It was fucking hard.
You see, like all of us, she loved this mare with her whole heart and soul.
We all loved her. She had a way of gazing at you that made you believe that she saw you. Beyond the facade and into your soul. She saw the good and the bad and she liked you anyway. I think a lot of horses do this but she was so clear about it.
Her personality was curious, insightful, slightly stubborn and always humorous. She wasn't a fan of being ridden but was 110% safe for anyone to ride. That's rare. I was fortunate to ride her a couple times and I found her to be fun and humbling. If you were unbalanced at all she would stop and refuse to move. She did love doing tricks (like playing fetch, soccer) and hanging out with people.
She was beautiful and loving and a true character. She should have lived into her 30s.
Instead in her early teens she began to develop rapidly growing tumours all over her body. She seemed healthy and happy but who knows what was going on inside?
So, faced with the prospect of a horrible, painful death from a catastrophic colic my friend made the only decision possible.
She let her go.
Let her go quietly.
Free from pain.
My friend endured a week of torture. Of waiting. Of trying to be positive with her horses without bawling her eyes out. Her mare had a week of loving care.
I'm sure my friend felt like a wreck but I saw only caring, dignity and grace.
It's the most loving gift she could give. And it was hard. But she did it.
Because she loved her horse.
All horses should be so lucky.
|God speed Flamante. Say hi to Steele for me.|