Editor’s note: This is my Viewpoint column from our Older Horse issue, which went to press in late March and is hitting mailboxes this week. I thought our online readers would appreciate this update on my OTTB Happy, as well, because I’ve written about him many times over the past decade.

Back when I was a horse-crazy kid, my mom’s mare Beauty lived well into her 20s, which everyone considered quite old. Then my pony, Pacer, lived to be 40. (I wasn’t surprised because I’ve always considered ponies basically immortal.) Next, Icy, my first retired racehorse and heart horse, lived to be 30, his life only cut short by complications from the neurologic disease equine protozoal myeloencephalitis.

Maybe it’s just me, but it seems horses have been living longer due to the improved care owners have given them the past few decades—with greater attention to diets, preventive care, and mild lameness. We are incredibly lucky to keep these special souls around for as long as we do. Over thousands of grooming sessions, rides, and peaceful nighttime checks, we’ve come to know our equine partners so very well, and they us.

In the Older Horse 2025 issue we have curated articles to help you care for the older members of your herd, from beloved pasture ornaments to those on the competition circuit. For those of you with younger horses that will one day be your sweet seniors, we cover planning ahead for health emergencies, how to utilize recovery time for long-term soundness, and how hooves change over a horse’s life.

Two weeks ago (at press time) my lameness-focused veterinarian came out to be sure my off-track Thoroughbred gelding, Happy, was on the right track for 2025. Happy trotted smartly— and with flair—up and down the barn aisle, showing her just how ready he was for our spring activities. She said he looked incredible coming out of winter.

A few days later Happy got new shoes, and I celebrated his 19th birthday. While riding, I sang “Happy Birthday” to him, just as I have every March 19 of the past decade. He punctuated my line of “… dear Happy” with a massive in-place spook at a newly parked piece of construction equipment nearby. I chuckled about his response, and he seemed a little embarrassed, as if to say, “My bad! I hadn’t seen that yet.” I sang to him again before turning him out for the night, as he listened and waited patiently for his treat.

That weekend—last weekend—we were checking off one of my bucket-list items: our first foxhunt, to be held at our favorite venue. We attended a sunset trail ride the eve of the hunt and, like any former graded-stakes winner, Happy wanted to be in front (It Happened Again was his Jockey Club name if you’d like to look him up.). He marched out confidently ahead of the large group as if he were providing a grand tour of the property. At one point I noticed I was completely relaxed, content, and enjoying the moment, which doesn’t always come easily for me.

The next day Happy and I strode out with the third field. He calmly watched the pomp and circumstance of hounds and horses as if he understood the order of things and was excited to see what the day would hold.

Forty minutes later, as we walked along on the buckle, my sweet Happy suddenly died. It was very traumatic for me, but vets who’ve seen the necropsy report assure me he did not suffer. Somehow, I was uninjured—he took care of me even in how he passed.

Happy was mine for 10 years, two months, and nearly 22 days. Whether he was “old” was subjective; he never looked a day over 8 to me. We had an indescribable bond. I’d always imagined he’d be here at least another six or seven years. He’d outlive his molars, and I’d figure out which mash and soaked forage would suit him best.

Alas, we do not always know the time or place our treasured horses will leave us, but we can give them the best possible life in the interim. Today, as you read these pages, if you are a person who toasts, please raise a glass to Happy for me. And even if you don’t, please go hug your horses tight.