The morning of December 24, 2004, was bitterly cold. The temperature hovered in the twenties, with a wind chill that made it feel even worse. I piled on every sweater I owned, topped it all off with a massive scarf wrapped around my neck and face, and trudged out to check on the LOPE herd. The horses were cozy under their run-in shelters, happily munching on hay and alfalfa.
LOPE’s farm was still in its early days—just one year old—and everything about running a racehorse charity felt like extreme on-the-job training. Not long ago, I’d been a city office worker in Washington, D.C., and now here I was, running a ranch in Texas. It had been a big leap, to say the least.
Christmas Eve felt like a rare chance to enjoy a quiet day. My husband and I were looking forward to staying warm inside, prepping for Christmas, and taking a break from the whirlwind of the past year.
Then the phone rang.
A race trainer needed a home for a young, unraced Thoroughbred—immediately. The horse had shown no aptitude for the racetrack, and the trainer was eager to move him along before Christmas. Every logical part of me wanted to say no. It was freezing, I was tired, and we had a full barn.
But of course, I said yes.
As we rushed to prepare for the new horse’s arrival, the wind picked up. While checking the front pasture troughs, I spotted something alarming—a mini-geyser bubbling up from the ground. A pipe had burst, likely from the freeze. My husband ran to shut off the water line, but the geyser didn’t stop.
At first, it seemed like a catastrophe, but it turned out to be someone else’s problem—the burst pipe was part of a county water line, not ours. Within 30 minutes, a repair crew arrived, complete with heavy equipment, and the geyser was reduced to a slushy mess. Crisis averted.
Just as the repair crew packed up, a horse trailer pulled into our driveway. Out stepped a sweet-faced bay gelding with wide, curious eyes. His name was Gotcha Muchacho, and he seemed remarkably calm for a horse who had just been uprooted on a freezing Christmas Eve.
Still, I worried. How would we find him a home? The farm was full, it was the holidays, and the cold weather wasn’t exactly inviting for visitors. I figured Gotcha would be with us for months.
That afternoon, the temperature rose to a "balmy" 30 degrees, so we ventured outside to take photos of Gotcha for the LOPE website. He stood patiently, his soft eyes quietly observing my haphazard winter attire. We posted his photos online, not expecting much. Who would be browsing a horse adoption site so close to Christmas?
But as the sun set that evening, I reflected on the day. A frantic phone call, a water leak that wasn’t ours, and a young horse who fit seamlessly into the chaos—what had felt like a series of near-disasters had somehow worked out perfectly.
The next day, Christmas, we were stunned. Someone had seen Gotcha’s photos online that night. Before New Year’s, Gotcha had a new home. His adoption still holds the LOPE record for the fastest rehoming ever.
Renamed Nate, Gotcha became a standout eventing competitor, known for his style and enthusiasm on cross-country courses. But more importantly, Nate became the best friend of Kate, a high school freshman at the time.
“Nate was so special,” Kate recalls. “He was my first ‘big’ competition horse. That first year, we qualified for the American Eventing Championships. He was the perfect partner—always willing, always trying his best. He had such a dorky personality and loved glazed donuts. My trainer called him “Natural Disaster,” and I was nicknamed ‘Katastrophe.’ He was the reason I fell in love with OTTBs—and I’ve never owned anything else since.”
Looking back, that Christmas Eve was like a microcosm of LOPE’s first years: chaotic, unpredictable, and full of surprises. What seemed like an overwhelming challenge turned out to be a perfect holiday tale—with a happy ending for both Gotcha and his new family.
Twenty years later, LOPE has grown and evolved. Our days of last-minute holiday horse arrivals are behind us, but the lessons of those early years remain at the heart of everything we do. Today, our teaching herd of warhorses helps kids learn math, science, and veterinary skills. And while our work looks different now, it’s deeply rooted in the spirit of those early “extreme on-the-job training” days.
This Christmas Eve, we’re sending our heartfelt thanks to all of you—our supporters, friends, and followers. May your holidays be merry, peaceful, and free of surprise water geysers!
Merry Christmas from all of us at LOPE!
