​Registered Name: Special Heather

Born in California on May 7, 2001

Sired by Truckee Out of Hawk's Heather by Silver Hawk

My Name Is Special Heather. And This Is My Story.

There was a time when my name was spoken over loudspeakers, followed by the sound of applause. I was born under the California sun, bright-eyed, bay, and built for speed. They called me Special Heather. And for a while, I was.

I ran under the spires of Santa Anita, and felt the ocean wind in my mane at Del Mar. I knew the thrill of flying. The weight of a jockey light on my back. The surge of the crowd when I crossed the wire first. I earned my people $134,980. They called me a stakes mare. They said I was valuable.

But in racing, value fades quickly. The moment I stopped winning, they changed the game. From racehorse to broodmare, I became a vessel for their ambitions. I had seven foals. Each one taken from me, weaned and shipped off to carry someone else’s dreams.

And then… silence. One day, no one needed my body for winning or for birthing. My papers vanished. My name was forgotten. My worth dissolved.

They sold me to die.

In 2022, I was shipped to Bowie, Texas—emaciated, alone, and misidentified as “Private Malone.” My eye throbbed with pain, swollen and untreated. I couldn’t see clearly, but I could hear the desperation. Around me, horses cried out for help, some already silent. That place was not a holding pen—it was a sentence.

I waited to disappear.

But then, a voice. Not one I could hear, but one I could feel. A ripple in the darkness. Someone looked in my eyes and saw me. Not a tag, not a number, not a misnamed mistake—but a somebody. That thread of recognition traveled all the way to a woman named Susan Kayne at Unbridled Sanctuary.

She didn’t know me either—not yet. But she felt me. And she moved heaven and earth to bring me home.

I don’t remember the journey. Only the hunger. The fear. The aching in my bones. But when I stepped off the trailer in New York, something shifted. There were no whips. No chains. Just kind eyes. Soft words. Hands that trembled with love as they reached for me.

They called me Special Heather again.

In quarantine, I met another mare—her name was Power of Hope. Funny how we know our own. Her presence calmed me. Our breaths matched. We stood together in the stillness. She didn’t ask me for anything. She just was—and that was enough. In Hope, I found peace.

When she died, a part of me shattered.

I cried for her. Whinnied for her. Walked the fence line, hoping to see her silhouette. They brought her blanket to me—I stood over it for hours, breathing in the last of her. My grief was not imagined. It was not “anthropomorphic.” It was real. Deep. And honored.

The people at Unbridled never left me alone in that sorrow. They brushed me longer. Sat with me in the shade. They didn’t rush me to “move on.” They let me remember.

And in time… I made new friends. Marrazano. Miss Kitty. Together, we graze, groom, doze in the sun. We don’t compete. We don’t perform. We just are. And for the first time in my life, that is enough.

Today, I am 24 years old. I no longer race. I no longer breed. I am no longer for sale.

I am Special Heather. I am seen. I am known. I am home.

But home takes more than a field and a fence. It takes a human heart. One who will say, “I choose you. Not for what you did. But for who you are.” I need that kind of heart.

Could that heart be yours?

You don’t have to sponsor me fully. But if you could give something—anything—to help me stay safe and sound and seen, I will carry that gift with grace. Every day. Every sunrise. Every nuzzle to a friend’s withers.

Because I remember what it’s like to be thrown away. And I never want to go back.

Please help me live the rest of my life in peace, with dignity. Just as every soul should.

With love, gratitude, and oodles of smoozz;es,  —Heather 🐎

🟢 Sponsor Me – I need a sponsor! 
🟢 My essential care requires $26/day | $780/month | $9,490/year – Every gift counts. Every dollar brings safety. Every sponsor brings hope.