By Brianna Navarro
I knew Teddy had Equine Complex Vertebral Malformation (ECVM) when I bought him. It showed up on the X-rays of his neck.
I wasn’t very familiar with it, but I did my research… it seemed like such a small thing, a little missing piece of bone here, an added piece of bone there. A radiologist reviewed the films, and the report concluded that the findings were “low risk.” I read the literature, too;ECVM is “not associated with clinical signs or other radiological abnormalities.”
I’d already fallen in love, and from what I’d read, this didn’t seem like a big deal.
So, I bought Teddy, and I had big aspirations: riding him in the Grand Prix one day, beach trips and trail rides… a long and beautiful journey where he’d be mine for years and years to come. When I looked at pictures of my young, exuberant boy, I thought about how sweet it would be to look back in twenty years on the long journey we’d shared together.
All of that changed in a matter of months. It started with a fall; Teddy collapsed under saddle. Then, in the next weeks came explosive bolting and blind panic out of nowhere. I dismissed this as him just being a silly five-year-old. Isn’t this what five-year-olds do? He just needed muscle. Boundaries. Training.
But as his workload increased to five days a week, Teddy only got worse. He tossed his head nonstop, stumbled, and couldn’t hold a gait. He’d move his neck and suddenly bolt like he’d been shocked.
I stopped riding him, but his symptoms still worsened.
He didn’t seem to know where his feet were. He struggled to eat hay off the ground and would only eat for small amounts of time before he had to take a break to lift his head, and he had Grade 4 ulcers that I couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard I tried or how much money I spent.
Something was very wrong, and all I could think about was that little hidden neck abnormality that hadn’t seemed like a big deal when I bought him. I started researching again. As it turns out, that “little” bone malformation changes everything – it can affect the ribs, it distorts all the muscle attachments, the soft tissue, the nerves. So, why does all the published science refute that? Why aren’t people talking about this? Screaming about it?
I took him to another state to get a CT scan of his neck, which confirmed my worst fears: at just five years old, Teddy had severe arthritis and spinal cord compression, also known as Wobblers syndrome.
Teddy struggled with the farrier, almost fell when I picked his feet, and I even stopped hand walking him because he would stagger and nearly fall. He got aggressive, bit his pasture mate, tried to kick me, stumbled, fell, and limped. I worried about him interacting with barn staff. I consulted with vets, ECVM experts, surgeons at UC Davis, trainers… anyone I could talk to, I did. The consensus was clear: surgery wasn’t likely to be successful, and there’s no magic cure for spinal cord compression.
There was nothing to be done. I began to count down our days together.
I visited Teddy every day while I was still lucky enough to have him in my life, bringing him carrots, apples, and pears. We went on trail walks while he was still well enough to do them. He lived outside and played joyously with his best friend, Sonny. I did everything I could to make his time here as good as it could be.
When the day came to say goodbye, I took him to a shaded lush green pasture. The skies were blue and sunny after weeks of rain – it was like it was meant to be. He laid gently among the pines in the grass, and a soft breeze passed over us as he left this world. It sounds strange to say, but it was beautiful. Peaceful.
Despite the heartache and hardship, Teddy was a joy and a gift. He taught me more in the eight short months he was with me than I have learned in the entire rest of my 31 years with horses. It’s an understatement to say that this journey challenged everything I thought I knew about horses. Teddy opened my eyes to a whole new version of being a horse owner and a steward for the animals we all love.
I realized how much is missing in the horse world: the lack of veterinary science-backed research into conditions like ECVM and Wobblers, the lack of educational opportunities for the average horse person by qualified equine professionals, and the expense and anxiety of navigating equine neurological issues. No one should be alone in this journey, without resources, without education.
I grieved, but then I got angry. Someone had to do something. When I didn’t see anyone else doing it, I decided it had to be me.
I poured myself into founding a nonprofit, which I called Teddy’s Legacy. I went on podcasts and shared Teddy’s story, and recruited a board of people who’ve been through similar journeys. We hosted Celeste Lazaris for a clinic on her Balance Through Movement Method, and she donated 100% of the proceeds to Teddy’s Legacy. We started a silent auction, asked for sponsorships, created Facebook pages, shared ECVM triumphs and tribulations on TikTok, and began to foster a community of like-minded equestrians. Our mission resonated with people. We raised money, and we started a grant to support diagnostics like CT myelograms for people who can’t afford it. I hope that through our work, Teddy’s legacy lives on.
My own journey continues on, too. When Teddy was diagnosed with Wobblers, I swore I’d never have another horse, never ride again, and quit all my dressage dreams. But while I wandered on our walks in Teddy’s last days, I met a horse, alone in a field. Something drew me to him – it was like our souls spoke to each other. I asked his owner if I could ride him, and she told me, “Well, you can try.” He’s not easy, she said. He bolts. No one’s been able to figure him out. I’d always dreamed of a big, beautiful, sleek Warmblood, and here was this furry Gypsy Vanner with sweet itch, a roached mane, and a western saddle.
We clicked instantly. I think we found each other when we both needed it most. We blossomed together. His mane grew and my grief eased. He helped me remember why I love dressage so much – and just a few months after I swore I’d never have a horse again, I bought him. He’s my new “forever.”
It’s not the journey I thought I’d have, but it’s not a journey I regret. Teddy changed my life, and Zephyr helped fill the void of his absence. While I hope to climb the levels with Zephyr and show that Gypsy Vanners can be great at dressage, I have other goals now, too – helping others, being the best horse owner I can be, and making sure Zephyr is happy. I even started my own training program rooted in classical dressage and harmony between horse and rider. I called it Unity Equestrian, because I think unity is what we all should strive for. My logo is, of course, Teddy.
I’m on a mission to change the world, and I owe it all to Teddy.
You can learn more at teddyslegacy.org.
