Help Save Ivy– A Horse, a Family, and a Fight for Her Life

My name is Sara Layburn, and I’m reaching out to ask for help with something that breaks my heart to even write.

This is the story of a lifelong love affair with horses—a bond that has followed me through childhood dreams, motherhood, and now, a heartbreaking challenge as my beloved horse Ivy needs veterinary care that I can’t afford alone.

Some people are simply born with a love for horses in their soul—and I’m one of them. My parents never quite understood my deep connection to horses; they just were not horse people, but they did their best to support it when I was young. From pony rides to trick-riding camp to leasing me my first horse as I started high school, they gave me glimpses into the world where I felt most alive.

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A Lifetime of Passion and One Special Mare

I spent every free moment at the barn as a teen, riding anything anyone would let me, just for the chance to be in the saddle. I chose to attend Feather River College for Equine Studies, but the snow, lack of 4WD, and feeling of being unsupported ultimately forced me to leave. Challenges I will make sure my daughter, Grace, will not face when she attends after graduation in 2027.

My life took many turns—away from horses for a time—but that love never went away. I raised my family, and tucked that piece of myself deep away—until a trail ride in Yosemite with my daughter Grace brought it all rushing back. Mid-ride, she turned around and said, “I don’t want to do ballet anymore, Mommy!” I knew what that meant. The legacy was alive in her, too.

Back in Pennsylvania, I found my “family” in a place where I no longer had any. We found Horse N Soul (HNS ). Miss Jen, their barn manager, became one of my closest friends and the heart of our barn family. I began volunteering at the barn all the time —feeding horses in every kind of weather imaginable, organizing and prepping the kids and horses for shows and farrier and veterinary visits, going on countless adventures while getting to share our love of horses.

That’s when we met Ivy, a spirited, red-headed Arabian mare who had come to Jen through her work with Arabian Rescue Mission. Ivy—originally called Dot by Miss Jen—wasn't thriving as a lesson horse. She didn’t trust easily and didn’t adjust well to changing riders. So she spent her time in what we lovingly called the "fat girl field," living a simple, happy life outdoors 24/7 with other “easy keepers.”

When Jen told me Ivy was available for a very reasonable price, I arranged for Grace to take a lesson on her. Despite Ivy looking like she was pregnant with triplets at the time, I saw the opportunity for Grace to learn patience and responsibility with a horse who required trust and care. I made payments, and in August 2019, Ivy officially became a member of our family. Ivy was exactly what I needed in my life—fiery, smart, loyal, and fiercely herself.

We spent the next few years riding Ivy, both with Grace in Hunter/Jumper shows, and I had the joy of riding with all our wonderful riding partners at HNS and the surrounding barns on the trails.

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A New Chapter in California — Reuniting Two Sisters

In 2022, our family decided to move back to California. My mother’s husband was ready to retire to his dream mountain cabin and had found their perfect property in the Sierra foothills. It had space for two horses and a house for my daughter and me, as my boys were both off to start their new adult lives. But we couldn’t take Ivy alone.

We started searching for a companion, and by what I can only describe as fate, we found Cleo—Ivy’s sister. They had both been rescued from the same herd years ago but were placed in separate homes and had not seen each other since.

In January 2022, we purchased Cleo and began preparing for the move. I sold my house and everything else we possibly could to make the move. I traded in my truck for a bigger one and bought a 3-horse trailer with a weekender living quarters, packed them with my three kids, two horses, two dogs, a cat, and everything else we could squeeze in, and began our 18-day, 15-state journey across the country, making 1,000 memories.

We stayed at horse motels, (we didn’t even know they existed, but met wonderful horse people at every one) trail rode in places like South Dakota among groups of Elk and Montana where we stayed in a yurt that had a dog kennel and someone to monitor the horses while we explored everything from PBR, to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons National Parks, and arrived in Nevada County exhausted but proud.

Thanks to the welcoming Gold Country Trail Council, we discovered scenic new rides thanks to some wonderful long-time members, connected with horse-friendly communities, and began building a new life.

Since then we rode in our first parade, took the girls to the ocean in Bodega Bay, Ivy won myself and even a friend’s granddaughter some ribbons in gymkhana with the Penn Valley Community Rodeo Association last year, we frequented our favorite deli on horseback at Harmony Ridge, and explored trails from the coast to the Sierras, enjoying every moment together—until our world turned upside down.

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This Summer Was Supposed to Be Ours

After a long winter, I was working diligently to repair the trailer that had numerous leaks—resealed the roof seams and vents, replaced the A/C unit, and removed mold from both the horse compartment and living quarters. We purchased a portable corral kit and made plans to camp and trail ride in Tahoe and Shasta.

This was supposed to be the summer we’d waited for.

Instead, everything stopped.

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Ivy’s Sudden Decline

On July 2, Grace came running with Ivy in tow. Ivy had lost over 100 pounds in just a couple of weeks. Her spine and hind end were skeletal, her rectum prolapsed, and her belly was swollen with fluid. Her normally expressive face looked hollow.

I called the emergency vet immediately. Bloodwork showed dangerously low protein levels and possible gastrointestinal disease or cancer. An ultrasound revealed severely thickened colon walls (11–12mm instead of 3mm). X-rays ruled out any sand in the GI tract. They performed rectal biopsies but wouldn’t send the samples until the bill was paid in full: $2,491. I paid $400 in cash from my last unemployment check, leaving $1,991 due—and no test results until about a week after it’s paid.

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Supporting Ivy with Everything I Can

While we wait in limbo, I’m doing everything I can from home. We have gone back to giving her supplements from 100x Equine, as well as anything else we know to use. She gets several smaller meals throughout the day, and we are hand walking her and using an Equi laser to help her edema.

Every day is a balancing act between making her comfortable and keeping her strong enough to fight.

Meanwhile, her sister Cleo won’t leave her side. They call to one another when apart. They share a bond I can’t begin to describe, and Cleo seems to know something is very wrong, and I don’t know how she would do without her protector.

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What We’re Facing

Ivy is still with us, fighting. She’s eating senior pelleted feed in small meals 3-6 times a day, receiving pre/probiotics, psyllium, and herbal supplements. We resumed Banamine for comfort once kidney function was cleared.

We’ve been told that if the biopsy is positive, it’s likely cancer. If it’s negative, we’ll need more testing and care. Meanwhile, she’s hanging on—and the only thing that the vet has offered is estimates on future care. They haven’t even called to see how she is doing; therefore, I am searching for someone else to look at her as well.

Projected veterinary costs based on estimates given in their office:

$1,991 – Balance to release biopsy results

$1,950 – Ongoing meds and follow-up visits

$2,800 – Possible euthanasia (depending on time)

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Please Help Us Give Ivy a Fighting Chance

Although I am still looking for work, I’m doing anything I can to get quick cash. I’m doing DoorDash in Reno, cleaning houses in Kingsbury on Sundays (both more than an hour drive for me), and feeding my kids through food banks to put every possible dollar toward Ivy’s care. But DoorDash is unpredictable, and the truth is—I cannot do this alone.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do—ask for help. I’ve spent my life doing things on my own. I don’t take asking lightly, but Ivy is my best friend, my partner, my healer—and she saved me more than once. Now she needs us. Ivy means so much to my family.

And I am not ready to say goodbye.

If you’ve ever loved a horse, you understand. If you can give $1, $5, anything at all. It will help us cover her balance, get answers, and fight for her life.

Thank you for reading Ivy’s story, for caring, and for standing with us through this. Even just sharing this means the world.

With deepest gratitude,

Sara Layburn

Nevada City, CA