“My name is Josh Kennedy, and I have been blind from birth due to retinopathy of prematurity.”

Horses have been a part of my life since childhood, when I started riding in therapeutic programs at eight years old. Two years ago, when my son began taking lessons at a local farm, I went with him. There, I spent a lot of time with a miniature horse, learning about it and even getting to walk on its right side as if it were a guide horse. Compared to a guide dog I encountered on a field trip several years ago, I immediately trusted the mini much more as a guide—even though it was being led.
I’ve since spent countless hours working with horses and ponies, learning to communicate with them through my sense of touch, my voice, and even through breath contact. When I walked horses back to the pasture after lessons, I noticed them instinctively guiding me in the direction of the pasture without any explicit training to guide a blind person. For me, building trust and a deep bond with horses isn’t just rewarding; it’s essential. Horses are calm, gentle, and seem to instinctively adjust to my blindness in ways that other animals, like dogs or cats, simply don’t. I’ve tried to connect with dogs, but their energy, unpredictable movements, and shorter lifespans just aren’t a good fit for me.

What draws me to the idea of having a guide horse is much more than just practical mobility. Not only will I have more precise navigation than what I would get with a dog, but with a horse, I can build a relationship grounded in mutual trust and understanding, using the sensory ways I interact with the world. Guide horses are steady, live much longer than dogs, and—most importantly—they offer the kind of emotional support and companionship I truly need as a blind person.