kept us busy and distracted during the hospital stays.
I remember how bad you wanted to have a normal life, but you were so much better than a normal person. And you made everyone around you a better person.
You touched the lives of every family member, friend, doctor, nurse, and every animal you met. Even people who never met you- you made an impact.
Most importantly I can feel your hugs. You were freakishly strong when it came to those hugs. I will always cherish those hugs.
I am so lucky to have spent my childhood with you. For the good and the bad, the happy and the sad and every little thing in between.
I’m feeling very angry because life is not fair and I wish you were still here.
That anger fuels me to live my life for you.
I will cherish every day and do my best to live a full life for you just how you taught me to.
Every time I sit on a horse, I will ride for you.
Every time I take a breath, I will breathe for you.
You are irreplaceable, not a day will go by that I don’t miss you. You have always been and will always will be my sister, my best friend, my lobster.
I love you. Rest, and breathe easy.

Thank you to everyone who reached out to me today. I just don’t have my head on straight to respond or read through facebook yet. You all made her life so special and full. Alex’s Army is the best. ?

Alex is on the left, in red.

GODSPEED, ALEX, YOU WERE VERY LOVED. You ride that Secretariat! You ride and breath as he does…deeply, and freely.

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EMERGENCY BUCKET FUND for GRANNYPONY – the 35+ blind, perfectly mannered little pony – left at the meat auction by her family!

35+ year old emaciated, pony mare, blind and fending for herself at a meat market! This mare, with her perfect manners, probably spent her whole life with a family…

No animal should be dumped – ever. But it makes me sick to have a sweet, tiny, old mare, who doesn’t eat much and is blind – be left at a horrible, stinky, sickness-infected kill auction to try to fend for herself against full-sized, younger horses.

In honor of all the old horses out there who are dumped, let’s please help Granny Pony!

All donations are 100% tax deductible! Granny Pony has been seen by a vet… she needs short-term hospitalization and IV fluids, a geriatric re-feeding program, soft shaving, continued elder care supplements and when she is stronger, her horrible teeth need a float. Thank you in advance!

Skinny Granny Pony with her hip bone and spine bones showing… and blind… at the meat auction. She is a 1 on the Heineke Scale. Her grey forehead is just like Dodger’s.

Granny has a lot of hair… but she is very skinny – you cannot see how thin she is under all of that fur – but all of her bones protrude. She’s blind and spent a few awful days trying to survive in pens filled with large horses, all battling for food and water.

HER STORY

This was just too much for me to see… Thank PonyGods that the Phoenyx Farm and Sanctuary (PA) stepped in and brought her home. Granny is very skinny, sick and weak. The vet gave her IV fluids which helped. Right now, she is eating and drinking! The vets at Muddy Creek Veterinary Services believe she will pull through. CAN WE JOIN TOGETHER TO HELP HER feel love, nutrition, warmth and care in her final years! She’s a fighter.

In honor of all of our old horses (and elderly parents…), please help those who do their best to help those who cannot help themselves. Many, many thanks!

She is very skinny under all that hair. A 1 on the Heineke Scale is very tough for any horse – especially an elderly horse.

Her first morning of IV FLUIDS, food and safety. White faced and boney… but she’s standing in the sun! They say she is very sweet and comes up to anyone for a head rub.