Ode to Otto the Great

Dear Otto,

I know I didn’t get to say “goodbye”, but even if I had been there, I would not have bid you farewell.  Instead I would have sat and shared all my funny Otto stories.  Or, as you have been known at various times: Othello Forever (your registered name), Otto-Matic, Otto the Great, and of course – by those who worked it – The Thigh Master. 

                  

When you came to us we were mesmerized by the giant white horse with the roman nose and the great backstory.  European Grand Prix horse, permanent damage done on flight to the US, ended up with our friend Laura M in California, and finally to us.  You always had a presence about you; but despite endless internet searches, I’ve never found European footage of you. 

I remember the first fun show we took you too – and how you became a different horse the minute you stepped in the ring.  Competitiveness, ability and presence took over, and you showed us you could still turn on a dime (to the surprise of the rider).

You would do your flatwork, but the minute it became clear the jumping was to begin, you woke up and took a whole new interest in the proceedings. How many times did I say the words “this is child’s play for Otto the Great”?

But your Houdini escapades are what you became really famous for in later years.  There was no door you couldn’t open, if someone left the key in the lock you could undo that too, and the latch at the very bottom of the door merely presented another challenge for you.  How many times did Teri wake up to the uneven clip-clop of Otto hooves? 

I’ll never forget the weekend I had ‘watch’ of the barn while Teri and John were celebrating their anniversary with an unprecedented trip off the property.  Otto you were the only horse I was worried about – just KNOWING you were going to escape and go walkabout.  Even at horse shows – for example, the Evergreen Classic, you got out, and when we went searching for you – there was your large white rear sticking out of the feed room.

How many bags of carrots, jars of horse cookies and god knows what else did you consume on your almost nightly jaunts? 

How you loved your naps too.  Once you got to turnout, you’d meander a bit, and then find a good spot to stretch out and really snooze.  You also loved to get free longue time in the arena, where you’d run and play a bit, then walk over and tell us you were done.  I still have pictures of you “helping” MJ, Mic and I put away jumps. 

And how many people did you hold up for treats just so they could get and out of the porta-potty without you flinging your halter at them? 

One of my last great memories was when you were living up top with your buddy Condor, and I heard you coming down the drive into the main barn.  You knew we were there and wanted attention, so just let yourself out and appeared to demand your due. 

Grooming you was certainly a challenge, but I remember your favorite spots to be scratched, and the permanent scrape on your nose, and much, much more.

You were big and handsome and regal and talented and beloved by so many.  There’s quite a bit more I can say, but it’s time to let you rest.  Just know you are loved and certainly not forgotten.

~mb