My horse died.
When the surgeon walked out covered in his blood, I understood that it was real - that he was really dead, really gone. But it's only now, a week later, that it's starting to sink in. I'm not hysterical any more, not spontaneously crying. I'm just sad. Everything seems like a chore. I don't want to do anything. I feel very lost. He was the love and light of my life, and I thought about him all the time. When the weather changed, I thought about his blankets. On sunny days, I thought about how much fun he would be having outside. I never went to the grocery store without buying him apples. I broke down crying in Loblaws when I walked past the produce. Seriously.
I don't come from a horsey family, but I was *the* horse crazy kid. I begged my parents for lessons and after a few years of one week of riding camp in the summers - they gave in. Paying for the lessons and driving out of the city was a big chore for them, and I was well aware of it. I got part time jobs to pay for part boarding, and then scrimped and saved $6500 to buy Ivan. That's a lot of money for a 16 year old making minimum wage. He was older, 11 years old, and had the beginnings of arthritis. That's why I could afford him. Ivan had been bought and sold 6 times in his 11 years, and once he was mine I could not understand why.
He was so dead broke and jumped everything I pointed him at. I remember when I first brought him home to the riding stable I first boarded him at. He stood with his tail to the door, and I had to go in and grab him to take him out. He warmed up to be a very affectionate horse once he realised that he and I were sticking together. I taught him to give kisses and it was his very favourite trick. It's amazing that I didn't teach him to break people's noses - since I rewarded him for touching his nose to my lips. But he was always a gentleman to handle.
I started off a nervous rider and learned to be strong and confident. He taught me basic dressage and let me polish my equitation. He did a funny groan when I picked a particularly bad distance, and I thought it was his way of saying "oh dear. what WOULD you do without me to look after you?!"
We had several great show seasons together before his hocks weren't up to serious jumping anymore. At that time, he became a champion 2ft hunter for a little girl. He took that job very seriously and seeing a 17.3hh warmblood and 100lb girl clock around a course of speed bumps was a wonderful sight.
After his season of schooling show pro, I took him up to a farm north of the city to be a horse. It has 60 acre fields, and I joked that he was living the bachelor lifestyle. He came in at night in bad weather, and twice a day to eat. He was fat and glossy. I saw him three or four times a week to give him kisses and once in a while, hop on for a little hack.
I had come to grips with the fact that he was a pet, and not a show horse. He was very healthy and very happy. The barn owner always said he was 18 going on three years old, because he loved to play. He was supposed to be in my wedding pictures, and I was going to ride him while I was pregnant.
Last Tuesday night, I got a call from the barn owner saying that my love looked a bit colicy. I was stressed out from work, and had a little cry on the way up, but thought that he would be fine. The vet came, and then came again. And then another vet. And then a trip to the clinic for observation. And then exploratory surgery. And then his blood pressure was dangerously low. And then, his spleen was hemoraghing and his colon was displaced and there was nothing more they could do. It was an absolutely surreal nightmare.
I'm trying to stay positive. I made all the cautious decisions. The local vet came twice and when I wasn't comfortable with what he said, my vet came from an hr away. Sure, we'll take him for observation. Of course we'll try surgery. I know I did everything I could for him.
I am thankful that he didn't suffer for very long. He was happy and healthy and loved his wild horse life in retirement.
I am thankful that I was spared the difficult decision of letting go. That choice was made for me.
And I am so, so blessed that I had him in my life. Everything that is good about me I learned from my horse. He taught me patience, because when I lost my temper on him he always forgave me. He taught me responsibility, because it is not easy for a 17 year old to pay a horse's bills. He taught me to believe in myself, because he always believed in me. He showed me that I was good at something, and that anything is possible. If, as a teenager, I could have my own horse and be a good rider with minimal support from my suburban parents - then the sky was the limit.
I want to stop having nightmares about saying goodbye to him. I want to be in the place where I just remember jogging in for our ribbons, our wonderful hacks, his cute face looking up from the roundbales, the way his velvety nose smelled when I kissed it.
Please, go give your special horse a big kiss from me. Consciously, everyone knows that life is fragile. It's not until this happened to me that I could fully grasp how precarious life is.
When the surgeon walked out covered in his blood, I understood that it was real - that he was really dead, really gone. But it's only now, a week later, that it's starting to sink in. I'm not hysterical any more, not spontaneously crying. I'm just sad. Everything seems like a chore. I don't want to do anything. I feel very lost. He was the love and light of my life, and I thought about him all the time. When the weather changed, I thought about his blankets. On sunny days, I thought about how much fun he would be having outside. I never went to the grocery store without buying him apples. I broke down crying in Loblaws when I walked past the produce. Seriously.
I don't come from a horsey family, but I was *the* horse crazy kid. I begged my parents for lessons and after a few years of one week of riding camp in the summers - they gave in. Paying for the lessons and driving out of the city was a big chore for them, and I was well aware of it. I got part time jobs to pay for part boarding, and then scrimped and saved $6500 to buy Ivan. That's a lot of money for a 16 year old making minimum wage. He was older, 11 years old, and had the beginnings of arthritis. That's why I could afford him. Ivan had been bought and sold 6 times in his 11 years, and once he was mine I could not understand why.
He was so dead broke and jumped everything I pointed him at. I remember when I first brought him home to the riding stable I first boarded him at. He stood with his tail to the door, and I had to go in and grab him to take him out. He warmed up to be a very affectionate horse once he realised that he and I were sticking together. I taught him to give kisses and it was his very favourite trick. It's amazing that I didn't teach him to break people's noses - since I rewarded him for touching his nose to my lips. But he was always a gentleman to handle.
I started off a nervous rider and learned to be strong and confident. He taught me basic dressage and let me polish my equitation. He did a funny groan when I picked a particularly bad distance, and I thought it was his way of saying "oh dear. what WOULD you do without me to look after you?!"
We had several great show seasons together before his hocks weren't up to serious jumping anymore. At that time, he became a champion 2ft hunter for a little girl. He took that job very seriously and seeing a 17.3hh warmblood and 100lb girl clock around a course of speed bumps was a wonderful sight.
After his season of schooling show pro, I took him up to a farm north of the city to be a horse. It has 60 acre fields, and I joked that he was living the bachelor lifestyle. He came in at night in bad weather, and twice a day to eat. He was fat and glossy. I saw him three or four times a week to give him kisses and once in a while, hop on for a little hack.
I had come to grips with the fact that he was a pet, and not a show horse. He was very healthy and very happy. The barn owner always said he was 18 going on three years old, because he loved to play. He was supposed to be in my wedding pictures, and I was going to ride him while I was pregnant.
Last Tuesday night, I got a call from the barn owner saying that my love looked a bit colicy. I was stressed out from work, and had a little cry on the way up, but thought that he would be fine. The vet came, and then came again. And then another vet. And then a trip to the clinic for observation. And then exploratory surgery. And then his blood pressure was dangerously low. And then, his spleen was hemoraghing and his colon was displaced and there was nothing more they could do. It was an absolutely surreal nightmare.
I'm trying to stay positive. I made all the cautious decisions. The local vet came twice and when I wasn't comfortable with what he said, my vet came from an hr away. Sure, we'll take him for observation. Of course we'll try surgery. I know I did everything I could for him.
I am thankful that he didn't suffer for very long. He was happy and healthy and loved his wild horse life in retirement.
I am thankful that I was spared the difficult decision of letting go. That choice was made for me.
And I am so, so blessed that I had him in my life. Everything that is good about me I learned from my horse. He taught me patience, because when I lost my temper on him he always forgave me. He taught me responsibility, because it is not easy for a 17 year old to pay a horse's bills. He taught me to believe in myself, because he always believed in me. He showed me that I was good at something, and that anything is possible. If, as a teenager, I could have my own horse and be a good rider with minimal support from my suburban parents - then the sky was the limit.
I want to stop having nightmares about saying goodbye to him. I want to be in the place where I just remember jogging in for our ribbons, our wonderful hacks, his cute face looking up from the roundbales, the way his velvety nose smelled when I kissed it.
Please, go give your special horse a big kiss from me. Consciously, everyone knows that life is fragile. It's not until this happened to me that I could fully grasp how precarious life is.
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