My beautiful boy has crossed over. He feels no more pain. Those who have loved him have taken his pain upon them.
Thank you to my COTH friends. I can feel your hugs!!! You are the best! When I get to a real computer I will post a pic of the boy you have helped on his way. He was truly a special friend.
Linny and her boy, "The Bunny"
Resident racing historian ~~~ Re-riders Clique
Founder of the Mighty Thoroughbred Clique
Tomorrow I will send you on a journey, a journey I cannot take with you. You will visit a beautiful farm and wll feel very tired. you will sleep deeply and when you wake, the pain in your legs and feet will be gone. You will ble able to run and play and jump. There will be green grass and big bags of pretzels.
Sleep well, beautiful friend...
Linny, That was beautiful. It got me choked up and made me Think of Ringo, a horse I leased who passed last summer after a heart attack. I posted this on another board at the time. Hope you don't mind if I share this here.
We really didn't know how old you ACTUALLY were, until the equine dentist told your mom that you last adult molars were well in, way in the back of your somewhat long mouth, and that told him that you were 28 or 29. Not the 19 or 20 that the person who sold you to her said. It's been said that a horse will lose a year each time he's sold, so now we know how many times you may have been sold in your long life.
I quit getting on top of you once I found out, but kept on with the lease because I liked you so much. You enjoyed the apples and carrots, horse cookies and groomings, that's for sure. When you saw my car pull up, you would be all attention with bright eyes and pointy-front ears, even though you weren't that fond of me making you pick up your feet for hoof cleaning. But you would do it for me anyway.
We were friends.
Then it got to the point where the vet said that your heart, your great horse heart, was not doing well. Your mom decided that it was time to let you go, and I know she made the right decision. On your last day, so many people came to say goodbye to you. There were pictures taken, but not by me. I have pictures of you with bright eyes and pointy-front ears. I didn't want a photo of you with flaring nostrils, trying to get air that your heart couldn't get to the rest of you. I didn't want a remembrance of you not putting weight on your off hind hoof because the edema was starting to cause laminitis, or your head hung so low, lower lip hanging.
I don't know what horse heaven looks like, but I imagine a field of green grass and sunshine, where all horses are young and strong.
Before everyone else showed up, It was just you and me. Rhetorically (I thought), I told you that you were a good horse and asked you if you knew you were loved.
You nodded your great head.
I miss you.
You are a good horse.
I still miss him.
Founding Member: Spotted Saddlebred Pals Clique
Radar: “Why do women ride sidesaddles?”
Col. Potter: “Would you marry a woman who didn’t?”
TV show: MASH