My first introduction to horses, some 20+ years ago, came via my friendship with a Veterinary Technician named Sam. We became friends when we dealt with the prolonged illness of one of my cats. Eventually, our friendship found its footing outside of the surgery, and I was a guest at her home many times. Out behind the house stood a small barn, and a fenced-in pasture that housed a horse belonging to Sam’s eldest daughter.
Due to a perilous illness that many thought the daughter would not survive, Sam and her husband made the decision to give that child whatever it was that she wanted, and she wanted a horse. The equine in question, Obie by name, started out as a right c*nt of a horse with an attitude bigger in size than Ireland. But the daughter prevailed, and she and Obie developed the sort of relationship that few are lucky to find. Why am I telling you this? Because I experienced something recently that I’d only previously seen in that daughter and Obie.
I recall visiting Sam’s farm, one day, many years ago, and watching as the daughter (let’s call her Red) walked out into the pasture to spend a few quality minutes with her horse. As Red ran a curry comb over Obie’s coat, that stubborn Old Bastard (the name from which ‘Obie,’ or ‘OB’, originally derived) lowered his head, closed his eyes, and communed with his person. He was utterly motionless, and utterly at peace in her hands. I never forgot it.
As all of you loyal readers know, my own equine friend, Bit, has been afflicted with EPM, and now with Cushing’s Disease, as well. While his EPM has been manageable, the Cushing’s has very much kicked his bum, and almost entirely crippled him. I went to the stable, a couple of weeks ago, to do a photo shoot with him. I had no idea that he was in such dire straits until I asked him to walk outside the barn with me. God love him, he tried, but he hobbled so badly – horrifying me in the process – that I immediately stopped him, and did the photo shoot where he stood.
Alarmed, I exchanged a number of texts with stable owner Wendy. She told me that she was giving him lots of pain medication, and natural supplements as well, to boost his immune system, which was all well and good, but it was never going to return him to the health of his younger years. Having no previous experience with a sick horse, I trusted what Wendy told me, and hoped for the best. I tried to visit regularly, but the holidays loomed, and other obligations pulled me hither and yon. I was finally able to stop in the other day, and reality rather whopped me on the side of the head.
In the first place, Wendy had moved Bit from the paddock (where the other horses spend their days) to the aisles of the barn. This may not seem like much until I tell you that the aisles of the barn are reserved for the very old, and the very sickly, among the herd. They are free to wander the aisles at will, poking their heads into any open stall and nabbing whatever food that horse had left behind when he went outside. So now, Bit has joined the ranks of the old and/or sickly.
In the second place, he’s lost all that weight that healthy horses take for granted. Bones now stick out that hadn’t, previously, and it was clear to me that he would never be ridden again. I’d been fighting that fact for many months, hoping for a reprieve because a part of me is just that selfish. But standing next to him on this most recent visit, I finally realized that our riding days are, indeed, over. Sadly, I had to acknowledge that his life was coming to an end. Whether that end comes in weeks, months, or (very unlikely) years, isn’t the point. The fact that he’s on his way out is.
Bit seemed to be able to move around more easily that recent day than he had during the photo shoot. His joints were still swollen, but he was not hobbling, for which I was grateful. I stood with him for quite some time, communing, and singing the songs of my people to him. For his part, Bit lowered his head and stood motionless beside me, not unlike what I’d witnessed in Red and Obie. Believe it or not, that rather cheered me up: that, without realizing it, Bit and I had created our own special bond, and it was now coming to fruition. Perhaps his retirement isn’t so bad, after all.
