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     Some may say that I write a lot about the death of animals but I prefer to think that I celebrate their lives by painting a picture of the way they lived, their personalities and some of the experiences we shared along the way. So I start this story by saying, “yes, a horse dies at the end of the tale.” But the story is much more than that. Is it an emotional story that might make you cry? Maybe, but it will also make you smile in places because this was one obstinate little mare that could be filled with love for you one moment and the next moment the devil would take up residence inside her and make her do things completely opposite of caring a hoot about you. With Kate, you never knew what to expect. From the look I grew accustomed to seeing in her eye, I don’t think she knew how she would act until it happened and then she would follow through with all she had.

     Kate was a gift for my son Matt on Father’s day. Yeah, I used to give him gifts on Father’s day as well as receive them. See, I figured without him, I wouldn’t be celebrating this hallmark day. She was purchased in Indiana during Matt’s sixth year and was his first horse. She was what is called a tri-colored Paint mare. This means she was white, brown and black but mostly white. She was probably around nineteen to twenty years old. The person that had her said she was nine years old but didn’t know I was fair at aging a horse from their teeth. She was also starting to show some arthritis in her left front leg. But, she was brown-eyed beauty.

     I might as well admit it is a stretch to call Kate a horse and I do so only because of the size of her heart not her stature.  Kate was only 13-3 hands high. So, officially, she was a pony. In the horse world, a hand equals four inches or about the width of four fingers held together. Kate was 13 hands plus three fingers tall at the withers. To be a considered a horse, she would have had to be fourteen hands tall. Her heart made her eighteen hands high and she would proudly let you know it. Most ponies are that way. They have little person syndrome. They make up for size with tons of attitude. I figured she was small enough for Matt to handle and large enough for me to ride for the occasional attitude adjustment. That ended up being a questionable belief on my part.

     The day I gave Kate to Matt was a nice day for the time of year, not too hot and a little breezy. You could see the surprise in his eyes as he accepted responsibility for her future. I saddled her up with the new saddle I had bought for the occasion and Matt rode her that day around the barn lot. I led, given that Matt was a novice, but he rode. I had a lot of fun watching this process, so much fun that at the end of his ride, I decided that I wanted to ride her too.

     Did I bother to tell you that I had had my forth knee surgery two days prior to Father’s Day? I didn’t think so. Looking back on my decision to ride Kate that day, I can say it wasn’t a good idea. However I didn’t have the gift of hindsight at the moment, I just loved riding horses. I couldn’t get my leg high enough to get in the saddle, so I led her up beside a hay bunker, made my way up onto the hay bunker and got in the saddle. And then, as Matt says, “the rodeo ride started”.

     It is funny how things like this happen in slow motion and you remember each move that was made. I didn’t much more than get my seat and she started. She did not want this one legged fat man on her back. She had participated in the pony show and let us take pictures but her day was over.  I pulled her in and she twisted out, she bowed her back, crow hopped and squealed like a wounded pig. And, believe it or not, in the background, I heard… laughter. Yep, laughter! Since no one but my son and I were there, I had no question in my mind who was laughing. She cut a quick spin to the right and unceremoniously dumped me on the ground. I couldn’t hold on through that spin because I couldn’t use that leg to grip her side. And, when she threw me, I landed right on the recently repaired leg. The knee of my jeans were soon soaked with blood. I didn’t do what I wanted to do at the moment. Instead, I gathered her up, got squarely in her face and told her to remember this day because we would have round two and I would be ready for her. Well, that is more or less what I said. The laughter and smirking continued from her fan.  And thus began my relationship with this hard headed little horse that I grew to love and appreciate for being exactly what she was and no more. The relationship would span almost seven years.

Chapter Two

     Kate took to Matt and him to her in quick order. They became inseparable. He would groom and talk and she would listen and stand. She got along with him just fine. She did not get along with other horses very well and that is an understatement. She would boss, squeal and try her best to be the dominate horse no matter where we put her or who we put her up against. I had to give it to her; she was full of try and possessed no give. She didn’t always succeed but she was always in the thick of the mix. The latter were lessons I hoped my son would learn from her.

     Other than her arthritis, Kate seemed quite a healthy horse. The arthritis did become a problem later that limited her somewhat but never got her down. Well, it did get her down on farrier day occasionally. Kate’s knee hurt so bad that at times that she would lie on the ground to have her feet trimmed. A horse has to have a lot of trust to do that and Kate did become trusting. Our farrier, Ron, developed a way to trim her without lifting her foot too high. It did require him to practically stand on his head but he never seemed to mind. That was one of the things I like about Ron, his love for horses trumped his need for money, a lesson others should learn.

     Matt’s relationship with Kate took a temporary step-back one beautiful fall day. We had some friends out for the day and everyone had been riding horses and having fun. Matt had been on Kate. The day was winding down on a good note for everybody. We had taken the saddle and other tack off Kate when Matt said he wanted to ride her bareback. Well, I tried to dissuade him for doing that, as he had never ridden bareback. That was a failure on my part. I used to give lessons and you always start off bareback in order to learn balance. He had learned to hang on and ride but not balance. So, in the famous last words of many before me, I said, “what the heck, go ahead.” It turned out to be another of those days where Kate had decided her day was over, she had played her part well and this particular pony show was over. Matt got on her but she wouldn’t do anything, just stood there with that defiant look in her eye that I had grown accustomed to seeing. So, what is a good Father to do? I smacked her on the butt and off she went, into the sunset at a gallop with the boy hanging on for dear life. Not knowing how to balance, he started listing to starboard, slid off, hit the ground and bounced three times. I stood there with my mouth agape, emotionally flooding over with feelings of guilt like most good Fathers would.

   I picked up Matt, dried tears, caught Kate and made Matt mount back up. This was no small feat but must be done whenever you fall off. Afterwards, I had Jodi, a good friend who was there for the day, ride the wheels off the little mare to teach her the day wasn’t over until we said the day was over. Jodi got the duties that day because even under the circumstances, I didn’t want Kate carrying my extra weight on her knee. We didn’t have any more problems…ever… during riding settings. That was actually a slight. I think Kate learned something that day; her actions could hurt someone dear to her. The pecking order had been established. Matt was the boss and Jennifer, my wife with the big heart for misunderstood animals was second. Me? Well I stood some where in right field doing pirouettes and picking at blades of grass. At least I was acknowledged and in the picture. And, by the way, I did get round two in by riding Kate one day. Surprisingly, we did not have a problem. I would like to think she knew I was one hundred percent this time and didn’t want to test me. But, for all I knew, she could have taken pity on me and didn’t want to hurt me again. You never knew with Kate.

 Chapter Three

          I guess a truce of sorts was reached that day because we never had another issue when it was time to work, ride or be tended to by Farriers or Veterinarians. Kate was always compliant. She would still get that look in her eye but she never followed through. Her relationship with Matt deepened and spread. She turned out to be the horse that I had hoped for when I brought her home.

          Now, I never said the same truce she had with us applied to other horses, dogs, cats or birds. Kate would pin her ears back and squeal at anything moving if it violated her space. Kate’s space included wherever she could see. She would chase all of the above-mentioned animals with an angry eye if they provoked her by coming too close or sometimes just for looking at her. I remember one time she chased a full size coyote that was on the other side of the fence and well away from her but close enough for her to feel her space intruded upon. She reminded me of a blue jay directing traffic at a bird feeder, letting the others know when they had had enough to eat or when they should leave. If there ever was a Napoleonic little horse, it was Kate. Fortunately, other animals caught the wrath of Kate but not humans. With us, she became an easy keeper.

          I have often written about horse personalities and am convinced that each and every one of them has their own unique traits. Some of my loyal readers will know my feelings concerning horses (and other animals) and know my belief that each one is different. They possess gifts, abilities, feelings and intelligence that we do not realize because we, as a race, made a move some centuries ago to put our trust in science rather than the spiritual side of our existence. I am not bad mouthing science but making sure you understand my belief in balance of thought. Sometimes things just are as they are and do not need to be explained.

          I can’t remember the year but Kate was located in a pasture with three other horses behind our house. She was bossing quite well too, thank you very much. Matt would get his lawn chair and walk to the fence. He would take his children’s Bible, which was a gift at birth from his God Parents, with him. Kate would see him and walk to the fence and hang her head as he read bible stories to her. No other horse would intrude on this union. It was her time with her master. The other horses knew Kate and knew better than to get nosy. This is not a normal occurrence in the horse world. One comes, the other’s wanted to know why and they come too. It didn’t matter how long he read, she would hang her head, relax, get that far-away look in her eye and listen to the cadence of his voice. This would happen on a regular basis and she would never fail to come and listen nor tire of the stories. After all these years, I am very thankful that I not only have the picture in my mind but I have one to show you. Thanks for the memories Katie.

 Chapter Four

          Early in Kate’s seventh year with us, I noticed some things about her that were troubling me. Sometimes she would stumble where she was normally a sure-footed little mare. Other times, when she was sleeping or deeply relaxing, she would fall to her knees. Horses normally sleep standing up with three legs locked in position and one rear leg cocked upward but still touching the ground. It is not normal for a horse to fall, just doesn’t happen. So I began to watch her more closely.

          When you think something is wrong with a horse, you look for classic signs. Katie did not show any of them. She wasn’t in apparent distress; her respirations, breathing and temperature were normal. Her appetite and water consumption were normal, Her bowels and urine were normal. In other words she appeared to be doing just fine, except she sometimes fell down when sleeping.

I have had a great working relationship with Veterinarians both in my home area and the Lexington area. So, I started making phone calls inquiring about the possibility of horses being diagnosed with narcolepsy. To my surprise I found out that horses could have it just like humans. No one I talked to was convinced that she had it because it only happen when she was already sleeping and never (that I witnessed) at other times. Given that she was apparently healthy otherwise we decided to watch her closely. There was little they could do even if she did have narcolepsy other than say she had it.

          We went through spells during that year when things seemed normal and other times where we would see her stumble or fall while sleeping, a couple of times a day. All other signs were normal. The one day when we were eating dinner, the doors and windows were open and we heard a very loud crash from outside. We thought there had been an accident and everyone looked outside. We couldn’t see anything amiss. No apparent accident, and all the horses were accounted for and grazing. Another one of those unexplainable occurrences that sometime happens, then again, maybe not.

          About three weeks later, it happens once again and once again we went outside to see what had made the noise. Everything looked normal except for Kate. She was barely able to hold her head up and was real wobbly. I went out into the field to check on her and it was quite apparent that she could not see me. She had a small cut on her head and from the way she was acting, she couldn’t see a thing. She wouldn’t blink when I put my finger on her eye and would not focus on anything. Further investigation revealed a big dent in the side of the run-in shed where she had shelter from the weather and sun. She had apparently gone blind, panicked and ran into the shed full speed. It is a wonder she didn’t break her neck. I made a quick call to the Vet and put her in a stall.

   By the time the Vet arrived, Katie was once again acting her old self. She did not show any signs of blindness. We talked about all the symptoms she had been exhibiting and nothing made sense. He thought she may have been spooked by something (like a snake) and darted into the shed, knocking herself loopy. It was possible and I wish that were what happened but it wasn’t. After making sure that she could see, I put her back out and into a pasture by herself. Two days later, it happened again.

          Unfortunately, this would be the last time. I once again called the Veterinarian and he came for another examination. Before he arrived, she had a seizure and trembled violently but for a short period of time. While checking her, she had another. She wasn’t blind but something neurological was going on in the poor girls brain. Given her advancing age, the advice was to put her to sleep. I paid and thanked him and told him I would let him know what I decided later.

   Then, the phone calls started. I consulted with every animal doc I knew and was told the same thing by all. It was time and she could make it worse by hurting herself and suffering the pain or hurting someone else while having a seizure. Something was going on that could not be fixed.

   Well folks, I guess it was time to man up. I had to deliver the news to the two other people that loved this little hard-headed mare deeply that it was time to let her go. The tears flowed freely from everyone. I think this is one of the hardest jobs that a parent can do but it is a job that any parent that encourages their children to include animals in the family has to perform. If you have pets, you will deliver this news eventually. Our yard is dotted with the graves of beloved pets; dogs, cats and turtles. Words have been spoken over all of them and the words have always been heartfelt. This was harder for me. This was my son’s first horse and he grew up with her. I, like my wife and son was devastated.

Chapter Five

          The time was set for the Vet to attend to Kate’s final needs. Decisions had been made and the tears drying. Funny but it seems to me that the tears dry on your face but continue to run in your heart for years if not forever. The emotional attachment invested in our relationships with animals, especially horses is profound. So this part of the ritual is up to me. I am the one to lead her for the last time. I decided to lead her between the barns and groom her one last time. Kate loved the attention and the rhythmic stroke of the brush on her coat. She was attentive to the words I spoke and had that far-away look in her eyes that I had seen so often while she was being read to. I know she felt loved, safe and at home. Chad (the Vet) had arrived while I was talking to her and waited for me to finish before preparing the injections. I said my good-byes full of the absolute belief that death is never the end but a transition for all living things. My faith did not prevent me from burning with hurt, not only for my wife and son but also for me. I would and still do miss this pretty little mare. I appreciate the gifts of smiles, laughter, love and even the exasperation that at times she gifted with me over the years we shared together. I will always cherish the memories.

          Chad administered the shots and shortly, Kate was gone. Chad is a wonderful Vet and always sheds a tear when he has to put an animal down. Today was no different. I appreciate him, his big heart and caring treatment of all animals. After he left. I sat with Kate for a long time, talking and laughing over some of the antics I had seen her pull over the years. I cut off a piece of her mane and tail and kept them separate and returned to the house. And then I wrote a poem. I am not a poet but the words came from somewhere deep inside. Get in a poetic rhythm and follow my heart.

Old Kate

January 13^th, 2005

Black, brown and white,

A tri colored mare

Such a beauty when younger

Made most cowboys stare.

A Father’s Day gift,

Strange as it seems

To a boy barely six

Wearing little man jeans

Twas a lesson to be

Learned it was thought,

By the man called Dad

That for you I was bought.

The lesson was learned

By you very well,

Care for her Kindly

And with pride you will swell.

You read me the Bible,

Combed my coat, mane and tail.

You showed me your love

Everyday without fail.

You cared for my knees

With medicines and lotions.

And worried about me

As you saw my slowed motions.

You grew up that day

The decision was made

To let me go quietly

My memory won’t fade.

So here’s a piece of my tail

To remember me by

On those days when I gallop

Through your mind’s eye.

And a piece of my mane,

Wind blown with braiding

As a reminder of where we have been

And a promise that with God I’ll be waiting.

Richard D. Rowland (Dad)

For Matt

January 21^st, 2005

          Like I said, it came from the heart. I braided the mane and the tail separately and to this day, they reside in this house. Kate’s memory is as fresh today as it was almost seven years ago. And Kate…I finally told your story dear. See you some day.

Copyright 11-26-2011. This story cannot be used in part or whole without the sole consent of the author.

]]> http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/2011/11/27/old-kate/feed/ 12 http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/2011/11/07/the-nature-of-things/ http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/2011/11/07/the-nature-of-things/#comments Mon, 07 Nov 2011 22:54:51 +0000 Richard http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/?p=253 Well, I feel it is time to interject a little humor into the life’s experiences that I enjoy writing about. I promise that, as usual, there is a little spiritual message intertwined toward the end. After all, that is the subject I write about. I like writing about things that happen in everyday life that we sometimes fail to see in total. I know that it cannot be my quote but failing to know who to attribute it too, I will say I sometimes feel like an artist who paints with words. I like to hope I can bring out things residing in the shadows that are always there but that you might not pay attention to. So, here is the latest true story, written with a slight grin. Make sure you know that it is a mischievous, not a maniacal grin. See, I know the ending and you do not…yet, so sit back and enjoy the ride.

It was a cool, early fall afternoon in Kentucky. My son, Matt, who was around seven at the time and I were sitting on the patio enjoying rest after a day of work. For those new readers, we live on a horse farm and busy ourselves with related activities most of the day. In other words, we work. I noticed Whiskers (you remember Whiskers from a previous story) traversing the yard with something in his mouth. Whiskers was our barn cat who was supposed to live and work in the barn. However, like most barn cats that we have been the keepers of, he liked the house much more than the barn. Being curious, I walked across the yard to see what he had captured and discovered he had snared himself a chipmunk.

Now, I have to tell you that I have a profound love of chipmunks that has followed me through life. I had one for a short time as a child. He used to run up one arm and down the other like a blur. He would perch on my shoulder and eat peanuts from my hand. That was also the hand that he bit one day, causing my parents to make him a wild chipmunk once again. I am not sure I ever got over it. A couple of summers ago, I sat outside of my in-laws house in Maine for hours, photographing the little seed stealers as they came our from under the porch on their way to the bird feeders for lunch.

Sorry, as usual I drifted off the subject. I wonder if years ago I would have been diagnosed as Attention Deficit Disorder? I think that actually means you possess imagination. Moving on, I took the chipmunk, which I assumed had died, away from Whiskers. You could tell from the glare that he did not appreciate my siding with his prey. Usually, I do not. But I have seen how Whiskers taunts his prey before dispatching it. Once I watched him in the pasture behind the house with a field mouse. He would carry the mouse about thirty yards from the equipment shed and put it on the ground. Then, he would walk beside it as the terrified creature tried his best to make it back to the safety of the shed, only to have Whiskers pick him up once again and start all over. After about four trips, whiskers finally tired of the game and did as nature intended him to do. I will spare you the details, as I am sure you already know the outcome.

After I took the chipmunk away from Whiskers, I held it in my hand for Matt to see what one looks like up close. As I opened my hand and Matt was gazing at the apparently dead chipmunk, the unthinkable happened. The dead chipmunk took a huge gasping breath and magically returned to life. I now realize that the little fella wasn’t dead after all but just playing that way in hopes his tormentor would put him down and forget him. Now, all the sudden, I am holding a small, wild animal with very long teeth in my callused but still soft hand. I hollered for Matt to get me something to put him. I knew if I put him down, Whiskers would once again claim him as abandoned property.

Matt quickly came back with a two-pound coffee can with a plastic lid. He had lined the bottom of the can with grass clippings. I deposited the little booger in the can before he could latch on my fingers, or worse, and shut the lid. Before I could even go into the regular parental speech about wild things needing to stay in the wild, my son wanted to keep the chipmunk as a pet and name him. He also reminded me that he was having company for an overnight stay and he couldn’t wait to show them his chipmunk. Now, I must think quickly. I agreed that the chipmunk could stay long enough for Matt to gain bragging rights in front of his friends about how this capture occurred but after that, the little thing had to go back to his family or they would miss him and wonder what happened to him. He saw the fairness of the situation and agreed with me. He has always been that way, a very caring and compassionate little man.

So, I cut a hole in the plastic cover of the coffee can about one-quarter inch across so Chip (I told you he had a name) could breathe and we sat him on the basement steps and went about our day. I never even considered that a chipmunk could get out of such a small hole.

As things turn out, I guess that is something I should have considered. I envision the mentor I never had would have said something like, “Look for all the possibilities my young lad and prepare for them”. Where the hell was my mentor before this happened? Matt checked on our little friend just after dark to see if he might be hungry. He wasn’t as far as Matt could tell because there wasn’t anything but grass clippings in the can. Now what?

You know, to us, this is not a very big house. As a matter of fact, it is a rather small ranch style house. But, to a little bitty chipmunk, this is one huge hidey-hole with unlimited possibilities and I am sure he couldn’t wait to get back to the rest of his family and let them know about their new house. His Grandfather would be proud.

Now, the worried search began. At that time, we did not have a house cat. A lacking that has since been corrected. So, finding Chip was up to us. We started searching methodically throughout the house. We shut the basement door in hopes we would trap him on one level or the other. We searched everywhere, one room at a time, shutting doors behind us as we went through. Can you imagine how many places there are in a house for a chipmunk to hide? I never gave it much thought either until this happened but there are too many. We took a broomstick and put it under beds, behind a couch, behind the TV and every other place we could not see behind or under.

Finally, the terrified little thing came out from behind the television and the chase was on. I have never timed a chipmunk but I am here to tell you, they are an actual blur when moving and can change direction much quicker than a fifty-year-old man. I was out-matched, but as with all things I have accomplished in my life, I would not admit being out-classed nor would I quit until the deed was done. I kept chasing and Matt kept directing and laughing. Yes, laughing!

Among the many things I have always loved about my son is his sense of humor. I never failed to keep him entertained. Thankfully, it was never the hurtful things that I did to myself accidentally that he found humor in. You know, the knuckle busting, glass breaking, water pipe bursting things I have done while being a master of the do-it-yourself. He never laughed at those mistakes. But, he always laughed and I mean red in the face, can’t breathe because I am laughing to hard laugh at the profanity laced tirades that followed those mentioned mistakes. Okay, this is the place to admit, I am one of those people that used to have what my parents would call conniption fits when I did something wrong. You remember Darren McGavin, the actor that played little Ralphie’s father in “A Christmas Story?” He had nothing on me. I was the real master of the cuss word. I had a Doctorate Degree in profanity. Had it been taught in college, I would have been an esteemed professor of the subject. I might have even had a building named after me. And, my son appreciated my professionalism and my dedication to the art.

The conniption that was to come was historic. I was tiring of chasing this little booger around this house from room to room while not even coming close to catching him. Tired as I was, I was not going to give up. I was like a Great white shark after a seal pup. This chipmunk was mine. I grabbed a dishtowel and renewed the chase, thinking I could throw the towel on top of him and even the playing field. Once covered, I thought I would have him where I wanted him. Nope, quite the reverse was closer to the truth.

I didn’t mention that I had socks on did I? Didn’t think so. We didn’t allow shoes in the house. This is a must when living on a horse farm. I was running straight out through the small kitchen when the Little Turd (see, affectionately calling him Chip is long past) cut hard to the left. I followed suit but from there, things did not go as planned. My feet sailed out from under me and my 195lbs of solid muscle…well maybe not solid but firm…well not really firm but this is my story. Where was I? Oh yeah, my 195lbs of solid muscle hit the floor with a resounding BOOM that shook the very foundation of the house. I then slid across the kitchen floor into the wall with a CRASH and then the long, cast iron, fake utensils that were mounted on the wall came down, barely managing not to impale me and made another loud Clang plus a clatter. I was embarrassed and there started the red-faced, profanity laced, completely out of control tirade that sent my son to his room with tears of laughter streaking down his face. He was laughing so hard that he couldn’t get a breath. I was worried…briefly, and I really did feel terrible about the lack of control in front of such a young man, once again…briefly, but I wanted this chipmunk out of here and out of here now. After all, now I had been embarrassed.

I called for Matt to prop the carport door open and I intended to chase this little booger right out the door. The chase resumed in the bathroom and into the hallway. I saw that this chase was almost over because he was headed for the open door. And, out he went… right into the waiting jaws of Whiskers who had waited patiently for this miscarriage of justice to be righted. Tail up, Whiskers headed off into the night with his prize.

Matt and I stared at each other with open mouths and complete disbelief. For just a moment in time, the humor of the whole situation was nowhere to be found. Then, the realization hit, things are what they are. What is supposed to happen will happen, one way or another. This night, Mother Nature prevailed. We do not know the reasons and may never. I like to think, someday, we will and I will try to get a message to you if I find out, but as things stand now, it is a mystery. I have come to believe that there is no such thing as coincidence. All things are as they should be. Good, bad, makes no difference as long as the lesson is learned and we are able to grow spiritually and remember that we are immortal souls having a physical experience, not a physical being with a soul.

After all these years, we can look back at this experience with a laugh. I have changed and no longer have the conniptions I used to have. Oh, I still have small ones but I catch myself much quicker thank goodness. Don’t I Jennifer? Jennifer? Hey Jennifer? Matt? Is anybody going to answer me?

I Believe, I Really Believe,

Richard D. Rowland

Copyright 2011. This story is copyright protected and cannot be used in part or whole without the sole permission of the author.

 Okay, I promised you a feel good story and here it is. Told from the heart and as true as true can be.

 It is funny how dates stick with me but this is one of those dates that is right up front.  It was September 26th of 2007 that I first met a horse named Pal who would change my life and test my belief in the possible. I, along with my wife Jennifer and son Matt, own a horse boarding/training/foaling farm in Kentucky. We had been talking to a lady about boarding two horses for her and today was the day they would come to the Stables. We knew ahead of time that they were special needs horses but we didn’t realize the depth of their need nor the challenges we would face in our attempt to return them to good health. Good health is just one of the goals we strive to reach. A great quality of life is the ultimate goal and you can’t have it without first mastering a return to good health.

 The horses arrived early in the afternoon. It was a beautiful, sunny, early fall day and we left the house, heading to the barn to meet our new guests. The first one off the trailer was Sara. She was a 27 year old Saddlebred mare. She had a pretty sorrel coat but pretty stopped there as far as pleasing outward appearances are concerned. She was on the smallish side, standing 14-1 in height and that is about the size horse I prefer. The bad news was, her coat was extremely heavy and curly. I am not a Veterinarian but she sure had the signs of Cushing’s disease.  Yep, horses can get it too. She led off with her head high, showing a regality of a much younger horse.

 Next off the trailer was the horse that would test my abilities like no other. Pal was his name. He was, at the time, a fifteen year old Paso Fino. He had a beautiful palomino coat with a light blonde mane and tail. He was also badly foundered. I promise to go into founder a little later. He was about as lame as I have seen a horse that was still walking and his eyes were bright red where they shouldn’t be. He had an eye cancer on his left eye. These things gave him the wild-eyed appearance that brought the title of this story to life. I am telling you, he looked almost demonic. He gimped off behind Sara.

 Pal showed his extreme discomfort until we put him in the riding arena. We generally put horses there when they first arrive at the Stables. Being centrally located, this gives them a chance to nose over with the other horses at the Stables and gives us an idea of where we are going to put them. Horse politics play into decisions regarding placement in fields. In this case, politics is another name for dominance in the herd. We study where horses appear to fall in the pecking order before placing them so we have less drama to work around.

 Well, after Pal made it, limping, into the arena, his whole demeanor changed. The head came up and he stepped out proudly. I must digress here a bit to tell you a little about males. We do not like to show weakness in front of other men. We could be bleeding to death but we would still try to move about so as not to appear weak in front of another man saying “I’m good” over and over. It is a man thing. It is also a horse thing. Weak horses will be culled out of the herd by the herd so as not to endanger it. We save exhibitions of weakness up and display them in front of the women in our lives. Be it our Mothers when we are young or our wives as we age. They bear the brunt of this banking of pain that we men have mastered. Ask any woman that is sharing space with a man that has a cold or a splinter and they will tell you what I am talking about. I guess this is a good time to apologize to Jennifer for the cold I am currently whining about.

Now, getting on with the story, Pal did not want to show any weakness in front of the other horses. So, he stepped out proudly. Even though he was in extreme pain, he did not show it. He taught me a little lesson that day and he would go on for years teaching me lessons. He showed me where his heart was and he showed me he had the drive and the want to that was needed to accomplish what we had to do in order to save him. He had no give. This wild-eyed horse still wanted to shine in someone’s eyes. I vowed that day to do everything I could to make sure that is exactly what would happen. The challenge was accepted and we started moving forward.

On October 26^th, just a few short weeks after the new charges arrived, Sara had to be put down. In addition to the Cushing’s disease, she also had bone cancer. Sometime during the night, her shoulder broke. She cut a trench in the earth trying to get up but it was not to be. Dr. Chad Bailey arrived shortly after being called, along with the owner and the misery was stopped. Twenty-seven years is a good run for a horse. Most will live 30-35 years and I know of some that have lived into their forties.  Pal lost his buddy that day and his life had to start anew. He went at it like everything else he did in life, with a great attitude and the need to shine. Unfortunately, he could not stop the founder that he experienced. He had another bad flare-up that brought major changes his way.

Chapter Two

I guess it is time to tell you about Founder. I promise not to go into a massive, medical jargon filled explanation. Lets just do the basics. Founder is Laminitis. It is a swelling of the soft tissue in the hoof between the hoof wall and the end of the leg bone. The swelling has nowhere to go and the laminae in the hoof can die. Depending upon the degree of founder, a small bone at the end of the leg bone called the coffin bone can rotate and actually come out the bottom of the hoof. This is the extreme but you get the idea.

Many things cause founder, from chemicals, excess feed, lush green grass, stress and many others.  Once a horse has foundered, it is much more susceptible to re-occurring bouts with the disease. Proper nutrition is the key to keeping flares from occurring. We have developed a propriety blend of feed in order to address the nutritional needs of a foundered horse. They get nothing to eat but what we feed. Neither a peppermint nor an apple slice will pass their lips. This diet also addressed the issue Pal had with the eye cancer. Jennifer and I are believers that proper nutrition is the key to battling any disease and most diseases are caused by poor diet.  In this case, fortunately, we were right. Within two months of becoming what the industry calls a dry lot horse, Pal was cantering, bucking, farting and generally having a good time. The surgery that was scheduled to address the eye cancer was cancelled because the eye cancer was gone. That is right, gone! There was no sign of it ever being there. His eye color came back and he regained the beautiful appearance of his youth.

Just too explain, a dry lot horse is a horse that cannot be on pasture. The sugar content in our pasture grasses here in Kentucky is extremely high. Sugar is a definite no-no for the foundered horse. They spend their lives during three of the seasons in dry lot. Pal lives in a corral like setting that has a chute that goes into a stall. It is only during the winter that he can go out in the barn lot. So, basically, he is an inside board. Which is generally a much more expensive situation for the owner. We love this horse so much that we lose money on him monthly. The owner does help a lot with the more expensive feed he is eating but it does not off set the high cost of his feed, supplements, bedding and the like. A full board is just a lot more expensive. I never said I was a good businessman. My heart is too big to try to make a profit from this situation.

The owner has a big heart also. See, Pal belonged to her Father. He was a one-man horse and the two of them were quite the pair until he died leaving Pal rudderless for a while. I have heard so many stories about Pal and his keeper. I really don’t think we own horses but share time and take care of them. But the stories gave me a lot of insight into Pal’s personality. He has a playful side to him. He is mischievous. Yep, horses can be this way too. He loves attention of any kind but especially tag. I will get in the round-pen and dart in different directions while he will come after me and then dart away. He never tires of it. He gets a funny look in his eye when we play like he is trying to fake me out and he usually does.  He also loves my goatee. I will put my chin on his muzzle and he will move his muzzle up and down in order to slightly scratch it. This is not something I recommend people do as horses can and do bite and the bites can be severe. But I do a lot of things with Pal to make him feel like he has something to look forward to.

Pal is also a great conversationalist. I have often said that some of the best conversations that I have ever had were with a horse. There is something about the cadence of a voice that keeps them right there beside you, seemingly enthralled with what you have to say. I have even had some put their head over my shoulder and listen as long as I would talk. Pal loves it when you talk to him. During some of these conversations, I would make promises to him. I made promises of a relatively pain free life, promises of a return to some freedom and promises of a high quality of life. Now, I had to keep my promises.

It was during these games that I had my first experience with the previous keeper, yep, the previous keeper. The one that I said had passed away prior to Pal coming here. On two occasions, out of the corner of my eye, I have seen someone watching me. Once while playing tag and once while grooming him. If you have never experienced such a thing let me tell you it is hair raising. The person was about my height, was wearing a light flannel shirt, blue jeans and a baseball type cap. There is no doubt in my mind that I saw this person but when I looked directly at the image, he faded away. After talking to the owner’s daughter, I was convinced that he had paid me a visit to see how his horse was being treated. She described him as I saw him and no, I did not hint as to what I saw. I merely asked her to describe her Dad. I told my wife about one of the experiences and she told me she had had one also. We firmly believe such things are possible.

As I said, Pal’s owner has a big heart but she is a single Mother with a demanding job. Her time is limited and we understand her situation. So we have willingly became Pal’s complete caretakers. His owner pays the board and comes on farrier day but we manage all other aspects of his life. We try to fill his life and make him feel like he shines in someone’s eyes like he wants to. Pal looks forward to his grooming. Jennifer has taken on the task after I said I was going to cut his mane because it was too long. She has seen what horses look like after I give them a haircut and she didn’t want Pal to look like that and I am sure he didn’t want to either.  See, we men have our ways to get out of things sometimes. Yep, I am caught.

Matt takes care of Pals stall. I have no doubt that he gets quite put out with Pal because Pal refuses to do his business outside. He cannot wait for the stall to be clean so he can go to the bathroom. I sometimes think it is another of his games. I can actually envision a smirk on his face when he messes up a newly cleaned stall knowing the reaction he gets from its cleaner. Kinda warms my heart and brings a smile to my face…

Chapter Three

 I knew in my heart that all of the things that we have done for Pal have not been enough. We were limited by his condition. So, we worked and worked hard to make him even better. We had a goal in mind and we hoped it was a goal that would make him grin. We wanted him to be in such good condition that he could be rode again. Now, that is a far-reaching goal. A nineteen year old horse that was foundered this badly surely couldn’t be ridden again, could he?

Well, yes he could. After the early months of disappointing flair-ups, some so bad that the owner asked if it was time to put him down. After untold numbers of changes to his diet, some that left him too thin, we reached a point where it was time to try. First we had to come up with a low sugar, slow metabolizing supplement to put a little weight back on him. He had lost some muscle mass, so this took a while. But, finally the day came to try it out.  It was September 17^th, 2011, almost four years to the day since Pal arrived in our lives, Jennifer put a saddle of him. At first, we were just going to judge how he acted. And, he acted like he was saying, “Lets GO”! I couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he was ready. One of our boarders, Lee Graves, who has no fear, rode him first. Pal never acted up at all. It had been a total of about eight years since anyone had been on this horse’s back. He rode like he had just finished his training. He reacted to leg controls, voice commands and the reins. Whoever trained this horse did a great job and Pal had not forgotten a thing. Jennifer rode him next and loved the way he responded. Pal is a gentleman and you can tell by his demeanor that he realizes that once again, he shines in someone’s eyes, several someone’s.

Since that day, Pal has been ridden several times, sometimes in the arena and sometimes in the round pen. He just keep getting better and better. He loves having a job again. All of the animals that humans have domesticated want a job. Well, maybe not all cats; we have three that are good mousers when the notion hits them. Pal was no different. He stares at the house, waiting for someone to come get him and take him for a ride. I believe someday, he will be able to go outside of the arena and round pen to the real world. He will have to wear a muzzle to keep him from grazing but once again he will taste freedom. We have come back around. I have kept my promises to him. With the help of the Creator, we have made him well enough to have a good quality of life, to be able to work and play without the extreme pain he was feeling. I am stronger from watching this horse move forward, always forward.

See, I went through a health scare the year after Pal came here to live. I was able to apply what I learned from him to go forward myself. I must have learned it well. The analytical part of me used to relentlessly search for the answer, scientifically, as to why things happen. I always had to have an answer to why. I am glad that drive dimmed and I can accept that sometimes things cannot be explained by science. I have had many spiritual experiences that science cannot explain. That certainly does not make them any less real to me. I plan to write about all of the experiences I have had, one at a time.

Learn this lesson, things are what things are, all is what it is supposed to be and all is well. I have learned and I have been at peace ever since I learned to live in this very moment in time. Right now is all there is. Embrace it and enjoy it.

I Believe,

Richard D. Rowland

November 2, 2011. This story is copyright protected. It cannot be copied or used in part or whole without the sole permission of the author.

]]> http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/2011/11/03/wild-eyed-and-laid-up/feed/ 6 http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/2011/10/06/addio-nocciolina/ http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/2011/10/06/addio-nocciolina/#comments Thu, 06 Oct 2011 13:36:56 +0000 Richard http://www.elizabethtownboardingstables.com/?p=233 It is time to continue the true saga of the orphan filly affectionately known as Peanut. I last wrote about her Dam (Mother) Buffy and the tragic accident that took her life and made Peanut an orphan. You may think the title a bit confusing but translated from Italian, it means “Goodbye Peanut”.  As the story moves along, you will discover the reason for the title.

I wrote a story titled “I was There and Saw it Happen, and I wasn’t Alone” a few weeks back that told the accounting of the death of Peanut’s Dam, Buff and Fancy. Those readers that are unfamiliar with that story may want to read it before continuing on this journey with me.

Trust me, Peanut is not this filly’s given name. I am not sure we ever knew her registered name but we started referring to her as Peanut shortly after the death of her Mother. She was only six weeks old and was still a tiny thing. The situation that made her an orphan touched all of us in a spiritual way and remains both a sad day in our memory and also a wondrous day in our enlightenment. We have moved on, as we all must.

Having spent a large part of my life around horses and surrounding myself with “horse people”, I have a little bit of experience with the animals. And, this I can say with confidence, orphaned horses, by and large, do not end up being good people horses. They are usually pushy, disrespectful, demanding animals that can’t find there way with other horses or people. That is not to say that the reverse doesn’t happen, it does. It is just rare for one to turn out like Peanut did. The cards are usually stacked against them. Foals turn out better, generally speaking, if their Mothers raise them, introduce them to the herd, teach them horse politics, protect them and discipline them. Books have been written about the relationship between the Dam and Foal just as there are about babies and parents in the human race. Peanut missed what these books teach. She went from being a loved and nurtured little foal to being alone in the world. She went from getting her nourishment from her Mother to getting it from a bottle and supplements. She went from being part of an equine family to being by herself in a barn lot with people. Lastly, the love she received came from these strange things called humans and not other horses.

Other horses usually shun orphans. Sometimes, you can get a mare that has lost a foal to take an orphan. And, sometimes you can get a mare with a foal to nurse an orphan along with her’s. We had neither available to us in this case. So, it was the bottle, milk supplements and a quick move to rations suited to a much older horse that we relied upon to bring Peanut along.

She was needy and clingy at first and this is normal. We wanted to develop a relationship with her but we did not want her to see us as surrogate parents. We wanted her to develop into a great horse that could mix with other horses as well as people. We wanted her to meet the potential of her breeding. We wanted her to be like her Mother but yet be herself. In other words, we wanted to accomplish what doesn’t usually happen with orphaned horses. Doesn’t this sound like most parents you know, when they talk of their children? The dreams are the same. Now, it is up to us to sow the seeds and nurture their growth in order for Peanut to get the start she needed. We ended up setting the compass that would guide her through this early period and well through her life.

I will not say we did a good job with this horse even though other people have said just those words, nor do not take credit for all she became. That was written before we began. We felt, at times, like we were around for the ride and watched her amaze us with her gifts. I will however, give credit to Korna Farms for the selection of breeding. Sam has a knack for choosing the right Sire/Dam combinations to get the best qualities and assure horses that coexist with people are the outcome. We have started several colts for Sam and have found this to be true in every case. This one was just exceptional.

We built a reputation over the years of doing an exceptional job starting colts. We take foals and start the process of socializing at an early age. The finishing includes teaching young colts to be respectful, lead, accept the halter, back up, be groomed, have their feet trimmed, load on a trailer, stall, tolerate being treated with fly control, give to pressure and taking shots. All these things and more are lessons that need to be mastered in order to get along with people. It is just the basics of co-existence.

You know, all of this sounds easy in theory, but in reality, it is usually anything but easy. Picture being handed a bag containing ten feral cats with instructions to turn the cats loose in an open field and then put them back in the bag. Now you have an idea what it is like to start colts. We measure success in small steps. After haltering a colt for the first time, which is no easy feat, we start teaching them to lead. We pull on the lead with steady pressure until we get the smallest amount of forward movement from the horse. Then we stop the lesson. See, I really mean small steps.

With Peanut, small steps went by the wayside. She haltered and led like she had been doing it all her life. She never fought the lack of freedom. Never! She trusted me with all of herself, every time. You could see it in her soft eyes. She was trusting and relaxed. She felt loved and protected. She knew I would not ask anything of her that would hurt her. The first time she had her feet trimmed, our farrier, Ron, could not believe this young horse. He said we did a great job getting her ready. We knew different. She became a total package not only from the start her Mother gave her but also from the spirit that lived inside of her. That spirit was in the air the night her Mother died as I wrote about earlier. I believe the spirit raised her from the inside out. We might have directed the process but she knew to trust us from the power within her. This is the gift from her Mother and the power available to all of us. We need to learn to let go and let it happen, whatever “IT” is.

This business can be a sad or a happy depending upon your outlook. We choose the happy almost every time. No matter where our hearts may lie, we know we have raised these young horses to have a good life and reach their potential. What I am telling you is not unlike raising a child, just shorter. You know from the moment they are born, you are letting go daily, in small steps. There is that small step theory again dang it. We raise these horses for someone else and eventually they will be sold. When they leave, a little part of you leaves with them.

The news came that Peanut had been sold to a couple that own a breeding facility in Michigan. She had been with us all of her life. I was there the second she was born and would be there the day she loaded on the trailer to leave. Peanut was one of the very few young horses that had not been trained to load onto a trailer while she was here. So, I was a tiny bit apprehensive the day she left. I think part of me was hoping she would throw a complete tantrum, refuse to get on the trailer and choose instead to remain here forever. That is the parent in me, showing the Disney existence that we some times wish to experience. As always, life wins out.

True to her personality, Peanut loaded on the trailer like she had been hauled everyday of the past two years. Yep, it broke my heart but she chose properly. She followed her spirit. She once again trusted with no hold back. I have cried more than once over animals in my life and suspect I have a few more heartbreaks to go but the bond between us was strong. No, the bond is still strong.

I sometimes think about strange things. I listen to other people talk and gauge how others think. Some may disagree with my take on animal’s personalities. Early in my life, I wondered if animals had personalities. Are their personalities real as we perceive them or do we create the pictures in our mind, as we want them to be and then only see the traits that fit what we have drawn? I guess in the end, it matters little. If it is real in our minds then it is our real. The real in this case to me is that Peanut is an old Spirit that lives on for a new experience. She always seemed to know what to do and who to trust. She was always right. I moved on knowing I could visit Michigan and see her once again.

On September 20, 2011, I received a letter from Cheryl Miller of Michigan. Cheryl and her husband are the new owners or I should say keepers of Peanut. I will quote her; “Just wanted to touch base with you to let you know Peanut is doing great!!!! We have started riding her and she has been perfect…. never a buck or even a flinch!! She has the best personality and what a loving little girl. You did very well with her….. Cheryl.” See what I say about personalities?  She is what we all need to be and she has accepted that things are what things are. We need to learn that.

You might think this long story ends here but I haven’t explained the title of this story. I received an unexpected letter from Cheryl on September 30^th, 2011. Once again, I quote; “Hi Richard, Had to tell you, Ms. Peanut is also going to Italy!!!! They have been looking for well bred mares and hoped to be able to breed them to our stallion before taking them to Italy. Well, they asked if we had any well-bred mares and I told them about Peanut and also a Zippos Sensation mare we have in foal and they took both of them. They are going to a beautiful horse farm and even though I hated to part with them, they will have a wonderful life. Another saga in little Peanut’s life!!!! I will keep you informed.”

I found myself with mixed emotions. On one hand the heartbreak renewed itself and brought the sadness out of the file drawer of my mind where I hide things. It will be hard to hide it for a while. On the other, what an adventure my little girl has in front of her. I wish her fair winds. I know she will be fine. It is in her spirit to be strong, adventurous and to follow her path.

My sister-in-law Elena, is Italian. I contacted her for the correct translation for the title of this story. So I say addio nocciolina, goodbye Peanut, I will always keep you here, in my mind. Now, I guess it is time to learn another language. I have to be able to communicate with her new keepers when I go visit her. The communication with her is unspoken but speaks words without number. Goodbye old spirit. Goodbye young horse. Remember your lessons well. Keep your eyes soft and all knowing. I miss you. I always will.

Happy trails,

Richard D. Rowland

This story is copyright protected and cannot be used in part or whole without the express written consent of the author. 10-05-2011

I wish I knew where to start. The weather this summer has been extremely hot. Not just here but all around the country. I have felt sorry for the horses. They are melting. For the lucky ones that will tolerate it, we spray them off when we are cleaning and refilling troughs. They love those days. I wish all of them would stand still for a good cool off. We are using War Paint fly control most of the time because it holds up better in this hot weather and will not sweat off.

Jennifer and I went to Maine for almost a month this summer. We kayaked, played tourist, had a friend (Ileana)come up from Florida for a few days, ate awesome food, target practiced and just generally relaxed and had fun. Matt did a good job taking care of the horses and the place. We appreciate being able to leave and not worry about the Stables. I did not want him around the tractor so the fields and fence rows were completely out of control when we returned, not to mention the gardens. Good thing we didn’t plant much this year. About a week after we left Maine, Jennifer’s Mom fell and broke her hip. She is doing awesome. Jennifer has been back in Maine taking care of her Mom and Dad until they are back on their feet. She is due back here on the eleventh. I have missed her and look forward to her return.

We have two new boarders and both are great fits for the Stables. The first to arrive was Denise Elliott from the Radcliff area (originally from Illinois). She has a super looking horse named Ali (Alibi), a paint horse. Ali seems quite smart and willing. She is very calm and is quite a nice package. Denise takes lessons in the English discipline and we feel she will be riding here a lot. She can be contacted and welcomed at elliottdenise@live.com . Give her a shout and let her know we appreciate her being with us.

The second new boarder is the Collins family, Brooks, Linda and Sara. They reside in the Elizabethtown area. Sara is 10 years old and also takes lessons in the English discipline. They are a great family, new to the horse business with a great thirst for knowledge. They all soak up information about horses and already seemed seasoned. Their horse is an 8 year old TB mare. She was treated a little rough by other horses at the last place she lived and absolutely  seems to love it here. She is calm, possesses a bright, intelligent eye and is a good mover. I look for great things from her and well as her owners. They can be contacted at brooks@miluniform.com . Welcome them also.

The fields and fence rows are back in shape as well as the riding arena. All the horses are healthy. I am getting ready to give Pal a hair cut. I just envisioned my wife cringing as I wrote that. His mane is so long and thick and makes him hotter. Remember, anyone is welcome to play with him and give him all the attention they want to. He is a lovely horse. Dar is having some hoof issues. So, we have cut his field in half, cut his feed and will be increasing his hay consumption. He will be fine soon. Bo and Annie are like an old married couple. Both are in their twenties this year but you wouldn’t know it by looking at them. Jackie is still doing great. I really enjoy her being here and love her personality when it is hot. She can still be a little frisky when it cools off but love her anyway. Pepi and Big Shot are doing great also. I love to see Big Shot rack when Lee takes him out on his weekly rides. That horse is a mover and knows it. He is bleached out by the sun. Hard to tell he is a black horse. Both horses have been loading well and have been going to the Amish to have their feet trimmed on a regular basis. Lee does a great job with them. Sam doesn’t have any horses here right now but I think we will have three on the way before the end of September. Look forward to his Paints and Hunter type horses. One will be in foal for a early spring baby. Welcome back Sam.

I am off to a football games. Matt’s first game as a Coach. Looking forward to it. I will close by telling you that this is a blessed life. As I look back I realize just how lucky I am and that I would not change a thing. Looking forward I see nothing but good. I will be writing a new blog on the web page soon about an experience I had at the Stables a couple of years ago. It will be moving if I do the subject justice. It can be viewed at the web page or our face book page for the Stables. I am appreciative for all of you being here and being part of our family. Thank you!

Happy Trails,

Richard, Jennifer and Matt

This is an accounting of the tragic death of one of the best horses I have ever had the honor to share ground with. Unfortunately, I also shared her last hour too. It is a true story and I hope I can do it justice. It was one of the worse days I have had with horses but it was also one of the most amazing experiences I have had. It was a spiritual experience like no other.

Her name was “Buff And Fancy” and the date was July 28^th, 2009. She was called Buffy. She was a big boned girl, had a pretty sorrel coat, and an intelligent eye. I have often described her as so light to pressure that you didn’t have to do much more than think what you wanted her to do and she was already doing it. I have never experienced such good ground manners in any horse since or before. To top it off, she was a super Mom. The little filly foal by her side at the time was born May 12^th 2009 at 1:20 in the morning. I know because I shared that hour with her too.

She was owned by Sam Korna of Massachusetts. Over the years, we have kept several of Sam’s horses. Mostly brood mares sent here to have babies. Little did we know that this little filly, affectionately called Peanut, would be the last offspring of Buffy’s. I have often thanked Sam for sending this horse here to share time with us. I have also apologized for having to call him with such bad news and for the heavy decision that he had to make without being here. Bad situations often create a bond between those that experience them. This one did just that.

It was late in the afternoon on a normally hot day in Kentucky for the time of year. Buffy was spending time in the barn lot with her filly, being a Mother and biding her time until Peanut was ready to experience the fields and the high tensile fence that surrounds them. Mr. Lee Graves was a witness to the incident. He relayed the following to me about the accident. Young Peanut started running toward the round pen located in the barn lot, adjacent to the barn. Pal, a foundered gelding was in the round pen as he is a dry lot horse for life. Buffy never much cared for her daughter being around Pal, so she took off at a gallop and placed herself between Peanut and Pal. She was actually rubbing herself against the round pen panels as she ran.

Let me tell you a little bit about round pen panels. They are fifteen feet long and have metal fingers on the ends that interlock with other panels. This interlock accepts a metal pin that holds the panels in place and allows you to build any configuration you desire. The fingers are a loop of metal about six inches long. I hope that gives you a good picture in your mind of what we are looking at.

Now back to the story.  Buffy hooked one of the round pen panel fingers with her hip. The force drove the metal into her side, struck and broke her pelvis and pulled part of it out. She knew immediately that she was in trouble. She walked a few steps, stared at the house and waited for me. I was the one to come if she needed someone. Lee called me on his cell phone and gave me a brief run down of what happened. I left the house and headed to the barn lot nervous and worried. When I arrived, she stood still and looked me in the eye as I checked her over. I am sure that my eyes confirmed what she already knew, this was bad. Jennifer (my wife) was with me and I was unable to meet her gaze even though I could feel it. Matt watched too.

I called Elizabethtown Animal Hospital. It was still bright daylight but was after hours. I reached Dr. Michael Thomas at home. Mike and I have been friends for years and he has made several trips to the Stables for different reasons. I guess he could tell from the tone of my voice that he was needed badly.  I put a rope halter on Buffy, even though I didn’t need it. Even in pain and fear, she stood with me and waited. It didn’t take Mike long to arrive.

While I was waiting for Mike, I called Sam with the bad news and told him I would call back as soon as I had more information. It was a hard call to make.

Mike gave Buffy an in depth examination of the wound which included having to insert fingers into it and check the pelvis area. Still, she stood with me. Never once shying away or flinching from the intrusion. He confirmed what I already knew. This was a bad situation and little could be done. Her pelvis was badly broken and she had a lot of soft tissue damage. A drain could be inserted and the area stitched up but with the severity of the damage, it would only prolong the inevitable. He advice was to put her out of the coming and current misery.

Now, another call to Sam and a lengthy conversation. As hard as it was to  report the news and give the advice, I know it was harder to actually make the decision. He conferred with Mike and the decision was made. Buffy would soon no longer be with us. She seemed to realize this and lay down. She called to Peanut, and in that soft sound that mares make to their foals, she apparently said her good byes. I separated Peanut from her mother and put her in the round pen. Normally, herding foals is like herding cats, it just cannot be easily done. Peanut, as in the future she would always do, minded as if she knew exactly what I wanted of her and went in the pen. Her Mother stayed on the ground. By this time darkness had closed around us.

Now folks, here is where the story gets extremely spiritual. Mike administered the series of shots that are used to put large animals to sleep. At this exact moment in time, nineteen other horses located at various lots around the twelve acres that encompass the Stables started nickering, whinnying and running like crazy. Most of these horses could not see what was going on but they all knew. And, one horse did not start this din of noise, they all started at the same time. After a few moments, Buffy faded away and the din died down. All of the five people present looked at each other in amazement and realized that we had been part of something special. A final gift from Buffy and a lesson in the nature of things from the other horses. All the horses knew what was transpiring and gave their send off and well wishes. How did they know? I think the energy they are part of feels more than we realize. They know more than we think. They are smarter than we can imagine. All animals have this gift. Guess what? You do to, just search it out.

Through this experience and a few others during the past three years or so, I have come to the realization that we are all part of a single energy called life. We are all part of God.  We are all together on this living planet. Our energies intermingle with all the others. Lets take a lesson from this tragedy and the actions of these amazing animals. There is so much more to this existence than most of us ever thought possible. Open your eyes to the shades of gray. For much of my life, I saw things in black and white. Don’t be like I was. See like I do now. Amazing possibilities exist and are waiting for you to experience them. And Sam, send another Buffy!

I will close with the promise of another short story about the orphan filly named Peanut. I assure you that against all odds, she did fine. But, more later,,,,,, Happy Trails, Richard D. Rowland

This story is copyright protected and cannot be used in part or whole without the express written consent of the author. 10-05-2011