In my life, I always preferred to be told the bad news First: then the Good. I think many of you all will understand this premise & bear with me. In telling this true story...I want to get the sad part out of the way. Firstly because He had 21 years of Grand life and only 2 brief weeks of sickness. After this, when I blog about his wonderful career & life, you will rejoice in that and not in his end. For those of you that are interested...Over a period of time I will tell you his exciting story and I hope I can do him justice..because his legacy continues through his sons & daughters...
How do I translate & communicate the True story of him in all his glory when the mere mention of his name SLAYS me. HOW? My soul is like a leaky roof with buckets of tears everywhere…I don’t know where the next hole will pop through…
I am standing at the end of the fence and even after 2 months I am still unable to close the 100’ of field, the Gap between him and I. I recall his favorite home in the seasons…In the spring, there are tremendous wild flowers there. As spring ripens into summer there is lush green grass with giant Father oaks lending their blessed shade over much of the pasture. In the fall, there is a backdrop to the field that is awash with a panorama of shades & hues that no artist could put on canvas. In the mild winter, the azure blue Carolina sky meets the leafless forest.
There is a large square of raw ground, covered by river stone & surrounded by 4 silver gates that protect his final resting place. The ground isn’t level yet..I can see that from here. What will the words be that I carve into his final stone? How can I fit it all? How can I describe 22 years on a damn stone? Do I brag and state his accomplishments? Do I swear my love for him and tell of his honesty & loyalty? Do I describe his beauty, strength and stamina?
Then…slowly….in trepidation…my heart traces the horrid steps back to his last days…at the clinic in the University. His hot sore feet wrapped and heavily padded like a surgeon going into operate. IV’s hanging on a large pivoting 360 allowing him to pace freely around his stall with that the long needle remaining in place, deep inside his neck. He was tremendously strong through the excruciating pain. ..His stoic & unwavering behavior, despite such pain, amazed even the most experienced teaching Professors. Only when he trotted over to meet me did that bone-chilling telltale groan…escape him.The kind of sound that comes from WAY down deep inside a horse…the kind you NEVER want to hear. In all his years…had he not uttered THOSE Pain Sounds…Yet He managed to nicker softly as I opened the stall door with his favorite treats in my hands. I tried to squeeze my eyes shut so he wouldn’t see my distress or hear my breathing change for he knew me well. As he took the little treats from my fingers,he nuzzled me& pushed me a bit with his nose, like he always had. As he did this, I saw him stagger & almost lose his balance. Yakking stupidly & incessantly to him all the while…I spent a 30 minutes with him, trying to drink him in.Trying to find some way around doing what I must. Trying to selfishly GET all I could get of him for what would be…the last time. As I studied his wonderful physique…I could not believe he was dying. Still vibrant before the onset of this laminitis & colic, He was a 22 year young stallion who looked 10. His muscles still round and plush under his supple skin. His deep bay coat & jet black mane had a fine sheen even now. I turned my back on him to wipe my tears away…but he knew. He put his head over my shoulder and leaned on me like he had done as a colt.. In anguish, I turned to peer into his soft eyes I knew so well…. and I know his eyes clearly spoke back to me & said….It was time. I signaled to the somber Doctors with their telling downcast eyes whose fine reputations preceded them. In eloquent words, they expressed their admiration for the Stallion and even admitted to “Googleing” him on their computers. Until then, they had not realized that their 4 legged patient had been inducted into the Hall Of Fame just a short 4 months previous. They tried to comfort me by describing wonderful traits of his character…they continued on about his toughness and his escapades while in their care, saying he was a favorite with all students & doctors. But…skirting-the-issue time was over. My Beloved stood suffering horribly not more than 30 feet away. While they spoke, I realized that my Stallion “Scoot” had been the strong one here. He had endured their tests and procedures..the proddings and pokings and invasions…without complaint.. But between he and I… in that stall… his eyes had clearly said, Enough is enough.
As I spoke quietly, I stumbled in my words. It was as if I was out of body and listening to someone else, as I uttered….”It is time to put my Beloved down…He is suffering so terribly that soon the dignity of his large life…. will be stripped away...His magnificence will be diminished as his body, heart and soul are stripped away, ravaged in the pain.” “Please give me a few minutes to arrange bringing him home…afterwards”. That word..”Afterwards” still beats its way around in my brain, repetitively. I have come to dislike that word.
Woodenly, I phoned my favorite Horseman & friend….who was expecting it. I slogged through the words..crying. I could not stop. He gently told me that I needed to let him tend to ALL details. He knowingly insisted that I needed to say farewell to the stallion at the clinic and try to remember him in the days of his youth. I heard myself make one final request…because it seemed very important to me at the time…silly me.. “Make sure to take his Halter off….before you bury him…the Last freedom.”
It seemed to take an eternity and yet it happened in an instant...traveling back to his stall. He was waiting for me, his familiar nose pressed up through the rungs in the door.. He began to nicker continuously until He got his way and I opened the door once again. I cried freely now with great sobs, unable to contain myself any longer. Scoot had always accepted me just like I was. He had always given more than he took… and as he nuzzled his way into my neck, he tried to comfort me…I hate long goodbyes so I hugged him fiercely for a brief moment, then turned to go. In his agony…with an effort befitting a king…he reared up, pawed the air and bellowed loudly to signal me as a Stallion, in honor. I ran out, but his bellowing echoed in my heart & ears until I was far far out of range.
I don’t know how long it was before I quit bawling.. hours turned to days…days to weeks..weeks to months..In my bedroom hangs his first Stall Plaque showing his breeding…carved in wood 20 years ago..On the corner of the Plaque, hangs his fine leather halter w a brass plate & his name carved out.
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| The END must be first.... |
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