The race-track held many unforgettable memories for Charlotte. When she was seven years old, she went with her father to watch the, “Kentucky Derby” for the first time. All the noise and crowds of people had frightened her at first, but eventually this is where her love for horses blossomed. Going back for the first time in years, the rundown appearance of the "Astroturf” track deeply alarmed her. Most of the horses that she remembered as stunningly beautiful were now skin and bone carcasses, that were forced to strain every muscle in their body. Charlotte was mortified and seemed to shove the money into Sam's hands in a trance. She was ready to peel out of the driveway and never come back, when the sound of a horse whinnying caught her diverted attention. Stepping out of the car she had a dizzying flashback. She remembered years ago, the last time she had been at the track, Dave saying that 'Honey' a chestnut coloured gelding had fallen in a race and broken her fetlock joint. Her owner had been viciously outraged at the thought of Honey no-longer racing and had stopped feeding the poor, broken soul.
Quickening her step at the vision of this memory, Charlotte turned the sharp corner into a row of stalls and her eyes froze on a rearing, frightened shape. At first as she looked at the midnight black shape, she thought it was a shadow. Then re- gaining her ability to breathe she realized that this radiant figure was how she had remembered the horses as a child. Muscular, gleaming and filling her heart with bliss. She couldn't help but smile until she saw the deadly crop in the man’s hand. Its handle was jet black and the leather around it had been severely polished many times. This was the source of the horses whinnying. The man raised his hand, the one gripping the crop, and just as he was about to strike the geldings beautiful coat, Charlotte grabbed his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing young man?”
He looked startled and almost dropped the shorter version of a whip.
“This is my horse, I can do whatever I want with it!” he almost shouted. Charlotte was so furious that she forgot who or where she was, all she could think about was how she could get this young horse away and out of this heartless man’s life. The world stopped spinning as Charlotte caught hold of the forgotten lead rope and tossed the man fifty dollars that she no longer cared about. Running to her car she took a look at the expensive gold laced bridle and saw the silver plaque glint in the sweltering sun. It read, “Godiva” and she knew that this angel's future had just taken a twist to fall on the same path of life as hers.

The adrenaline rush Charlotte had just experienced brought her swiftly back to her youth, but even she couldn't ignore the fact that she had no place for Godiva to rest. Placing her hand on her rarely used phone she thanked herself for having the common sense to bring it. Calling her elderly mother almost frantically, Charlotte tried to find the words to explain that she had just bought or stolen a man’s horse. When the line picked up, she was still trying to figure out the words to say, so she just loudly blurted, “Mom, today I bought a horse for fifty dollars and her name is Godiva. She’s absolutely beautiful and I need a place to keep her.” Charlotte’s mom, Margaret was a very calm and collected person. Whenever Charlotte had a problem she would call her mother and Margaret would always have a fool proof answer for her. This was the first time that she had ever hung up on her daughter.

After the phone call, Charlotte called a horse trailer to pick up her and Godiva. Getting home without a solution she sunk into her faded pink couch while the stench of mildew surrounded her. She heard someone sobbing uncontrollably and got up to go comfort whoever it was. It was only when she was confused, standing in the kitchen when she saw the teardrops on the floor. She held her trembling hand up to her face and her fingers grazed the skin underneath her puffy eyes. When she pulled them away she felt the clear, salty tears creep down her slightly wrinkled cheeks. In the last month, Charlotte had cried more times than she had in her entire life. She staggered back as if someone had punched her and her cheek, wet with tears, was suddenly pressed up against the bitter tile floor. Then slowly, she saw the blinding light at the end of the tunnel. Dave . . . . . That was the only thought that passed through her pounding head as she lie there. What would he think if he saw her now? She had to get up; if not for her then she had to get up for him.









It took all the strength in Charlotte’s frail body to lift herself to an awkward crouching position and she desperately wondered how she would get through her miserable life without her soul mate. Then flashing back to Dave’s last words she knew what she had to do. “Take care of yourself Charlotte. I don’t want to leave you like this. If you feel like your depression is seeping back in, just think of me and try to remember that I will be watching over you from heaven. I will never let anything bad happen to you, take care of yourself.” All she needed were those few sentences to energize her body and before she knew it, Charlotte was standing in front of a dirty mirror in her cluttered bedroom. Taking a long look at her speckled reflection she barely supressed a gasp. Brown, matted hair sat on the top of her head in an abused bun and it looked like she hadn’t taken a shower in weeks, that’s probably how she smelt too. Her cheek bones were clearly visible and she tentatively guessed that through all the stress, she hadn’t been eating as much as she should be. Deciding to pick the positive road, Charlotte stepped into the shower for the first time in what seemed like a long drawn out lifetime. Drying her hair quickly with her blow dryer, she called a place where she knew Godiva could stay for a while.

When Charlotte dropped Godiva off at Gooseberry farms, she couldn’t have expected a finer welcome. The owner of the quaint farm, Vanessa an elderly British woman, quickly guided Godiva into a nearby stall with running water, filled with wood shavings and complete with a rubber stall mat. She kept glancing at Charlotte as if she was afraid that if she looked away for too long, Charlotte would prove to be a figment of her imagination. Skillfully dodging all the personal questions about family, Charlotte finally managed to ask Vanessa if she could board Godiva at Gooseberry farm.
“Oh, of course my darling! It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen that pretty little face of yours, we wouldn’t want it to disappear again now would we?”
Charlotte eventually no longer found Vanessa’s ridiculous accent amusing so she insincerely left the barn to do some “Grocery Shopping”.

The next morning, Charlotte joyfully bounced out of her creaky bed knowing that she was going to go visit her new addition to the family. Almost prancing to her car she remembered how frightened Godiva must be and she reminded herself sternly to stay safe no matter what. Once she arrived at the barn, Charlotte headed straight for the stall with the faded pine siding. Carefully placing a spare blue and purple halter over her drowsy head, Charlotte took exaggerated measures to stay clear of Godiva’s powerful back legs and grinding teeth.
Retrieving a curry comb, hard brush and a hoof pick, Charlotte let herself relax slightly when she saw Godiva gently nuzzled a young girl’s shoulder. Brushing mud soaked Godiva alone took an hour and a half. When she had found Godiva she had guessed that wasn’t the first time she had been brutally abused, but she had never imagined to what extent. After the coated layer of baked on dirt and manure was scrubbed off her dense body, Charlotte took a glance into a whole different, cruel world. The gashes that went along side Godiva’s ribs were about the width of her thumb and as long as a new H1 pencil. They were the colour of eggplants and had opened up again because of Charlotte’s vigorous brushing. Her easiness to open wounds suddenly disappeared and as the stench of fresh blood enclosed her, it was all she could do to not stagger out into the aisle and be sick.

Charlotte almost ran through the teeming corridors of people and horses until she found the groom mucking out a stall on the opposite edge of the barn. Convincing him that Godiva’s lacerations were serious he looked concerned and hardly turned around to look at her when he uncomfortably said, “Charlotte you just wait with Godiva to make sure she’s alright while I go and get a bucket of cold water and a sponge.” With that he vanished around a curve and Charlotte saw that she had no other choice than to follow his frustrating advice. When she got back to Godiva’s stall teary-eyed she felt guilty seeing that the groom was already washing out Godiva’s gashes. Then the smell of blood surrounded her again and even guilt could not force her to make a re-appearance in that stall. She decided to wait outside until the odour subsided and then she would see what she could do.
An hour passed before the groom appeared again, telling her that she should go in to comfort a highly agitated Godiva. Warily stepping into the now scent-less stall, Godiva immediately calmed at the sight of her. Charlotte rubbed Godiva on her damp forehead in a leisurely circular motion because that was Duke’s favorite spot to be scratched.

As caring days, loving weeks and trusting years passed, Charlotte became to love Godiva as more than a pet and sooner or later filled the void where Dave used to be. Charlotte figured out what kind of brushes Godiva liked, what treats she preferred and what paths she liked to saunter along. Every hour that passed with Godiva was blissful heaven for Charlotte. Every morning was now spent at Gooseberry farms and the groom said that when Charlotte was gone, Godiva would become restless.


One, sunlit, spring morning seemed like the perfect day to go on a trail ride with Godiva. Driving along all the pot-hole filled back roads, Charlotte thought about which trail they would take. The peaceful one that ran alongside the clear stream or the cross country course where they could work on their jumping. She was still pondering when she arrived at the barn, so she didn’t hear Godiva’s neighing right away. Tripping over her uneasy feet, Charlotte couldn’t help but think back to when she had first gotten Godiva, the whinnying that had captured her attention sounded identical to the one she was hearing now.

Just as she was entering Godiva’s stall, she rammed into the ill-mannered stable hand. Demanding what he had been doing Charlotte didn’t let herself think about the situation and only waited to hear his response.
“Jeez lady” he didn’t start off on a very positive note, but that was probably appropriate. “Why are you getting all mad at me here? I’m just a stable hand doing my job. I saw that your horse had a rock in her hoof so I was removing it, that’s all. You don’t have to get all up in my face.”
He left with his temper still visibly flaring. Charlotte didn’t really know what to say or do so she just gingerly opened Godiva’s thick stall door. Godiva immediately reared up at the back of her pine stall and her hooves harshly made contact with the walls. It took Charlotte twenty minutes of soothing words and balanced movements to finally get troubled Godiva calmed down. Putting the bit from the bridle in Godiva’s mouth, Charlotte noticed that Godiva’s gums were a sickly greyish-white colour. Making a mental note of this, she told herself that she would call the experienced vet after her ride.

Charlotte had decided to take the path that ran beside the cool, chattering stream and once they were away from all of the noises of the swarming barn Godiva seemed to become restless again. Stumbling over moss covered logs and roots that were easy enough to step over Charlotte began to sense that something was wrong. Just as Charlotte was about to halt Godiva, she stumbled more severely and started to plummet to the swiftly approaching ground. Charlotte fell on her back and landed on soft grass that cushioned her fall, but Godiva wasn’t so lucky. She had crashed through the luxurious underbrush and she was lying down with her bloody leg in a nauseating position. Seeing that her phone had fallen onto the path Charlotte desperately snatched it and frantically called the barns vet. Explaining to him in a hurried response what had happened, he said that he was at the barn and would be with her in five minutes. Those five minutes seemed like the most drawn out period of time that Charlotte had ever experienced.
When he finally arrived on the path, he looked like an angel to Charlotte. Without saying anything, the vet performed a quick scan and informed Charlotte that Godiva’s leg was broken.

Back at the large animal veterinary practise, Charlotte seemed to slip into an emotional coma. Everything before her was seen by her turquoise eyes, but she didn’t register anything that the vet said. She made out medical terms like “internal hemorrhaging” and occasional phrases like “blow to the head”, but she didn’t have the emotional strength to think about what that meant. One groggy day later, Charlotte woke to her family doctor telling the vet that shock had developed into her system. Sharply sitting up she mumbled, “I’m right here, I can hear you.” Settling his unnerving gaze upon her at the sound of her anxious voice, the doctor looked at her almost pitifully.
“What?” After she said it, Charlotte recognized the look on her solemn doctor’s face. It was the same look that he had given her when he’d said that Dave was in critical condition.
After an hour of technical terms, Charlotte managed to extract that Godiva had severe internal bleeding, and they were caused by many agonizing clouts to the head. Charlotte thought back to earlier in the day when she had heard Godiva whinnying in pain. Trying to picture the scene as clear as she could in her mind, she recalled that even though the stable-hand said he was picking out Godiva’s hooves, he didn’t have a hoof pick. Putting two and two together, Charlotte couldn’t believe how blind she had been to Godiva’s abuse, especially when he had a reputation for losing his blazing temper with the horses.



Many agonizing scans and tests later it was determined that it would be better for Godiva in heaven than it would ever be for her on this corrupted Earth. Godiva saw the needle that would inject anesthetic to stop her steadily beating heart. Seeming to relax and accept her fate she laid her heavy head on Charlotte’s shoulder while her uncontrolled tears blurred the scene. Wanting nothing more than to retrieve Godiva from the land of the dying, Charlotte watched as the last breath of life ended and stayed with her until Godiva’s body no longer held her intense spirit.





Over the next painful days, the gaping hole that Godiva had filled gradually started too open again. At times when all Charlotte had to do was think, breathing seemed like the biggest task she had ever been given. When her soundless house was interrupted by the unexpected ring of the phone, Charlotte wouldn’t have answered it except for the instinct in her gut. She answered the phone the same way that she had answered it for the past twenty-five years, “Hello, Charlotte Philter’s residence, how may I help you?”
“Hello Charlotte, I just thought I would give you the common courtesy of knowledge.” Vanessa’s British accent was the last thing that Charlotte wanted to hear, but suddenly she was glad that Vanessa had called.
“Expenses have gone up my darling and to tell you the truth, well I just don’t have the finances to keep Gooseberry farms. It’s going on the market in a week, so you might want to come and say a last good-bye to all the horses.”
Not wanting and not knowing how to answer that statement, rattled Charlotte hung up the phone. She put on her well-worn blue jacket and stepped outside into the storm. She needed to think and she did that best when she was walking.
The cool droplets of rain trickled down Charlotte’s back and it helped her concentrate. She had two choices, and thankfully she knew what they were. She could fall back into her heavily depressed state or she could fix the problem. Charlotte knew which one was the easiest, but she also knew which one would force her to respect herself.

Over the next painful days, the gaping hole that Godiva had filled gradually started too open again. At times when all Charlotte had to do was think, breathing seemed like the biggest task she had ever been given. When her soundless house was interrupted by the unexpected ring of the phone, Charlotte wouldn’t have answered it except for the instinct in her gut. She answered the phone the same way that she had answered it for the past twenty-five years, “Hello, Charlotte Philter’s residence, how may I help you?”
“Hello Charlotte, I just thought I would give you the common courtesy of knowledge.” Vanessa’s British accent was the last thing that Charlotte wanted to hear, but suddenly she was glad that Vanessa had called.
“Expenses have gone up my darling and to tell you the truth, well I just don’t have the finances to keep Gooseberry farms. It’s going on the market in a week, so you might want to come and say a last good-bye to all the horses.”
Not wanting and not knowing how to answer that statement, rattled Charlotte hung up the phone. She put on her well-worn blue jacket and stepped outside into the storm. She needed to think and she did that best when she was walking.
The cool droplets of rain trickled down Charlotte’s back and it helped her concentrate. She had two choices, and thankfully she knew what they were. She could fall back into her heavily depressed state or she could fix the problem. Charlotte knew which one was the easiest, but she also knew which one would force her to respect herself.

Arriving at Gooseberry farms an hour later, Charlotte was in a virtuous state of mind. Marching up to Vanessa she had a determined look in her bright eyes. Shoving a signed cheque in her hands Charlotte burst into tears of joy,
“I want to buy Gooseberry Farms.” For the next month and a half, Charlotte was one of the busiest people in the town of Lantoun. With every crack in the drywall that she fixed and every window pane she replaced, Charlotte knew that she had picked the right choice.


Charlotte dragged her brand new shiny loft ladder across the levelled dirt path until she reached the front of her paradise. Climbing it slowly, she had to pause multiple times to marvel at the beauty of the building before she placed the symbolic sign in the middle of the stone wall. It’s mammoth, gold-plated letters shimmered in the sunlight and it looked as magical as a fairy tale. Charlotte’s spirit soared like a bird finally let out of its cage and she sighed in absolute delight. Turning around at the sound of a horse nickering in its stall, Charlotte smiled as she knew that she was finally independent. She thought back to the agonizing weeks before, when she remembered how it had only been Dave’s words that had kept her going. Taking a step towards the barn Charlotte knew that she wasn’t living for Dave anymore, she was living for herself. Sneaking one last look at her homemade sign she walked confidently towards the stall with the nickering horse to see if his wooden food rack was empty.

“Welcome to Charlotte’s Rehabilitation Centre for Abused Horses.”