There is one of my herd I did not include in the other 'letters from your horse' thread. His letter goes against the fun tone of that thread, and in life he required 'his own' everything, so I thought now that I'm ready to write it, his letter should have it's own spot.
Do not weep. I did not spend so many nights letting you cry into my mane until I decided you'd wept enough and did something to make you giggle just to have you cry for me now.
You have given me many gifts, in what seems so short a time together.
The gift of caring. No, it was not without rewards for you, but you cared for me. In all weathers, when you were so sick you could barely walk and even when you had your arm in a cast, you cared for me and my herd.
The gift of faith. No matter how easy I made it for you to, or how often you were told you should, you never gave up on me. You began my education as a riding horse, and you taught me manners that made me easy and fun to be around. Every speedbump I put in your way, you crossed, never giving up faith that there was a good horse in me somewhere.
The gift of friendship. You were 'boss mare' to me and my herd, but you were very much an important part of the herd. Aside from the feedings, making sure our troughs were full and the regular grooming and our training, you took the time to just be a part of our herd. We accepted you, and you enjoyed our time just paling around in the pasture as much as our work sessions. We enjoy it too. Especially that you never let our friendship interfere with your roll as boss mare. The rules always applied and were enforced, we horses thank you for that.
And most importantly, you gave me the gift of Love.
I know I was not easy to love. In the beginning I resisted training, fought with you tooth and hoof. But you were gentle yet firm, and I learned that work was not a bad four letter word. You let me go to a new home, and a different trainer to finish my education, sad to see me leave but proud of the horse I was becoming and glad to know I had this chance to shine, even if not for you. When I no longer could perform my duties as a riding horse, you accepted me back with open arms. I have destroyed fences, tack, the tackroom but you always kept loving me.
In the end, you loved me enough to let me go again. Not to a new home this time, but to the blissful oblivion and eternal green pastures beyond it where I would know no more pain. The way I showed you my distress was not ideal. I know it hurt and frustrated you and you struggled with the choice. You thought you were picking the herd's and your safety over me. But you knew, as sudden and extreme as my changes were there had to be something very wrong. Some may have just packed me on a trailer and sent me away for another to deal with. But you made the appointment, and spent the morning grooming me one last time while I ate from my own pile of hay. Then the vet came, you walked with me to the spot I spent so many hours soaking up the sun's warmth, and stayed with me until it was done.
The way I showed you this end was inevitable was gruesome, and for that I am sorry. Take comfort in knowing your choice was not poor or selfish. Please, find peace in knowing I am at peace now, and that I found it on the land I loved, and knew no fear, just as now I no longer know suffering of any kind.
Farewell friend. Love and bliss to thee.
Scoutin' For Trouble ~ gone to join those who went before me Dec 9, 2011
Owned by a Paint/TB and an OTTB.
RIP Scoutin' For Trouble ~ 2011 at 10
RIP Tasha's Last Tango ~ 2010 at ~23
RIP In Sha' Allah ~ 2009 too young at 5
Tears streamimg as i read this. I lost my gelding (my very first horse.....and my heart horse) last July 29th. I hope he knows how much I miss him, and the 2 mares lost before him. Rest in Peace Dusty, Skye, and Duchess.
Scout was a trip. Haffy X Walker. He was only about 10 years old, but to all our surprise he held up to being started at 8, taking me over my first 2ft and up jumps since my teen years, trails, despite before my having met him having injured his sesamoid, and having heavy calcification. He had been sold as a dressage/JPR prospect, but after coming up lame for the first time in my experience with him, for a month, X-Rays were done and we were all shocked.
So he came home. He wasn't a horse anyone could love, he was plain, round, climbed fences/gates, would go through fences if not pastured with Laddie (his sire, who was cut late in life) Knew how to open doors and would raid the tack room. But for all his flaws, he had a lot of personality!
Three days before the decision was made, he attacked my yearling. An all out vicious attack you'd expect to see from a wild band stallion. Took him to the ground and trampled him, was ready to make another pass before I stupidly intervened armed with the only thing I could grab, a shovel. At that point I separated them, he had to be pastured with Laddie, or we risked another episode of fence destruction and who knows what kind of damage. That's when I noticed something was very wrong.
He and Picaro were 'best buds'. Picaro was the ONLY horse he'd allow to eat from the same pile of hay. And he went berserk on him. Laddie, he was so bonded to, he attacked as well, would run him part of the day, and be grazing on the other side of the pasture from him the rest. Then when he lunged at me over the fence at feeding time, and went after Laddie again Thursday night, I'd had enough. His owner and I discussed it at length. Auction was not a fair option to him or anyone else in his future. The changes were so sudden and so dramatic, the only thing I could think of was my safety, my children's safety, the other horse's safety and even Scout's OWN safety. And so Friday morning I made that difficult call.
We knew something had to be going on internally. A tumor, some kind of hormone imbalance. But an unsound horse, that aggressive, it was hard to justify putting the funds and effort into diagnosing and potentially having to put him down anyway. It was the kindest thing we could figure to do for him.
The vet agreed, and was supportive. Leaning towards tumor. About an hour after the vet left, I had my answer. Whether a tumor or some kind of swelling, an anurism ready to blow at any moment even who knows without a necropsy, it was something very wrong in his brain. His last gift to me was showing me the proof of that, as hard as it was to see.
I'm glad we made this choice, and that for the first time in his life Scout did not resist something. He went very easy, quiet and peacefully. I'll miss him. My yearling misses his friend. It was all so fast, from the first episode to the decision.
Here's a few pictures of the big bay booger eater.