tantallon
Well-Known Member
I am no great shakes as a poet or writer but I had to have my old competition mare put down today after 17 years of enjoying each others company and wrote this today
That Bloody Foot!
As the vet walked into your stable, I put my hand on your head and whispered for one last time.
Ssshh its alright, you'll be ok. But of course you weren't. Ever suspicious of that veterinary smell this time you were right you had cause for alarm because he meant you quiet harm. Yet you let me settle you as I had many times before, smoothing that forelock over your eyes. Sshh I said and the tears rolled slowly, silently down my face.
That foot let you down, that bloody foot - still we had nine years more than they predicted these vets with their needles and pessimism. They didn't factor in your toughness and grit, that you were head of the herd here and not ready to quit. With shoeing and care you enjoyed many more years – even finding your forte as a mum with foals at your feet. In fact you enjoyed this so much you'd even take youngsters that weren't yours - guiding them and nipping them with maternal care.
What I learned down the years with you is that it isn't the training and winning that counts, not really, not to any real amount. It it time shared and enjoyed in the company of an old friend it is the feeling of pride in knowing you've loved such a horse and in turn are loved in that equus way that says feed me and care for me, keep me warm and safe, don't shout, don't hassle me with whips and spurs for I have something deeper to give you than that. For at the end of the day, after all these years it's not the rosettes that I'll miss it's the quiet time with my arms round your strong neck, you nuzzling my back for a shoulder scratch or ruefully watching you canter away, head held high and more glint in your eye than an old horse has a right too, as you pretend once more that your youth has returned and you're scuppering my plans of a hack or a jump just because you can, just because you feel high.
Down the years we galloped in fields and on beaches down grassy lanes over wild heather reaches. We trotted and cantered around the arenas straight planes. We jumped over ditches and fences and poles. But most of all we became friends you and I. A mutual understanding grew over 17 long years that in the end made it all harder to bear that that one bloody foot was to end it all.
With the sound of the vet slamming his door, the restless scraping of hooves, the quieting hand, spinning gentle lies, then a crash to the ground and the world became still.
All has stopped for you my old friend but I'll never forget all you gave me and taught me. To make me feel better I dream that that foot is now sound and you are running wild on far away beaches, your head again high, your summer dapples gleaming as you gallop along.
Old friends are by nature the best and the worst to let go of when you face that test.
To my horse Cavalla
That Bloody Foot!
As the vet walked into your stable, I put my hand on your head and whispered for one last time.
Ssshh its alright, you'll be ok. But of course you weren't. Ever suspicious of that veterinary smell this time you were right you had cause for alarm because he meant you quiet harm. Yet you let me settle you as I had many times before, smoothing that forelock over your eyes. Sshh I said and the tears rolled slowly, silently down my face.
That foot let you down, that bloody foot - still we had nine years more than they predicted these vets with their needles and pessimism. They didn't factor in your toughness and grit, that you were head of the herd here and not ready to quit. With shoeing and care you enjoyed many more years – even finding your forte as a mum with foals at your feet. In fact you enjoyed this so much you'd even take youngsters that weren't yours - guiding them and nipping them with maternal care.
What I learned down the years with you is that it isn't the training and winning that counts, not really, not to any real amount. It it time shared and enjoyed in the company of an old friend it is the feeling of pride in knowing you've loved such a horse and in turn are loved in that equus way that says feed me and care for me, keep me warm and safe, don't shout, don't hassle me with whips and spurs for I have something deeper to give you than that. For at the end of the day, after all these years it's not the rosettes that I'll miss it's the quiet time with my arms round your strong neck, you nuzzling my back for a shoulder scratch or ruefully watching you canter away, head held high and more glint in your eye than an old horse has a right too, as you pretend once more that your youth has returned and you're scuppering my plans of a hack or a jump just because you can, just because you feel high.
Down the years we galloped in fields and on beaches down grassy lanes over wild heather reaches. We trotted and cantered around the arenas straight planes. We jumped over ditches and fences and poles. But most of all we became friends you and I. A mutual understanding grew over 17 long years that in the end made it all harder to bear that that one bloody foot was to end it all.
With the sound of the vet slamming his door, the restless scraping of hooves, the quieting hand, spinning gentle lies, then a crash to the ground and the world became still.
All has stopped for you my old friend but I'll never forget all you gave me and taught me. To make me feel better I dream that that foot is now sound and you are running wild on far away beaches, your head again high, your summer dapples gleaming as you gallop along.
Old friends are by nature the best and the worst to let go of when you face that test.
To my horse Cavalla
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