To everything, there is a season...

So, I begin my blog today with no specific direction, not unlike my life right now.  I tend to exist on a plane of habits and routines, which really aren't that bad, as habits and routines go.  When life starts to kick my ass, it's these little things that mean the most to me.  My touchstones. 

Yesterday was what I lovingly refer to as my "pony day".  I drive about 35 miles to visit my horses.  I have a 10 year old show horse, Nosey Rosie, whom I ride, and a 27 year old retired show horse, Hallie, who is just the apple of my eye.  She's been to hell and back so many times now, and yet she still trots over to me every Friday as I approach the fence to her paddock with a handful of peppermints, or, her favorite, orange jelly fruit.  She lives on an incredible farm in the Hunt Valley area of Maryland, prime horse country. 

Every Friday, I drive up the long driveway of the private estate where my retired Quarter Horse lives.  The house to the estate sits high on a hill, overlooking the horse fields and barn, which is actually bigger than my house!  My little girl is living in style!  There are four smaller paddocks closer to the house, and two larger fields closer to the road.  Hallie and her BFF, Jane, are turned out together in one of the larger fields.  There are usually three "ladies" as I called them, but yesterday there were just the two.  Suzie, Hallie's other BFF, was MIA.

It took me a minute to find Suzie.  I thought maybe she was in the run-in shed in the "ladies" field, but nope, it was empty.  I looked everywhere.  Finally I saw her, laying in field, perfectly still.  Not good.  She was on her belly with her legs tucked under her, her nose was resting on the grass in front of her.  She moved her head only inches when I walked to the gate and called to her.  Suzie is a 7 year old "off the track" thoroughbred racehorse, my friend owns her now.  She raced in her younger days until a hoof injury ended her career.  The original owner was going to put her down until Dawn offered to take her.  She's usually full of life, despite her now deformed hoof, but today....  this was not Suzie.

I opened the gate and walked to her while I called her and rustled the rappers of the candy I had for her.  Nothing.  She then let out a quiet "ooof" and rolled completely over.  She was exhausted.  I unwrapped the candy, peppermints, and fed them to her one at a time as she lay there.  Her eyes said it all.  She was done. 

I called my friend Dawn to give her the news.  Her gorgeous light bay mare, with the beautiful white blaze and the coal black socks, mane and tale, was sprawled out in the field and I couldn't get her up.  She lifted her head for me, she wanted to do what I was asking of her, she just couldn't.  Dawn's phone rang to voice mail, so I hung up.  I just couldn't say it, especially in a voice mail.  She manages a horse farm down the street, so I called the farm number.  Bruce, her boss answered.  Good, I thought, Bruce can tell her.  I just can't.

Through my tears, I told Bruce that Suzie was down.  He said that Suzie had been this way since Thursday morning, Dawn wanted to put Suzie down but the owner of this estate, David, wouldn't let her.  David is 83 and has Parkenson's.  He's a Holocost survivor, a quadruple bypass survivor, and as of a month ago, a stroke survivor.  He just bought himself a new horse, he still rides.  These horses are his life.  He treats my blind, arthritic backyard pony like she's worth a million dollars.  Again, these horses are his life.

I stood there in the field, feeding Suzie peppermints, sobbing.  I knew Suzie was not long for this world.  She probably had hours left.  Dawn would be there soon with the vet, and it would be done. 

I love these horses, they are my Prozac.  They are my breaths of fresh air, my rainbows after the storm.  They are my touchstones.  Even though I knew that Suzie's time had come, she was ready to go, I was hoping David would wobble out of his house and down to the field, and put a stop to it.  I understand how he feels.  These horses, regardless of who "owns" them, are his touchstones too.  They are his reasons to get up in the morning.  Literally.   At 83 years old, David also is not long for this world.  Putting Suzie down is a not so subtle reminder of that.  Everything has a life span.  Everything has a time on this Earth.

As I fed Suzie peppermints and scratched the mud from her face, I said my goodbyes.  I'm going to miss her, and I know my Hallie is going to miss her too.