He had been abandoned in the desert near the US/Mexico border before the owner of a local rescue captured him and brought him to her facility. When I first met Matisse he was living in a round pen. On the way over to trim some horses I phoned the rescue owner to find out which horses were at the top of the list. She wasn’t there, but she gave me the names and told me not to go in the round pen with the big yellow horse. She said he was too dangerous. I couldn’t stand the way his feet looked and I talked her into letting me go in and try to get him trimmed. She hesitated but agreed and told me to be careful. When I approached the pen by the section of fence where he was eating from a pile of hay, he laid his ears back and lunged at the fence. I just stood still until he went back to eating. I went to put my hand on the fence and he laid his ears back and lunged at the fence again. I just stood still and waited for him to go back to eating. Each time I moved he lunged at me but it became less intense each time. Eventually I was scratching him behind the ears as he ate. I decided to go in and when I entered the 50 ft round pen, he charged with his ears laid back and his mouth wide open. I had a rope halter with a 13’ lead in one hand and my trim tools in the other. When he got close enough I waved the rope halter and lead rope at him to redirect his path to my right. He went around me then circled back and charged me again. I waited and redirected his path with the halter and lead again, only this time I sent him to my left. He went around me, circled back and faced me from across the round pen again. This time he came in with a very purposeful walk. His expression was better so I stood still and let him come in. He kept the same pace with his head raised and his long neck arched until his chest stopped against mine. Then he lowered his head and pulled me into his chest with his chin. I gave him a hug back and trimmed him without putting the halter on. His feet looked like they had never been trimmed before…or at least it had been a very long time. He was high heeled and splay footed in the fronts and cowhocked in the hinds and his walls were long and broken out around the lateral toe pillars, but he stood quiet, like a horse that I’d been trimming for years. When I was done I walked toward the gate. My shadow was cast in front of me and I could see the shadow of his head and ears overtaking mine. I hugged him again at the gate and left. When I got home I told my wife that I wanted her to meet a new horse. I didn’t tell her anything else. At that time we had a huge refrigerator magnet that said:

I DON’T NEED ANOTHER HORSE
I DON’T NEED ANOTHER HORSE
I DON’T NEED ANOTHER HORSE
I DON’T NEED ANOTHER HORSE

It was useless. She came with me a day or two later and she sat on the ground outside his pen and fed him grass through the fence while I trimmed some other horses. When I got done I went in his pen and stood in the center. He repeated the same exact behavior as the time before. It was like an instant replay. Stephanie got choked up and said, “We need to take him home.” So we did. Everytime I look back at that moment I smile and think, “Well played, Matisse!”

His feet were a mess but his heart was still intact. He was an elegant mover in spite of his conformation and subsequent hoof distortion. He also deserved an emmy award for his acting ability. He is not scary. That is his gift.

His lesson was never say never, you can always make exceptions to rules when you meet a magnificent horse.