Some ladies at the yard were chatting about supporting a local charity dressage competition, and on a whim we decided to enter Dolly. She ended up in three tests: the walk–trot with me, the walk–trot again with Elise, and the prelim with my dear friend Julia — someone who had been an important part of Dolly’s life from the start.

As far as I knew, Dolly had never competed before. Elise and I certainly hadn’t. Thankfully, Julia had, and on the day she handled the entries, numbers, and all the overwhelming little details like an absolute pro. She was a star.

We each practiced in the weeks beforehand and hitched a lift with a lovely lady from our previous yard. It all felt light-hearted — just something fun to do together.

I was the first to ride. Dolly was an angel. All the mounting issues we’d struggled with in the past were forgotten. She stood quietly, set off willingly, and tried her heart out for me. I was a nervous rider by then, worried her powerful trot would roll into canter and I’d fall off. Even so, we scored 57% in the walk–trot. Respectable, considering I rode half the test like I had the handbrake on.

Afterwards, I went to help Elise warm Dolly up in the collecting ring. Elise rode a beautiful, forward working trot — the kind that makes you think, wow, that horse feels good today. But when she came back to me, her face had changed.

In that quiet little voice of hers, she said she didn’t want to warm up anymore.

It took a moment before she told me why. Another rider had looked at her and said:

“Little girl on a big horse. Dangerous.”

My heart dropped. Elise was willful, yes — but she was also delicate. And she adored Dolly. That comment had landed right where it hurt.

I told her firmly, “You did a beautiful working trot. You are not dangerous. Go and warm your horse up.”

With a bit of encouragement, she gathered herself, rode back into the space, and quietly did exactly that.

Then she went into the arena and won the walk–trot.

Over 60%. Eighteen competitors. All adults on their own horses. And she beat me and Dolly into fifth place — she was simply the better rider.

It was one of the proudest moments of my life. Not because of the rosettes, but because Dolly carried her with such kindness, and Elise rose above something that would have crushed many adults.

The trust between them was real. And everyone watching could see it.

Read the full story of Dolly & Elise’s journey here.