How do I start this? I have no clue. I only know that I miss my friend. She wasn’t human, and some would say the loss of her life was nothing compared to the loss a human family member or friend. But to me, the earth split open that day and I lost someone who was like my child.
She was supposed to turn seven years old this summer. But alas, she was not meant to see that day. I guess the days leading up to January 16th were not out of the ordinary. I was treating the herd for a nasty upper respiratory virus, and we were all tired. Faith wore her small purple blanket and mostly stayed in the building.
First I must reminisce…. Faith was a loner. From day one she was never as affectionate as Blue, or any of the other members we added to the herd over the years. But that was just her. However, she would let you do anything to her without fuss. I body clipped her coat each summer and she would just stand there patiently for the two hours it took. She had an insanely thick winter coat, you see.
My absolute favorite memory of her? That is easy. She was around one or two years old, still in full winter fuzz. She was wearing a new red halter with gold face buckles and chin clasps. I let her out of her pen, and she wandered around for a while. Blue trotted along his own fence line, itching to be out with her. Suddenly, Faith threw her small head in the air, and kicked up her heels. That was just the start. As I watched she sprang into action. She ran… and when I say she ran, I really meant she flew. I swear. She flew around the yard for a bit, and then when I tried to catch her, she eluded me. Each time, dancing out of my reaching hand with her wide eyes laughing.
Faith had problems. But I loved her anyway. She was such a little diva, sometimes making me so exasperated that I wanted to scream. Of course, I think the whole herd has done that to me in our lives together! Because of her cleft palate she had a special way of eating, and drank water like a bird does. More food came out of her nose than got into her stomach. Her heart had a murmur, and her left kidney was not the best. Despite all this, she lived. I would like to think she was happy with my family… or at least I hope so.
I have lost animals before, but that day was beyond anything I have done before. I walked outside on the 16th, chattering to the horses as I do every morning. I started throwing down hay, spreading it out. I noticed that Faith was not out of the barn yet, but I just thought she was being a little lazy and didn’t want to come out yet. I rounded the corner, and time stopped. She was lying on her side, eyes half shut, not moving. I screamed her name, and she never responded. I hopped the fence, ran through the knee deep snow toward the house. I wanted to go faster, but the snow was stopping me. I burst through the door, shouting for my mom. I fell to my knees, heart racing, screaming my anguish. At this point, my mind was gone. Mom rushes down the stairs, grabbing her coat, saying gently, “Calm down… we knew this was coming.” She was calm and to the point, bless her, because that kind of kicked me back into thinking mode. I got up, and we rushed outside. When we got there, Faith was trying to get up. Mom went to get blankets, and I ran to call the emergency veterinarian. We had our arms filled with blankets as I told them what was going on. We got back to the barn, and she was still trying to get up. I laid a hand on her to get her to relax, and she did. Mom talked to her. We covered her up in blankets, and waited. We stayed with her and waited.
If you know Faith, you know that she has a very unique whinny. For someone so small, the noise that came from her throat was deep and guttural. It was beautiful.
That Sunday, I left Faith in the care of my mom and went in the house to call my dad. I talked to my dad for a while, being strangely calm now. I walked back outside and Faith’s eyes and ears searched for my footsteps. I said hello to her, asking how she was, and she whinnied. I wanted to cry, because I knew that was the last time I would hear it. Soon, the vet came and the time had come. I sat on the cold ground, and said goodbye to her once and for all.
When it was over, I cried in front of the vet. She later left, and my mom and I covered Faith with a blanket, so the other horses could say goodbye. One by one over the hours, they went in and said goodbye in their own way. When Faith was taken away to be cremated, Belle let out a high pitched squeal. And another. Then the pasture was quiet.
****
As the days go by, I still miss her every minute. Life has continued, but my heart still aches. I love my animals, and each one is so very special. At least I know that she is enjoying her life up in Heaven, where she can be complete and healthy. She is hanging out with her best feline friend, Gallaghar. I am glad they are together, because I miss him too. But they have each other and are happy. That is what matters. I will see her and my other friends at a later date. I can’t wait
She was supposed to turn seven years old this summer. But alas, she was not meant to see that day. I guess the days leading up to January 16th were not out of the ordinary. I was treating the herd for a nasty upper respiratory virus, and we were all tired. Faith wore her small purple blanket and mostly stayed in the building.
First I must reminisce…. Faith was a loner. From day one she was never as affectionate as Blue, or any of the other members we added to the herd over the years. But that was just her. However, she would let you do anything to her without fuss. I body clipped her coat each summer and she would just stand there patiently for the two hours it took. She had an insanely thick winter coat, you see.
My absolute favorite memory of her? That is easy. She was around one or two years old, still in full winter fuzz. She was wearing a new red halter with gold face buckles and chin clasps. I let her out of her pen, and she wandered around for a while. Blue trotted along his own fence line, itching to be out with her. Suddenly, Faith threw her small head in the air, and kicked up her heels. That was just the start. As I watched she sprang into action. She ran… and when I say she ran, I really meant she flew. I swear. She flew around the yard for a bit, and then when I tried to catch her, she eluded me. Each time, dancing out of my reaching hand with her wide eyes laughing.
Faith had problems. But I loved her anyway. She was such a little diva, sometimes making me so exasperated that I wanted to scream. Of course, I think the whole herd has done that to me in our lives together! Because of her cleft palate she had a special way of eating, and drank water like a bird does. More food came out of her nose than got into her stomach. Her heart had a murmur, and her left kidney was not the best. Despite all this, she lived. I would like to think she was happy with my family… or at least I hope so.
I have lost animals before, but that day was beyond anything I have done before. I walked outside on the 16th, chattering to the horses as I do every morning. I started throwing down hay, spreading it out. I noticed that Faith was not out of the barn yet, but I just thought she was being a little lazy and didn’t want to come out yet. I rounded the corner, and time stopped. She was lying on her side, eyes half shut, not moving. I screamed her name, and she never responded. I hopped the fence, ran through the knee deep snow toward the house. I wanted to go faster, but the snow was stopping me. I burst through the door, shouting for my mom. I fell to my knees, heart racing, screaming my anguish. At this point, my mind was gone. Mom rushes down the stairs, grabbing her coat, saying gently, “Calm down… we knew this was coming.” She was calm and to the point, bless her, because that kind of kicked me back into thinking mode. I got up, and we rushed outside. When we got there, Faith was trying to get up. Mom went to get blankets, and I ran to call the emergency veterinarian. We had our arms filled with blankets as I told them what was going on. We got back to the barn, and she was still trying to get up. I laid a hand on her to get her to relax, and she did. Mom talked to her. We covered her up in blankets, and waited. We stayed with her and waited.
If you know Faith, you know that she has a very unique whinny. For someone so small, the noise that came from her throat was deep and guttural. It was beautiful.
That Sunday, I left Faith in the care of my mom and went in the house to call my dad. I talked to my dad for a while, being strangely calm now. I walked back outside and Faith’s eyes and ears searched for my footsteps. I said hello to her, asking how she was, and she whinnied. I wanted to cry, because I knew that was the last time I would hear it. Soon, the vet came and the time had come. I sat on the cold ground, and said goodbye to her once and for all.
When it was over, I cried in front of the vet. She later left, and my mom and I covered Faith with a blanket, so the other horses could say goodbye. One by one over the hours, they went in and said goodbye in their own way. When Faith was taken away to be cremated, Belle let out a high pitched squeal. And another. Then the pasture was quiet.
****
As the days go by, I still miss her every minute. Life has continued, but my heart still aches. I love my animals, and each one is so very special. At least I know that she is enjoying her life up in Heaven, where she can be complete and healthy. She is hanging out with her best feline friend, Gallaghar. I am glad they are together, because I miss him too. But they have each other and are happy. That is what matters. I will see her and my other friends at a later date. I can’t wait
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