Sarah_K
Well-Known Member
Got the dreaded text yesterday as I got in from work- "Betsy down, calling vet." Betsy was my first proper pony after I moved off shetlands. We'd owned her for 27 years and she'd taught me, both my sisters and two nieces to ride. We've never been 100% sure how old she was, but I reckon probably around 40. When I got the text, I got changed and headed straight round to parents. She'd been fine at lunchtime, bullying the shetland off his feed (as usual) but had gone down in a stable doorway. My Dad had made her as comfortable as he could putting rugs under her head and neck but when I saw her, I knew that was it. We were going to give her a last summer at grass then make the decision in the Autumn.
Vet duly arrived and we decided there and then that she wasn't going to get up again. She went peacefully but boy has it left a big hole.
So goodbye to the ginger menace, great PPC games pony, jumper, WHP and hunter who on several occasion's unintentionally gave the Master of the hunt a lead over a fence and dashed off after the hounds before anyone could stop her.
You'll be missed.
Vet duly arrived and we decided there and then that she wasn't going to get up again. She went peacefully but boy has it left a big hole.
So goodbye to the ginger menace, great PPC games pony, jumper, WHP and hunter who on several occasion's unintentionally gave the Master of the hunt a lead over a fence and dashed off after the hounds before anyone could stop her.
You'll be missed.
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