By Andrea Ball, American Statesman Staff
Photography by Larry Kolvoord
Austin American Statesman, November 15, 2005

This is the ohituary of Toby the horse, a miniature buckskin who snored loudly, slept on the couch, slippe&through dog doors and nosed around strangers' purses for candy.

Most horses don't get their own obituaries: Except maybe Mr. Ed or Seabiscuit or that horse that played the Black Stallion in the Hollywood movie.

But Toby was different. The gelding, who stood 22 inches tall, was the inspiration behind Hearts & Hooves, a nonprofit that uses miniature horses to provide comfort and joy to the ill, infirm, disabled and victimized.

Toby died Friday. He was 4.

"His sensitivity was incredible," said Veronique Matthews, Toby's owner. "It didn't matter what species he was helping. It could have been an injured animal or a person. Toby had a way of working his way into the hearts of so many."

Toby was born May 13, 2001, at a miniature horse farm in Caldwell County. A genetic disorder called dwarfism had given him a bowed back, a potbelly and club feet. Many such dwarfs are euthanized.

Not Toby. Matthews, who visited the farm shortly after Toby's birth, simply had to have him. She and her son bought him for $100.

When they took him home, Toby weighed 40 pounds and could not walk well. Eventually, Toby's legs improved and his popularity soared. Wherever he went, people smiled and stopped to touch him.

"The transformation in people was just amazing," she said.

In January 2002, Hearts & Hooves was horn. Tohy and Matthews visited nursing homes, hospices, psychiatric hospitals and rehabilitation centers. Sometimes the horse walked alongside the patients as they exercised. Other times, he climbed right in bed with them.

Today the nonprofit has 20 miniature horses and visits hundreds of locations a year. But Toby always remained a fan favorite.

"Toby was definitely a favorite because he was such a snuggler," said Kelly Alien, activities director for Heartland Health Care Center. "You don't get the opportunity to snuggle with a horse very often."

Elaine Shipman, 60, was living in a hospice care facility when she met Toby. Shipman, who has multiple sclerosis, was confined to bed and barely clinging to life. Doctors expected her to die.

Then one day, Toby climbed on Shipman's bed, laid his head on her pillow and went to sleep beside her. "I just thought I'd gone to heaven," said Shipman, who now lives in Georgia. "I already love horses, and to have one right there in my room with me was so special."

That was Toby's therapeutic side.

"I'd just tuck him in with a blanket, and he'd sleep for hours," she said.

Over the past year, Toby settled into a quiet life on the farm. Although many miniature horses can live almost 40 years, Toby struggled with health problems that sidelined him early. He walked slowly, struggled to breathe and had tooth and sinus problems.

Matthews suspects he died of a heart attack.

In addition to Matthews, Toby is survived by close friends including Chester the miniature horse and Charlie the standard poodle; the three cats that slept on him; and legions of fans.

aball"at"statesman.com; 912-2506