Sundance's Golden Stride

Sundance was living sunlight on four hooves. His golden coat shone like a newly minted coin, and his white mane and tail flowed like liquid silver when he moved. A Tennessee Walking Horse, his signature running walk was so smooth you could hold a full glass of water without spilling a drop. He had an uncanny ability to sense a rider's mood, matching his energy to theirs—lively when you needed excitement, calm when you needed peace. The tack room smells of leather and hay, but it's missing the scent of his warm coat and the sound of his contented sigh when I'd tighten the girth. The trails we rode together now feel empty, missing the rhythmic four-beat cadence that was the soundtrack to so many healing hours.