Those that have lost horses

[brighthair]

do you ever get to a point when you stop getting upset over it? My boy was PTS on the 29/08/02, and I still can't get over it. It's getting less often but I still cry over him sometimes. I want to think I will find a horse like that again but don't know if I will. He was like my soulmate. I want a horse like him that never had to wear a headcollar, never spooked, never refused anything I wanted to jump, trusted me, could be shod, clipped, wormed and jabbed all with no headcollar, was safe enough to put a 5 year old on, but could gallop for ever. A horse to hack and feel 100% safe, that I could run up to and vault on in the field. All that and an ex racehorse - was I just lucky?

 

[Nailed]

I had a boy pts on th 15-2-2000
No i still get upset when i think about him i really do!

Lou x

 

[hairymolly]

He sounds like a star, no wonder you miss him.

 

[algy666]

I don't get as upset as I used to over mine, but I do if I think about it too closely, especially the night he was pts (21st May 03). He'd just turned 5, I'd only had him since the December

 

[brighthair]

I'm tired and I miss him. I just want to hear him whinny to me once more

 

[Erehwemos]

Mickey died of a heart attack on 21st May, 2000

He was only nine years old, and I'd only had him seven months, but he was my baby and I loved him like I had never loved any other horse. We'd rescued him from an evil, evil man, and it took me most of the time I had him to regain his trust...but when I did, my God, was it worth it!

When he died, I shut myself away for weeks on end. The only way I could get my feelings out was to write about him - poetry, novels, anything. Eventually I saw some light at the end of the tunnel, and at the end of that summer we managed to find Ellie.

But, if you want me to be honest, I still cannot think or talk of Mickey without getting tearful. I loved him so, so much, and his death was just so unexpected. One day he was there, buzzing with energy and happier than ever. The next, he collapsed at my feet.

I go up to his grave on the anniversary of his death almost every year. I dont think I will ever quite get over losing him

 

[T_K]

No, never

I've unfortunately had a few horses die on me(no fault of my own) due to old age, diseases etc.....it does get easier but I still miss them all terribly when I see pictures of them and think about them.

 

[Natalie_H]

I think it depends on the person really. My 13.2HH dartmoor cross was PTS in April 2003, and I still get upset if I think about it too much. When I got her, she was 13 and I was 12. When I lost her, she was 26, and I was 25. She was appalling to school, but amazing to jump. I never felt nervous on her, and I know that we clicked - something I only realised since having my current horse who is a totally different kettle of fish. Only now do I see actually how much that she really looked after me, and I miss her terribly. Current horse is a 15.2HH TB, and he simply doesn't give me as much as she did. He is talented, bright, and we do have our good days. I do adore him, but by having him makes me realise how special she was. I do agree with some of the recent posts about mares & how amazing they are when you get the connection. I just wish I had realised when she was alive.

The important thing for me is that I am unlikely to ever find a replica of her, so it is unfair to compare my gelding. You just have to take each horse on their individual merit. If you are lucky enough to find even one horse of a lifetime, then you are blessed. The problem is that others are always going to fall short. I am sure that plenty of people on here are on a constant quest to find that perfect horse to replace a special one that they have lost, but rarely do......

 

[Erehwemos]

I will just say that for all the pain I suffered when Mickey died, in a way I am grateful to him, for Ellie really is my soulmate - I honestly dont know where I would be without her. If Mickey was the first horse I had ever been in love with, than Ellie truly is my one in a million. Just wanted to say that, as I know sometimes it seems like you will never find another one to fill the gap in the same way - but I did. So have hope

 

[brighthair]

I wrote loads when he went it seemd to be the only thing that helped. I decided to have him PTS when he looked me in the eye one day, I just knew. I had a week with him and cried non stop, he went out in the field on the day on about 8 bute and reared with the sunrise behind him, I don't think there was a dry eye on the yard. When he actually went, I didn't cry at all, I just held him and sang Twinkle Twinkle to him

 

[algy666]

We bought Dylan within a month of Tex being pts, and I deliberately went for something completely different so I wouldn't constantly compare them. Tex was a piebald Welshie X youngster, Dylan an 8 y.o. TBX ... couldn't have found two that were more different.

The worst thing with Tex was that it was so damn quick, we came up to the yard at teatime and he wasn't himself; vet out; referral to vet hospital; diagnosed with acute grass sickness and pts before midnight. I was 14 at the time, and am still so grateful to my dad for letting me make the decision (other option was a gut biopsy, but the vets thought it would just confirm their 99% sure diagnosis and he'd have to be pts anyway). It killed me, and still does somethimes, but I've never regretted it because I know I did the right thing for my baby.

 

[Erehwemos]

[ QUOTE ]
I wrote loads when he went it seemd to be the only thing that helped. I decided to have him PTS when he looked me in the eye one day, I just knew. I had a week with him and cried non stop, he went out in the field on the day on about 8 bute and reared with the sunrise behind him, I don't think there was a dry eye on the yard. When he actually went, I didn't cry at all, I just held him and sang Twinkle Twinkle to him

[/ QUOTE ]

How lovely to have had that last week with him, to really cherish him.
Mickey went so suddenly

I was mucking him out that evening - Mum was filling his water buckets - and suddenly he just started to stagger. He screamed once - I remember that - and I just managed to get out of the box before he hit the floor. The side of the stable was pushed out by his weight....but I kept waiting for him to get up. I even dashed to make up a bed in one of the spare boxes for him, so that when he got to his feet, he'd have a safe stable to go into....

But he was gone pretty much before he hit the floor

Mum gave him mouth to mouth - we can giggle about it now - it was just so futile. I held his head in my arms until the vet came, not wanting to believe that I had lost him

 

[brighthair]

I wrote this when he went. It was lovely to have the week but horrible at the same time knowing what was coming

You shone more than the brightest star
On our journey you took me so far
Cross country courses, quiet country hacks
You were always there to watch my back

You gave me confidence, strength and trust
And when you left me, I thought I must
Lay down to go and close my eyes
When they are open, I could only cry

You were so brave, strong and true
When I was nervous, you carried me through
Without you, I feel like I've lost an arm
Because you were always with me, safe from harm

And I left you there, lay on the ground
Your hooves were sore, you wouldn't come sound
I think I know I did the right thing
As I lay with you and wanted to sing

The song was Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
How I wonder where you are
And now it hurts so much in my heart
Was it really time for us to part?

Five years I owned you,
And by they flew
All those things I wish I'd said and done
But you'd had your glory, the time had come

I'm sorry I can't look after you any more
But in my soul I'm really sure
You're watching me with that gentle gaze
And having many happy days

But I miss you so much, you ouldn't believe
Why did God make you leave?
All he's left is a broken ghost
You're the one thing I miss the most

 

[malibu211211]

I had my boy, Donnegan PTS on 29/04/2008 due to arthritic changes in his spine and hocks

he was only 13

I know it hasn't been a year yet and I am not looking forwards to that day

I haven't really got over it and am still very bitter about the way his stable was filled straight away

even though I offered to pay for it until I was ready to see another horse in there

Something I will never forgive and forget

I think it will always be with you and there are certain pics of him that I can't look at without bursting into tears. It helped a little I suppose because I already had bought my current horse when D semi-retired 6 months earlier. But not having him around causing complete chaos, it's just not the same

I find myself constantly thinking was it the right time to let him go but I think I know deep down it was

At least he's free from pain now

 

[Vizslak]

Im actually crying reading these posts because no i dont think you ever really get over it. i too have lost a few over the years and still get upset when thinking about the times i shared with them. but my one in a million is still with me. I have only had her just over a year and everyday i cherish every moment because when that day comes my world is going to be shattered. (i have other horses at the moment too by the way) she is amazing and i kno her inside out, every little quirk and exactly what she is thinking, as she does me. The thought of one day having to say goodbye to this friend of a lifetime fills me with horror and sadness and i really do worship every hair on that little mares body every single day and think how lucky I am to have ever found her.

 

[Erehwemos]

Oh my gosh, that's lovely

What is it about the written word that just makes things easier to cope with? If anything goes wrong in my life I dont mull on it, I write it down - it really is my way of pulling through. I can see why people write their memoirs when they're suffering from a terminal illness...it just gives you strength.

I have just found this - I wrote it for a school assignment when I was about 13, and had my teacher in floods

Tis long though

-------------------------------------------------------------
He was to be the best friend I had ever had.
Life, for all his nine years of it, had not treated him well, and he came to us bearing not only the visible, physical scars of whip and fist, but also wounds that ran far deeper, and that had blemished his beautiful mind so that it seemed he could never trust a human again.
We had gone to view him on a mere whim; my father had mentioned him briefly some weeks before, when the owner of the livery yard at which Mickey was kept had told him of the plight of the poor little bay horse. She knew little of him; he had been kept with her for just a couple of months before his owner decided, for whatever reason, that he had quite simply had enough. Mickey was left alone in a distant, bare-soiled paddock, with only a trough of stagnant water to sustain him. There seemed to be no reason for this neglect, no justification for the timid, cowering skeleton that the horse had become. And so it was that he stole my heart, on that starry October night. It did not matter that, when riding him, I had been unable to do anything except trot. It did not matter that we knew nothing of his health, past history or habits. Mum fell for him as quickly as I did; our decision had been made for us.
It sounded easy to me at first, this task I had chosen to take on as my own. I was the one who was going to teach Mickey to love and trust again, and show him that not all humans were there merely to inflict pain upon him. In my mind, it would take a few days of gentle handling, loving care and sympathy to enter his mind; a week, perhaps, before he accepted me and made friends. But in reality, it was a matter of months. Not a whip was laid upon him, not a hand raised to him, and yet still, for the first three weeks at least, he cowered in the far corner of his stable, trembling in fear and terrified expectation. Under saddle, he needed only the slightest of nudges to convince him that he was about to undergo yet another beating, and my frantic tugs upon the reins as he took off into full flight did nothing to persuade him otherwise. It seemed like a lost cause, but I, stubborn and determined at just eleven years of age, would not give up hope.
At around Christmastime, and with the new millennium about to dawn, a major breakthrough was made. Mickey whinnied a welcome to me early one morning, as I entered the stable yard to give him his breakfast. Gone was the horse that cowered and shrank away from my hand. As I opened the stable door, instead of running to the far wall, he took just three, slightly-wary steps backwards, and then reached out his handsome head to lip a carrot peeling from my outstretched palm. He did not tremble or shy away when I raised a hand to pat his neck, nor did he throw up his head as I stroked his cheek with my fingertips. His eyes were ever-watchful, but they no longer bore the terrorised look of fear and mistrust. I leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and he gave a deep, contented sigh. After three months of confusion and apprehension on his part, and a long period of heartache and dejection on my own, Mickey had finally learned to trust again. And in doing so, he had accepted me as his friend.
Nothing mattered after that magical moment. Acceptance meant far more to me than rosettes and prizes, and the fact that riding him very rarely produced any positive outcomes hardly ever seemed to matter. He was still nervous, and he continued to anticipate my aids and run from my leg, rather than work with me. There were many times, occasions of which I have spoken to nobody, when he took off with me, and it was only by sheer petrified determination that I managed to cling on and finally, perhaps a good few miles later, draw him to a halt. Mickey and I were the despair of many within the Pony Club; during the few rallies that we attended, almost half the time was spent trying to find ways to slow him down. Watching mothers in particular would watch our tearaway antics with their teeth on edge.
“That’s no horse for an eleven year old,” they would say. “He’ll do himself a mischief one day, or the rider, for that matter. It’s an accident waiting to happen.”
Perhaps they were right. He was no horse for an eleven year old, and yes, perhaps it was an accident waiting to happen. Indeed, during that winter, my mother expressed her concerns to me, and she made it clear that it was possible that things might not work out. With a natural mother’s instinct, she did not wish to put me at any unnecessary risk – although I, naive and utterly besotted, refused to see the danger that threatened to arise. Mickey was my baby, my everything. I simply could not see how any accident could occur.
Fate intervened during the early spring of the year 2000, writing off any chance of future calamities that could have occurred. Mickey and I were plodding along a small country lane, just a few minutes from home, when a speeding car failed to spot us until the very last moment. The driver slammed on the brakes, missing us by no more than a metre, and squeezed past us, forcing us into the ditch by the roadside. It was a narrow escape, or so I thought. For, the next morning, Mickey was quite obviously lame.
The vet was summoned, and following an ultrasound scan, a ruptured check ligament was diagnosed. Riding, that year, was out of the question, for a recuperation period of at least nine months was required.
The incident, although devastating at first, temporarily laid to rest many of the fears that had been building up in my mother’s mind. With Mickey out of action, no harm could come to me, for in the stable, he was a total gentleman. The nine months during which he would recover would be spent simply caring for him normally – grooming him, feeding him, taking him for short walks. After the initial shock of what had happened had died down, I began to look to the future. I didn’t need to ride him to know that I still loved him, and I looked upon the months ahead as a time in which our friendship could grow even stronger.
I had never been happier. April and early May saw us become inseparable; more like brother and sister than horse and owner. Wherever I went, Mickey seemed to be obliged to follow; we went for slow, steady walks, during which I would pause for hours at a time to let him graze by the trackside. He was bathed almost every day once the weather became warm enough, and his mahogany coat, once dull and dusty, soon became gleaming and sleek. A true barometer of a horse’s health is said to be the brightness of their eyes. Mickey’s eye contained a spark that I doubt had ever been there before. If it had not been for the support bandage which remained upon his injured leg, then anyone who did not know of his lameness could easily have mistaken him for a racehorse at full fitness. It gave me immense pleasure to see him looking so happy, content and at ease. At that time, so great was my love for that horse, that I did not care if I could never ride him again.
It is always a mistake to suggest that something is nearing perfection. On the night of May 21st, during the year in which everything was meant to start afresh, I was sitting, with my entire immediate family, around a restaurant table. We were celebrating my grandmother’s birthday, and the evening had been incredibly light-hearted and jovial. I remember somebody saying, in conversation, that they had never known me to be so happy before, and I agreed. In my mind, I had everything: a family who loved and supported me – and each other – and the greatest friend and companion that a person could ever hope for.
It was not late when we returned from the restaurant; dusk was just beginning to fall, and as I set the stables fair for the night, my mother led Mickey out into the yard to stretch his legs. In spite of having been rested for over a month now, he looked, as he pranced and snorted with all the coltish habits of a two-year-old, as fit and healthy as a racehorse.
I had not believed that life could be so perfect. That night, I even dared to suggest inwardly that everything was perfect, and that nothing could ever bring me down from the height at which I felt I was soaring. True, I was facing a summer of no riding for the first time since I began to walk, but I did not care. I had Mickey.
I had everything mapped out – the routes for long walks together upon which we would embark on summer evenings, the exact dates, which, health-check depending, Mickey would begin his fitness regime. Not wishing to dwell upon the past, and indulge in endless, depressive reveries of what might have been, I was looking to the future.
I watched him now, after leading him back into his stable. I patted his neck as my mum closed the door behind us, and then stroked his thick black forelock as he took a mouthful of hay. He gave a sigh, utterly content. And then it happened.
As if a mouse or some other scrabbling creature had suddenly caught his attention, Mickey spun round, his head turned sideways and on a slant. He snorted and swayed – and all the while I stood trapped against the far wall of the stable, watching him sway. His disorientation grew with my fear; fear for him, fear for myself. My mother’s frantic screams rang in my ears as I panicked, trying to dodge him as his legs began to fly out from beneath him. And as quickly as it had occurred, it was over.

*
I sat there in the straw, not quite believing, not wanting to believe. In my arms I cradled his limp, lifeless head. His eye, so recently full of life and brightness, seemed now to be just a shallow, clouded pool of nothingness. My Mickey, my friend, was gone.
The end had been quick; he had not suffered. He would not have known anything, other than the comforting sound of both mine and my mother’s voices, as his entire mind and body was rapidly consumed by the effects of the enormous heart-attack. Still, in spite of this knowledge, I continued to tremble, as every last sign of life ebbed from his prostrate body. The stammered words of the veterinarian continued to rotate, around and around, in my head: “I’m so sorry. . .he’s gone. . .I’m so sorry. . .” I began to sob into his thick, black mane, as the sight of the splintered stable wall revived the memory of his final, terrified scream, and the terrible thud as his body came crashing down upon the floor.
I knew that those sights, and the terrible sounds that would forever be associated with them, would haunt me for eternity.

 

[Natch]

Brighthair I had mine PTS on 6/08/02 and I still cry about him sometimes - about a month ago I was in sobs one night just like when I lost him, the pain just as raw. He was my soulmate and I cried every night for a year after his death, then cried when I realised I'd gone a night without crying about him.

i'll PM you x

 

[3BayGeldings]

Remember Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown


I still miss my old horse that died 5 years ago. The pain eventually subsided from being like a dagger in my heart, to a dull ache. However, i hope that ache never goes away as i never want to forget him, and in a way i never want to stop missing him. It's extremely bittersweet.

 

[3BayGeldings]

Oh, and might i also suggest http://www.hoofbeats-in-heaven.com. You get to write a memorial for your horse, and can even speak with others who have lost theirs. Might provide a bit of relief?

ETS: I've been reading the poems on this site... now sat in a puddle of tears!
x

 

[Ruth_Cymru]

I lost my boy 25/01/2009 and miss him so much. It was his time to go, which made the grief easier, he had done so much for me he didn't deserve to be in any more pain.
Yesterday was the first time that I stood where he was PTS, and although it was sad it was also comforting, felt like he was there with me.
Brighthair- your poem is beautiful, it fits my feelings towards Baxter so well. I drew a picture of Bax as a form of release, I started it the night before he died and finished it after he had gone, it felt a fitting tribute to him, and a print of it is now down at the yard as a memorial to him.
Big hugs x x

 

[Janesomerset]

I'm sitting here in floods of tears but also comforted to know there are other people like me! We lost our son's pony, aged 26, in February 2000, and my horse in April 2002. My horse was only 12, I'd had him since he was born, and he died from grass sickness, so I know just how dibbin feels. One evening he was mugging me for an extra Polo (which I'm glad I gave him); the next evening he was at Langford veterinary clinic. And we still don't know exactly what causes it. I wrote a little book about our boys and sold it in aid of the Equine Grass Sickness Fund. I still fund-raise for them when I can. I go up to our horses' special secret memorial place at Christmas and birthdays and the anniversaries of their passing on, and talk to them and leave them Polo mints. My best friend, who lives near where my horse was born, lays flowers there on his birthday. I'm so glad we are not certifiable, or, if we are, we're in good company! Goodnight boys, love you forever, oh Lord I must go and get a tissue. I do now have another pony and he is my treasure; love him to bits, but will never forget my first boys.

 

[MrsMozartletoe]

No. It never goes. The tears never stop. I lost my first horse last October. She was everything. My instructor told me that it would be years before we got anywhere because she was such an opinionated cow, but we didn't know she was in pain, probably every time I rode her. She was my first horse and she made me feel safe, even when I was scared stiff part of me knew in the end that she would take care of me. Going somewhere new/over a new scary bridge she would question me, but still go, with each leg shaking, if I asked it she would do it even if she let me know she thought I was barking. I miss my little girl, my horse that was meant to be 16hh when I bought her - she never got past 15.2hh, but she was brave and kind and opinionated and loving and would stand with me in the field out of choice. She was only four when she went, chronic damage to her rear suspensory ligaments. Couldn't walk properly in the end. I spent a couple of hours with her in the paddock, just talking and telling Big Cob to leave her alone (he wanted her hay), and standing with her, she leant on me and rested her head in my arms. The sun felt warm and I still can feel it and feel her coat under my fingers. She was only four. I'd had her for a year, almost to the day when she was PTS.

I now have Dizzy, who is far better bred, bigger, flashier, and I do love her, but every now and then, when I see that chestnut neck in front of me, I stifle a cry for my spotty-botted mare with her skimpy mane (made worse by my ministrations) and her solid frame beneath me, wiht her questioning ways and her opionated view on the world.

When I lost my dog in January, the vet sent a card with flower seeds and this poem, which I know has been put on the Forum before, but for me it says everything and had husband and I in tears:

If It Should Be...

Tha I grow fail and weak,
And pain should wake me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle can't be won.

You will be sad, I understand,
Don't let your grief then stay your hand,
For this day more than all the rest,
Your love and friendship stand the test.

We've had so many happy years,
What is to come will hold no fears,
You'll not want me to suffer, so
When the time comes please let me go.

I know in time you too will see,
It is kindness you do for me,
Although my tail it last has waved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved.

Do not grieve that it should be you,
Who must decide this thing you do,
We've been so close, we two, these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.

When Tiggy was gone, I sat with her great bulk and talked to her and felt at peace for what had had to be done. It is now that I rail against Fate and wish with all my heart that I could have her back.

 

[smellsofhorse]

In lost my mare to a tragic accident in 2005, she was also 8 months pregnant at the time.

I still get very upset when i think or her and her foal. I wonder what they would be upto now.

 

[vhf]

A couple of oldies, who I can think back to fond memories with. Although I miss, and still tear up over them, (even though 1 in particular died in 1990!) I am "comfortable" with the loss, if that makes sense. It's become part of who I am.

On the other hand in 2007 I lost a mare the first night I had her, and although I barely knew her, it has affected me far more. I can't see a horse lying flat out without going into panic mode, and it was days before I could go to the yard on my own to see her replacement. I still flashback to the whole experience and do all the "if only's" even though there was nothing anyone could have done.

 

[Angua2]

I had Sid PTS before christmas, and while I miss him, I am not shedding anymore tears. the guilt I feel for not doing enough is begining to fade. 3 months on I the one thing I am not missing is the biting and the kicking that he used to give me.

 

[Goya]

I bought a tree in Tribute at World Horse Welfare at Snetterton when I lost my beloved Jack in 1999.
His tribute is recorded in their book and there is a plaque with his name on. It is ,to me,really comforting.
I often go there and just sit by "my" tree and think of the great times we had together.

 

[Ashgrove]

I had my first horse, Tora PTS in 1987 and I thought I would never get over it, I bought and sold a few horses and then bought Fruitbat, my soul mate, I had him PTS in 1992, I still miss him, but with time the pain does ease.
I'm also lucky in that I have a mare now, Blotor who is also a soul mate, I'm very lucky to have found 2 horses that I click with.

 

[misst]

14/02/03 my daughter lost her beautiful boy (he was sort of mine too) - tears in my eyes as I write this... so no you never fully stop feeling it but it gets better and I smile a lot now when I think of him.
ETS that we also have a tree in tribute with a plaque and that is a nice thing. My daugter also has a bracelet made from his hair.

 

[kellyeaton]

i lost my best friend on 15/6/2008 at 12.15am she died from liver faliure she was very well until the monday before i had bloods done on the wednesday found out about her liver on the friday and witch the vet said with treatment and diet we could save her witch raised my hopes but all hope was gone when i had to have her pts on the sunday the liver was poisioning her own body it had burnt her inside out and might her blind. do you stop crying no the answer is you may not cry as much but you do still cry. i have my girl every day to talk to i promised her she will be with me until the day i die and thats what i have done. i had her creamated and she is in my living room in her lovely casket so i talk to her every day and i had a necklace made with her hair so she is with me when i leave the house as well. good night mummy still loves you and always will. R.I.P star!xxx

 

[Kenzo]

I'm not going to read any of these post because I'll just get all upset, I'll get that horrible choking lump in my throat and then tears will coming rolling down my cheeks and smudging my foundation, not a good look when your sat in an office full of people sat sniffling away, when your not even supposed to be on the internet!....plus I'm pretty scary with makeup so imagine what I'd be like without it lol...so I'll keep it light hearted.

But yes, I'll never forget any of my ponies/horses, ones I've either parted with and the ones that have grown old/ill and left us for the skies.

Sometimes the pain so bad, you swear to yourself you'll never have another again as you can t deal with it when they leave you, but can you imagine life without horse in it, I cant.

(((Hugs))) to those who have all lost a four legged faithful friend.