Dear Kit,
It's been so long. I know time flies but I have thought of you every one of the roughly 1,590 days since May 19, 2006 when I had to let you go.
The pain has faded but oh God, I sure do miss the one who listened to me unfailingly and without judgment every time I needed it.
I still go to visit your grave when I need you, and I'm so sorry that I've missed watching the last sunset of the year on New Year's Eve as I did for the 18 years we were together.
But I thought of you that night and wished you were still here.
Lots of horses have come and gone since you; however, none have or will ever take your place in my heart.
I keep searching for you in every pair of dark brown eyes I look into but you are never there.
And, though I know we had our moments, somehow you stand out in my mind as the gold standard of horses. Every one is weighed and measured against you, and every one is found lacking. Do you think it's like that for everyone and their most memorable horse? Shoud that be considered unfair to the others that come after? You know, that know one will ever fill your footprints.
Floyd is still wonderful, and I forgave him last year when he colicked for being a part of your horrible fatal accident. Sunny is still there, and I can tell that his bully attitude is a direct result of the hell you put him through.
And there is Otis, who you would have loved. Otis's show name is SpongeBob Squarepants. This has to be the happiest horse on earth. He is so damn happy go lucky, I swear he must be eating shrooms in his pasture. And the shrooms would account for his hallucinations. God, the other day that fool rolled around in this big pile of mud, stood up, shook, then rolled on the other side. He stood, stretched, perused the horizon, then obviously spied a scary turd or two, leapt 5 ft. in the air, farted, and that spooked him so much, he RAN to Floyd's and Sunny's sides for safety. Whereupon, Sunny promptly bit him right on the withers, a distinctive move we now call the Sunny special.
Otis is what we lovingly refer to as "a damn mess." He is huge, gorgeous, and completely clueless. A real valley girl. At the dressage show last weekend, he spooked at a miniscule piece of mud and pinned a fat lady against the arena railing. Sheesh. Rocks in the driveway scare him. Rocks that he sees daily and that never move.
We've got Echo, who looks just like you, and whom I refer to as my chance for redemption(because I couldn't save you.) Echo is permanently crippled from a racing career but he is also a happy, grateful guy. Funny thing about him, he doesn't kick, he bucks. So when Pepe tries to steal his food, he squeals and bucks at him. Of course Pepe, being about 24 inches tall and about 4 ft. wide, squeals right back at him. Damn donk, as Cole would say. It takes about 45 minutes for Echo to eat his food, between all of the squealing and bucking. And I'll chase fat boy Juicy off of poor blind Daisy Mae when she is eating but Echo has a fighting chance. He can see the enemy at least.
And Cole. My little boy(you are the first horse he ever rode) is now 5 and a real pain in addition to being the best thing that came into my life besides you of course.
Pepe the mini donk is Cole's. Superfunny, that donk is in a coma 99% of the time. He comes alive A) when he sees Cole running through the pasture headed straight at him, and B) the second Cole turns around to ride him backwards. It sounds mean but I almost wet my pants laughing every time he bucks that kid off. Then he takes off and does the limbo under the fence and Cole is running right after him. Oh God, it's hilarious. I swear some days they must cover that entire 60 acres twice over with Cole chasing Pepe, trying to catch him.
In addition to several other horses, we have a pony. This cute, innocent appearing(looks are very deceptive I've learned), little pillow with legs is supposed to be Cole's and Lisa's kids' pony, and sometimes he is, and sometimes he's ours, and sometimes he is basically a feral mustange that I'm certain the BLM would opt to shoot rather than round up and adopt out.
This damn pony has about 18 names. His primary names are Blackberry, the shit-ass pony(Cole's idea), and Juicy.
This effin pony sometimes makes me want to slit my wrists and/or drive off a bridge. At least 19 times a week, which comes out to almost 2.5 times a day. However somedays he's okay, which means that others, I would rather kill myself than him. That would take less time than chasing him down. Besides, he'd probably trip me and I'd get injured on whatever instrument of torture I'd grabbed to handle him.
Jenna called the other night. She said, "Don't tell me, you are feeding the horses. I know this by now. But why are you breathing so hard?"
I replied "Dude, do you have to ask?"
Jenna's response "Don't tell me. I already know you are chasing that shit-ass pony to keep him from stealing your blind mare's food."
Me: "Correct. However, he is also stealing the 30 yr. old mare, Nanners' food tonight. They are about 75 yards apart and the second I chase him away from one, he runs to the other. So I run to the other. And so on, and so on. I've already scratched my back ducking under the wood fence. And caught my foot in the electric fence and fell face down in the mud. I lost my favorite hair clip because I snagged it on the top rail of the electric fence when I ducked through. I tripped on the hose and unknowingly pulled it out of the trough so instead of filling the trough, I've been making a huge mud puddle for 30 minutes."
Jenna: "Man, that pony sucks. But, if you got rid of him, you'd weigh 412 lbs in about a month from not chasing him anymore."
Me: "Yeah thanks. Don't remind me."
Jenna: "Are you still hurting from when he dumped you on the way to the mailbox"
Me: "What do you think?"
Later on in the night we were talking and I screamed as I noticed a dark shape circle my car as I got out to close the gates for the night. I tried to awaken at least one of my dogs, who did nothing but ignore the impending sense of doom that pervaded the night. Well, not Chico. Chico mistook me for an illegal immigrant who had just stolen his bike(and Social Security benefits) and threatened to tear me apart from limb to limb. I think that damn dog needs glasses.
I knew I'd have to protect myself. I tried to grab my phone but the cord was wrapped around the stirrup of my show saddle still in my backseat(and covered with fruit loops stuck on by kidnergarten glue). So, no phone. I waited for the ax murderer to take me.
Guess who. Yep, Juicy, the shit-ass pony, had escaped and tried to follow me home. Right out of the farm gates. I opened the gates and tried to shoo him in. Who cares about putting him in a pasture, at this point, I just wanted him on the property. Nope, he did cartwheels and handsprings around my car in the dark until I opened the gates back up, drove through, drove all the way back to the feed room, got a bucket with grain, and drove back up to the front of the property to catch him. As I got out to lure him, he tore past me and galloped to the arena, did the pony limbo under the next two railings, and bolted out to his herd. I swear, I think he thinks up games to jack with my mind.
Anyway Kit, I wish you were here to give this pony the whupping he needs. He's a bad, bad pony. And he looooves me, so what does that say about me? :-)
I sure do wish you were around to see this place I've created. Everything has been with you in mind: the large pastures, no stalls, etc., etc. And geez, the characters that come through.
We had the cat lady who didn't even have a horse out there but showed up at least once a day to feed the cats(that I never saw again.) She created this sort of spa/bed and breakfast behind the barn that probably rivaled Zsa Zsa Gabor's set up for her animals. I never saw those cats once in the several months that she came around but man, I saw her every damn day. And she did not like me. (Boo hoo :-D)
We had the woman who pulled her horse out and waited patiently for her turn on the vet/farrier/dentist day. When the vet stepped up to administer her horse's shots, she started shrieking that vaccines actually kill horses and she didn't believe in them. Well, what the hell was she standing there for 20 minutes?
Nor did she believe in the equine dentist. Nor did she believe that farrier methods were adequate. She wanted an orthodontist for her horse and a podiatrist. Seriously? For his braces and his bunions???? This is the same woman who hauled her poor senior horse several hours to my place then decided she was too tired to unload him so she was going to take him to her house and let him sleep in the trailer(sized for a keebler elf!!) all night. When I nixed that idea, she drove about 65 miles down the dirt road(packed with more tank trap potholes than Vietnam), banging that trailer and poor horse right along behind her. When she left, I swear, it was such a huge weight off my shoulders.
There have been too many more horses to name and too many more crazy boarders to go into too much detail tonight. I can fill you in another night.
And even though I cried as I wrote the first few paragraphs of this post, I feel a little more peaceful now.
I miss you.
