15 Stories of Care • Celebrating 15 Years of Gentle Spirit Horses Rescue
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When the call came in just before Christmas of 2019, the situation sounded impossible: a tiny, ancient miniature horse alone on a 10-acre property in rural South Dakota, his hooves so overgrown they curled over twice and were growing into his legs. Neighbors estimated he had been there—completely by himself—for nearly five years. An artesian well kept water flowing even in winter, the pasture provided enough forage to survive, and an old run-in shed clearly showed he spent most of his life standing in one spot. Somehow, against all odds, he endured.
When the sheriff intervened and we were asked to take him, we weren’t sure what we would find. We weren’t even sure he would survive transport. What we met was a frail, fuzzy, mid-to-upper-30s pony with a sweet face, a stubborn spark, and feet that revealed the level of neglect he had endured. After his owners failed to appear in court, and based on our testimony about his lack of care, he was adjudicated abandoned, neglected, and awarded to us.
Even with his condition, our vet believed there was still some quality of life left in him. Euthanasia would have been an understandable choice, and in many circumstances the right one. But in this case, with careful management, pain control, and a soft place to land, Rolo still had time left where he could be comfortable—maybe even happy. So we brought him home.
Because he wasn’t strong enough to be in a herd, he became the “free-roaming barn pony,” allowed to wander the property at his own pace each day. It was physical therapy disguised as freedom. His gnarled feet would never truly recover, but with careful trims, pain management, and movement, he slowly regained the ability to walk—and sometimes even give us a surprising little trot.
At night, he returned to a deeply bedded stall with soft shavings, blankets when he needed them, and a routine he adored. He figured out immediately which feed cans held sweet feed and would rock them until they fell over so he could climb inside and indulge. His appetite was enormous and completely unashamed. We often joked that his sweet tooth probably played a role in his founder years earlier.
Over time, his world grew smaller again. His wandering circles tightened, and he chose to spend more and more time resting. During Airforce’s stall rest for an injury, the two became a pair—Rolo lying just outside the stall door, Airforce (blind as he is) pushing hay out to share. They passed hours together in front of the fans, content in quiet companionship. Emotional comfort matters just as much as physical comfort, and Rolo soaked up every bit of it.
In early October of 2022, he started telling us he was reaching the end. He lost weight quickly, began breathing heavily, and we saw the unmistakable jugular pulse that confirmed heart failure. Two nights in a row he wandered to strange places to bed down, as if trying to find his own last spot. On his final day, we made sure his stall was soft, warm, and full of every feed he loved. He had gentle hands on him all afternoon, and when it was time, he passed peacefully, helped along so he would not suffer.
Three years earlier, this little old man would likely have died alone and unnoticed. Instead, he left the world surrounded by love, dignity, and a community that cared enough to give him comfort right to the end.
Rolo didn’t stay with us long in the grand scheme of things—but he mattered. He reminded us that the goal isn’t always to “fix” everything. Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is offer safety, softness, and a chance to be seen. And Rolo was very, very loved.
What Rolo Taught Us
Rolo’s story stays with us because it revealed three truths we believe in deeply:
Some lives can still be meaningful, even when they can’t be “fixed.”
Rolo’s feet were permanently damaged, and no amount of trimming or treatment could undo the years of neglect. And yet, with comfort, companionship, and thoughtful management, he still had good days left — days full of routine, soft stalls, sunshine, and friends. He reminded us that quality of life isn’t defined by perfection; it’s defined by comfort, safety, and dignity.
Compassion means meeting a horse where they are — not where we wish they were.
Rolo didn’t need a miracle. He needed a warm stall at night, freedom to wander at his own pace, and the emotional reassurance of horses nearby. Giving him those things was the win. Rescue isn’t only about dramatic transformations — sometimes it’s about recognizing that gentleness and presence matter just as much.
Horses often choose their own timeline, and it’s our job to listen.
As Rolo’s world grew smaller and the signs of heart failure appeared, he showed us — clearly and calmly — that he was beginning to let go. Knowing when to transition from “care” to “comfort” is one of the hardest parts of rescue work, and one of the most sacred. Rolo taught us to trust what an animal is telling us, even when our hearts aren’t ready.
Rolo made us better listeners, better caretakers — and better advocates for the elderly and forgotten.
Why We’re Sharing His Story
Rolo is one of the 15 stories we’re sharing as we count down to Giving Tuesday — stories that shaped who we are as a rescue, challenged us, changed us, and taught us what it means to truly Dare to Care.
If Rolo’s journey touched your heart, we hope you’ll join us in honoring him and the many horses like him.
❤️ Every donation is doubled thanks to our $15,000 Giving Tuesday match.
Help us continue providing compassionate endings — and soft landings — to the horses who need us most:
👉 https://givebutter.com/neighitforward