Screech is my beloved 14 year old Thoroughbred gelding.  His registered name is indeed Screech.  I have owned him for 9 years and will keep him for the rest of his life.  Because of Screech, I was able to rediscover my life and my will to fight the opinions of doctors.

Screech has suffered his fair share of bad luck.  When I got him from the track, Screech was training in the deep footing at Suffolk Downs on a previously bowed tendon. He was dealing with severe thrush and had his frogs and soles painted with turpentine and burned with a blow torch.  He was a mess. A belly bloated with worms and a coat looking as though it was a wool sweater eaten by moths disguised this boy’s beauty.  I nursed Screech back to health and was able to enjoy this kind,athletic horse until he tore his Deep Digital Flexor Tendon while jumping.

Again, I nursed my dear gelding back to health.  This time, Screech’s soundness was met by my unsoundness.  I developed a neurological disorder and was told I would spend my life in a wheelchair.  After some time, I built up the courage to get on a horse again.  Screech was the obvious choice.  In the beginning, I didn’t have the strength to sit up.  Screech was saint-like.  He would shift his body if he felt me slide and he would refuse to move if he felt I was too unbalanced.

Screech is a winner because he repaid my kindness by giving me the will to keep on trucking despite my disability.  Screech saved me.

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