DEAD HORSES

I fainted once at a doctor's office. I was young, there was blood, some hidden connection was made and pow! my face met the floor.

Years later, when my Mother's coffin was lowered into the ground, I suddenly felt light-headed, got up, wobbled to my car and almost passed out, almost. Someone followed me and tapped on the window, I signaled that I was o.k. and waited for the disconnection in my head to pass. It did. The disconnect in my world did not.

Still later, at least twenty years, I don't remember how I got out of the barn, I made it half way up the hill to the gate on the front paddock, suddenly sat down on the damp ground, laid back and went to black! When I opened my eyes the Vet was pulling up on my belt buckle and I was sucking air in loudly.

My last horse had died. He actually was euthanized. I had called the Vet when I went in to feed and found him down. He had injured his eye and scraped up his off front leg; he wasn't cast, but this time, he wasn't able to get up. He tried, for me, but he looked into my eyes and I knew he was ready to leave.

So, I ran to the house (before cell phones), called the Vet, it was so early he came within fifteen minutes and agreed the ending was best.

Uno had looked for his buddies for months, but they were gone. He had pulled his last stunt of rolling over to his bad hip in the pasture and circled around and around until I found him and helped him rise. I thought he was dead that time but he opened his blue eyes as he laid there...sleeping!

He must have struggled until he was tired and gone to sleep. There is an old horse saying: put them in a padded stall and they will smother themselves! I can add: put them in an open field , add a shallow spot with dew and they will cover themselves in mud, then wait for you to show up!

But, this time was different. He and I had lived together over twenty years. He was an ex-dancing white stallion from Vienna, whose life I saved for Doc Antel (an exotic animal breeder/trainer) so his wife could ride the horse with a Unicorn horn tied to his forelock, in Renaissance Fairs.

They retired him to me and we had many, many 'aires above ground' moments. He taught me all the Grand Prix movements. I loved him and respected his dignity.

My last horse. I buried him in the high pasture where I go to close down days and watch sunsets.