Originally Published 4/6/26.
Those of you who have seen me present on stage know that I always find a way to incorporate my horses into the mix. In my mind, the horsemanship lessons are directly parallel to what we as leaders, managers, and teammates encounter daily. My hope is this approach helps the message stick.
Today is not a good day as I’m preparing to say goodbye to my biggest mentor, C.S. Gaybar Latigo aka Lattie. Lattie is the one who taught me many of the lessons I share with the industry when I speak.
If you’ve ever owned a horse, you know your veterinarian becomes part of your inner circle. Our partners at Austin Equine Hospital have been exactly that. They are my trusted advisors, steady voices, and friends. They’ve answered every anxious call from this self-proclaimed “helicopter horse mom” with patience and care. There were days I’d see their arms waving out the window at our boys in the pasture as they drove by on the highway and I occasionally receive random texts from them just to check on us.
Austin Equine taught me one of the hardest yet important lessons of all: if you truly listen, your horse will tell you when it’s time.
Yesterday on Easter morning in 2026, Lattie told me.
And as his “alpha,” my responsibility is to listen even when it breaks my heart.
Through communication with my “speed dial” friends we found a way to mask his pain enough that he can have one more day with us, and it’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining following the heavenly rain we were gifted over the weekend. The air is fresh and the temperature is crisp. What more could my Lattie boy ask?
The hard part is making sure he’s aware of how thankful I am to be his mom. How grateful I am for the lesson he taught, and how best to memorialize his purpose through continually sharing the gifts he gave with audiences across our industry and maybe beyond that scope.
That big lovable goofball, the gentle, sensitive giant that would spook at the site of a shadow from a bird flying above on a sunny day. That masterful supervisor always in the middle of any project in his pasture and the boy who stepped into a dominant alpha role once Harry Trotter joined the herd.
Saying goodbye hurts when you love another so hard, but it’s wrong to skirt the beauty of that relationship for the fear of pain. I’m also very cognizant that the pain I’m feeling at this moment is nothing compared to what I’ll face tomorrow, but I’ll muddle through it respecting the hurt as a reflection of our bond.
Today we share favorite treats, a couple of beers, and tons of hugs, kisses, and love. Tomorrow my sweet boy, you and Muddy will return to your playful battles free of pain in wide open fields.
I promise to continue sharing your lessons and legacy with others.
