I’ll never forget the day my mom called me, her voice trembling with fear.
“Janna,” she said, “you’ve got to convince your daddy to get rid of that horse! It’s gonna kill him!”
The horse she was talking about was Major — or Major Deal, as Mom jokingly called him. He was a young, fiery stallion when Dad bought him, and everyone said he couldn’t be broken. “That horse is dangerous,” they warned. “He’ll never let anyone ride him.”
Before Dad got him, Major had suffered terribly. His previous owners had used cruel, harsh methods to try and tame him. They tied his head tightly between two posts so he couldn’t move, and left him that way for almost four weeks — without food or water. They beat him, trying to break his spirit.
But Major refused to give in. He stood strong through all of it.
When Dad brought Major home, it was chaos from the start. Within minutes, Major had broken through five strands of fence and was gone. He bit, kicked, and struck at anyone who dared to come near. Everyone said Dad was crazy to keep him.
But my dad wasn’t the kind of man to give up easily — especially on something he believed in. He didn’t use a whip or chains. He didn’t force Major to obey. Instead, he went out every day — rain or shine — just to stand by the fence, to talk softly, to show the horse he meant no harm.
Day after day, week after week, month after month.
For two long years, Dad worked patiently to earn Major’s trust.
And then, one day, something changed. Major didn’t pull away. He didn’t bite or kick. He stood quietly and let my dad touch him. Soon after, Major allowed Dad to put a saddle on his back — and then, finally, to ride him.
From that day on, they were inseparable. Every time Dad walked outside, Major would come trotting up to him, nickering softly, and nuzzle his head against Dad’s chest. Sometimes, he’d even press his lips gently to Dad’s forehead — his way of giving a kiss.
They shared a bond that words can’t really describe — the kind of connection only people who truly understand animals, and especially horses, can feel.
Years later, when Major grew old and weak, Dad stayed by his side, just like he always had. And when the time came for Major to say goodbye, he leaned in close, pressed his muzzle softly against Dad’s head, and gave him one last kiss.
It was his final act of love — his way of saying,
“Thank you for never giving up on me.”
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