I had the privilege of caring for you over 26 years. For all that time I put the shoes on your feet, warm rugs on your back, made sure you had enough to eat and a good roof over your head. We went through so many things together. You were always there in the background a reassuring constant to the turmoil of my existence.
I learnt so much from you. You enriched my life and changed it utterly. Through you I made so many friends and had so many experiences I would never have had. I saw so many things. The beauty of a summer’s day. The peace and quiet of a cool green wood. The shy secretive deer that let us approach so close. Fun things too like being able to spy over fences into gardens and see so much more than I would have done from the ground. Then there were other things like the alluring tracks that called to us and the stubble fields with tram lines begging to be cantered down. The companionship of our rides out together. The picnics we had; me with my banana or cereal bar and orange juice and you with your apple. You made me so proud. How high you could jump when you were young, how beautiful you were. The competitions we went to together and the rosettes we won. So much more than I had ever planned to do.
I wanted you all my life. As a small child my grandmother used to tell me to make a wish on the bubble which formed after she had stirred my cup of tea. I had to wish before the bubble burst. I would always wish for you. Fittingly it was my grandmother that enabled me to have you as I bought you with money she left me in her will, so you were doubly precious to me because you were a gift from her whom I loved so dearly.
When you were young you were spirited and willful. Too much for me to handle at times. People told me to sell you as you would probably end up killing me, but I was determined to get through to you. I knew there had to be a key to you, I just had to find it. I spent many hours thinking about the key. I was never going to give up. I was never going to sell you. I was going to make it work. Through the years I always felt you were other to me. You were just out of reach, your beautiful dark eyes like deep pools of water lost in a dream. Sometimes we would connect, you would focus on me, we could communicate. Yet other times you seemed to be just out of reach in another world inhabited by terrors and rules I just could not understand. Behind a pane of glass you were like sand slipping through my fingers.
Then there was that time when you were startled by something and gasped, a sharp intake of breath, just as I would have done in the same situation. It was then that I finally understood what I had suspected all along, you were just like me. We were both creatures formed from cosmic dust. We came from the stars. Atoms of carbon. Your atoms had coalesced into the graceful, noble shape of a horse, mine into that of a clumsy and imperfect human. That was the only difference between us. It was an accident of fate. Our places in life and our whole experiences thereof could easily have been reversed.
I had to fight so hard to have you, overcome all manner of opposition. “You are not having a horse” my then husband repeated like a mantra deaf to my entreaties, this despite the fact that I had a well paid job in London and could afford to pay my share of all the bills and the mortgage and still have you. In the end I could bear it no longer I could not imagine my life without you. I wanted to have you before I became too old to enjoy you and I wanted us to have time to have fun together before I got too old to care for you. So I went out and got you.
You came into my life via a small advert in a copy of Horse and Hound magazine hidden among so many other adverts for so many other horses. Why did I choose you when I could have chosen so many others? The words “chestnut mare” drew me to you as I wanted a mare and chestnut was my favourite colour. I wanted to see you for myself. I persuaded my very good friend Jacqui to accompany me, made some excuse or other to my husband as to where we were disappearing to for the day and off we went to meet you.
And there you were. I saw you as soon as we parked up. Your head over the stable door. You were beautiful and I fell in love straight away, exactly what any experienced horse person will tell you not to do. When I rode you for the first time I felt that I was on a shining beacon of bright light and that we were visible for miles around. You behaved impeccably and after jumping you over a couple of small hurdles I decided to look no further. Arrangements were made and on Sunday, 31st October 1993 you arrived in my world. You were 6 years old.
After you settled in you realized what a complete amateur I was and being young you decided to take advantage, but with the help of Tania Ivory at Welwyn Equestrian Centre we managed to get back on track and form a partnership which grew over the years. I remember that time in particular when despite my extensive efforts you were refusing to walk past a hub cap by the side of the road. I kept you facing the direction we were headed in and just sat still trying to catch my breath. You listened to my rapid breaths from the effort of trying to make you move, then suddenly you heaved a big sigh and walked on by yourself. You had made the decision to do the right thing. That was the key. Allowing you to choose while helping you to make the correct choice. Putting you in a position where you wanted to do the right thing instead of arguing with you.
At one point you were going to come with me the USA. I had your fare saved up from the redundancy money I had received from my last job in London. People asked me why I didn’t think about selling you and buying another horse in the States. That would have been totally out of the question. If you didn’t go then I wasn’t going either. Then in the end neither of us went to the States anyway.
Over the years we moved around from place to place and I took over looking after you wholly by myself, as I no longer worked in London I couldn’t afford to have you on part livery so economized by doing DIY livery. I remember the freezing cold, dark mornings when I arrived to care for you before going to work. I remember being exhausted and aching all over from the very physical strain of lugging heavy bales of straw around and mucking out your stable. I remember the acute pain in my fingers and toes from freezing temperatures and repeating to myself over and over “I just want to go inside”. Times when I was too ill to get out of bed and yet nevertheless I got up and I made sure I did what was necessary to care for you. To my shame a couple of times I very nearly put you out on loan, such was my exhaustion of commuting to work, holding down a full time job and caring for you. But somehow I managed to hang on to you despite others encouraging me otherwise. I made choices and huge sacrifices to keep you that only I will ever know about.
You were never happier than when you were able to live outside all year round with a field shelter as you so hated being cooped up in a stable. In the end I was lucky enough to be able to have you in fields next to my home so I could see you from my windows every day. I didn’t want to move you from here. I knew you were happy and secure in the knowledge that I was just next door.
When you got too old to ride we still went out for walks together so you could get out of your field and see what was going on as well as snatch a few mouthfuls of grass on the way. As you grew older and started having problems getting up I remember checking on you late every night with my torch to make sure you were OK and the first thing I did every morning was look to make sure you were still standing up. Kate came every month to give you physio and you really enjoyed the attention as much as the benefit it brought your poor old muscles. It was payback time for all the years you had carried me around. Now it was my time to care for you and expect nothing in return.
I was adamant I had to be with you at the end. I wanted you to be calm, relaxed and at peace. I wanted you to be in familiar surroundings. I didn’t want you to suffer. I didn’t want you to be afraid. I had to steel myself to confront this. I didn’t want you to think anything was wrong. I didn’t want you to worry.
In the end you decided it was time to go. You just couldn’t make the tremendous effort to get up anymore despite all our endeavors. Your poor old legs were just too stiff. I was there with you. I fulfilled my promise to you. I fulfilled my duty to you. You slipped away peacefully while I stroked your face. Strangely you looked young again as if the years had floated away. I kissed you as the tears fell from my eyes. I tried to do the last thing one can do for a loved one, I tried to close your eyes but I couldn’t close them. The vet said that you cannot close a horse’s eye as the globe is too large. Funnily enough I never knew that. I know that now.