11/26/2025
✨ In Loving Memory of Venus ✨
Our brave, gentle, golden-hearted girl.
Venus came into our lives three years ago, rescued from Mike’s Auction—a crowded, low-budget livestock auction outside Los Angeles where horses like her often go unseen or unvalued. We didn’t know her past. We didn’t know what she had carried or what she had survived. But the moment she stepped off that trailer, it was clear she was something rare. She had a softness in her eyes, a steadiness in her breath, and a quiet, willing spirit that made it feel like she had always belonged with us.
On her second day home, we hosted a Fourth of July bonfire. For most horses, the chaos would have been overwhelming—the dark, kids running around, and fireworks cracking overhead. But Venus, in her calm, generous way, carried kids around the arena all night long. She never spooked, never hesitated, never faltered. She simply did what she always did: take care of the people around her. Even then, we knew—we had been blessed with a once-in-a-lifetime horse.
Over the years, she became the teacher of teachers.
She could carry a toddler with the gentleness of an old soul, then turn around and take a volunteer up the trail with confidence and heart. One summer, she even went to the Los Angeles Equestrian Center, where she taught kids how to canter—introducing them to that unforgettable moment when fear turns into joy and a horse becomes magic. So many children first learned to trust themselves because Venus trusted them first.
For the past year, she has been retired, spending her days as she deserved—grazing, sunbathing, rolling, resting, and being deeply loved. But her body has been slowly failing her. And while she still has a few good days in her, the pain is beginning to outweigh the comfort.
And so tomorrow, with love breaking us open, we will do the hardest thing guardians ever have to do:
We will let her go on a good day.
Before pain steals her spark.
Before her legs betray her.
Before she finds herself stuck or scared or suffering.
Because she deserves better than an ending of fear.
Tomorrow, she will have everything she loves.
Fresh grass.
Room to run and play.
Time to buck, roll, and breathe deeply.
Hands on her face. Arms around her neck.
Voices telling her—again and again—that she is a good girl.
Because she always was.
We do this not because we want her life to be shorter, but because we want her last moments to be full—not fearful. This is the sacred responsibility of loving an animal with your whole heart. To put their comfort above your heartbreak. To choose mercy over holding on. To let them go while they are still themselves.
My only regret is that we didn’t find her sooner. Ten more years wouldn’t have been enough. Three was a gift—but far too short for a horse like her.
Venus, thank you.
For every child you carried.
For every trail you climbed.
For every gentle step, every patient lesson, every moment of grace.
You were loved beyond measure.
You will be missed beyond words.
And you will live on in every rider who had the privilege and joy to be on your back.
It was the greatest honor to know you and love you, Venus.
Run free now, sweet girl.
No pain. No limits.
Just wind, sunlight, and peace. 🐎💛✨
-Tami
(Any donations to lay Venus to rest would be so appreciated. The cost is approximately $800. Donations are tax deductible as allowed by law.)
PayPal.me/mustangsmend
Zelle: [email protected]
Venmo: mustangsmend
Thank you so very much for supporting us in this time of grief.
