Saving Builtmore: A Lesson in Getting Involved

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”—Antoine de Saint Exupéry

By Leny Freeman

Builtmore is more than just a horse—at least for me. Builtmore Harley Davidson fills a chapter in my life that finally closed with a happy ending.

It began when I met his owner, Renee Davidson, in 2003. We were volunteering to help convicted criminals restore their self-respect. That has nothing to do with horses, but that’s how we met.

One day in April of 2008 Renee called me and said she was looking for people to help her with an illness, and I told her I would. By May, Renee told me she had cancer. She was getting excellent care at City of Hope Hospital, but her cancer wasn’t discovered until it had already metastasized. She had summoned a group of us to help, and with a positive attitude we persistently and consistently helped however we could. For eight months we saw her getting better, and then getting worse. Renee knew she was going to die and was busy putting her affairs in order.

On November 18 at 3:30 p.m. Renee Davidson, in her sunroom overlooking Shadow Hills in the horse country of Los Angeles, departed her body. She had properly left all her affairs in order save one: Builtmore. She had loved Builtmore and desperately tried to find someone to take him. But giving away a 22-year-old unrideable horse—especially after the market crash the prior month—was not easy.

We found a woman who took care of him along with her own horse, Jack, on Renee’s property, but in April of 2009 she had to move Jack. Builtmore whinnied for Jack all day, but he was all alone with no one to care for him.

That’s when I stepped up and said to Jesus, “Leny Freeman, Angel Apprentice, reporting for duty, sir.” Me and my big mouth; I knew nothing about horses.

That ignorance did not last long. I found out just how dismal a horse’s life can be if he can’t make his living. I called various horse rescue centers, but they all wanted horses that could earn their keep being rented out.

I really need to acknowledge Renee’s neighbor, Jerri. I was very lucky to have her there teaching me so much about horses. She fed Builtmore in the morning and I fed him after work every night, and twice on weekends. I did all the cleaning, so I could tell if he was being fed properly. With her help Builtmore had all his needed vaccinations and a proper diet program. I had never jabbed a horse in the ass with a hypo-dermic needle before, but got it done for Builtmore. He didn’t have shoes but needed his hooves trimmed, so I found a good farrier named Ron who trimmed him up and took the stress off his navicular bone.

In May I spoke to the owner of a ranch who said that people were letting horses they couldn’t afford anymore into the hills to fend for themselves. I was outraged at such irresponsibility. She advised that I put Builtmore down, but I knew the answer to that was “no.” Builtmore wasn’t limping and didn’t appear to be in pain. I would only put him down to end suffering—not to solve my problem. I posted a hundred flyers all over Shadow Hills and other horse properties to find someone of means who wanted a companion for another lonely horse. My criteria for choosing someone for Builtmore was: (1) someone who could care for him better than I, and (2) he had to be in the company of other horses.

In response to my ads I received two types of calls: those who had serious questions on health, lameness, medications etc., to which I was honest and they declined. The second type of call was like, “Hey man, you giving away a free hoss? I’ll take him.” I don’t think so. I’ve seen people with that attitude before, and they ride horses into the ground and then sell them for dog food. No. NO. NO!!! That was not the future I would allow Builtmore—until I find the right match, the horse is mine.

After a month of seeing Builtmore every day, I stopped returning calls from good people who might take him. The inevitable had happened: I was in love with a horse.

From May to August, I tended him every day—grain hay in the morning, Timothy at night with grain, and a little psyllium for good colic prevention. His shack was about to fall down, so my buddy and I winched it back and added braces and a shade cloth for the summer. We added fly traps that were always filling up. We gave him carrots to keep him occupied, and we put fly lotion on his face. If you’re not experienced and confident with horse control, carrots are the next best thing.

A trail goes up from his paddock to Renee’s house that now has renters who also love Builtmore. He was used to coming up to see Renee, so he still came looking for her and to hang out on the patio to keep cool in the summer. As horses do, he would always leave something behind, so cleaning their patio became another duty. They’re lucky he didn’t have a house key.

By early August, I knew I would have to find a permanent home for him. My company was laying off people, and my job was looking rather risky. I didn’t want to be in a position of having to get rid of Builtmore if I lost my job. I wanted to keep him, but his well-being was more important. Reluctantly, I made a few phone calls; one was to Ron the farrier.

On August 12 I got a call from a guy named Tom Hill—a friend of Ron’s—who heard I was giving away a horse. I asked a stupid question: “Do you know anything about horses?” It turns out that Tom Hill is a retired farrier and for the last seven years has been breaking wild mustangs to sell them when they’re ready. Does he know anything about horses? I can only roll my eyes at that question.

Tom came over to check him out “from the feet up” and said he wasn’t as bad as I thought, then took him for a test ride. When I came to feed Builtmore that evening he was still gone, so I did my tasks and left. A while later I got a call from Tom: “You’re missing a horse,” he said.

“Should I call the Sherrif?” I asked.

“No,” he laughed, “He’s over here standing in wood shavings, eating hay, and happy as hell. He didn’t take a lame step all the way home, he rides great. He’s gentle and excellent for my girlfriend.”

I was sad but happy at the outcome; it was for the best—Builtmore is in perfect hands. My goal of finding him a loving home with better care and with other horses has been surpassed beyond my wildest hopes. It’s a perfect match. Tom and Jean are happy, Builtmore is happy, Jerri is happy, and I am happy.

And Renee is happy. This was all for you, Renee.

In closing, I want to be brutally honest with you. When Renee first called for help, my first instinct was to ignore it. Why? Because it was uncomfortable and inconvenient. But I could not ignore it. So I started helping and found myself giving more help to her than I ever imagined I would. Something was driving me—a higher power if you will, or perhaps it was my power. I thought that as long as I’m helping her, she’d get better and live; but that was not to be. I watched the cancer take her and there was nothing I could do to change that.

I was just getting over that when Builtmore’s plight came to my attention, and I knew I couldn’t ignore that either. Once again, I was driven from within. Inconvenient? Yes. Expensive? Absolutely. But it was a duty and an honor. Had I ignored Renee and Builtmore in their time of need, I would be locked in a trap of justifications and excuses, and trying to make myself “right” for the rest of my life. Thank God I did the right thing, for I’m a different person now. Despite the heartbreak and sadness, I am very proud.

You may find situations you can’t ignore either. The only way to fix it is to do something about it. You might not be able to save the whole world, but you can save part of it. The part of the world you save is your choice. A wise man once wrote, “A being is as valuable as he can help others.” So help some part of the world, and you will feel your value.

Leny Freeman
Sunland, California