Saying Goodbye

I must say, I am getting tired of saying goodbye to my pets.  We lost our beloved Abby last summer and last week, I had to say farewell to a part of my childhood. 

I was volunteering at my kids school when I received a call from The Dairy Farmer saying that my horse, Rocky had died.  It's bittersweet.  It's never easy to loose a friend, but he was 40 and we knew that, at some time, we would have to make a decision.  Heck, I've been "making THE decision" for the last 9 years!

In keeping with tradition, I will tell our story and it will help me heal.   I got this horse when I was 9.  He had to be hauled from upstate PA....I had never seen him nor ridden him and I was about to be terrified.  Apparently, he was trailer phobic and copious amounts of drugs were required to get him to our stable.  

   A friend of mine rode him for the first time and I watched, in wide eyed fear, as he had a temper tantrum....rearing up and flipping over backwards.  Needless to say, he was a young punk of a horse and I decided to stick with riding my pony, Ginger.  Who needed a full size horse anyway?

Time went on and he settled in.  He really was a great horse, a big sweetie who had a fondness for poptarts, french fries and drinking coke right from a can.  We enjoyed trail rides and the occasional horse show.   I do recall showing at the Franklin County Fair one year.  Rocky had a penchant for loading just fine at the barn, but once it was time to leave the show, that darn horse wouldn't get back on the trailer.  We spent many hours trying to blindfold and load him....until it was dark and we are loading by flashlight.   He had a mind of his own.   We moved a few times during my child hood and kept on dragging that horse along with us- due to the trailering issue, I found myself riding him to his new boarding facilities. 

When it was time for me to go to college, we decided it was time to sell him.  A few people came to look at him, but when it came down to it.....I just couldn't.  I contacted Wilson College and they came to get him to use as a lesson horse.  I thought....here we go.....this horse is gonna throw a fit when they show up with that trailer.  Much to my surprise, he walked on like he had been doing it this way forever.   I was happy to know where he was.....and when it was time for him to retire from lessons, I would be the first call to take him back! 

The day came, about 13 years later.   Wilson called and said he was ready to retire, his arthritis was just too bad for him to continue.  Did I want him back?  If not, they had a waiting list of people who were interested.   A little back story......The Dairy Farmer wanted a boat and wanted it bad.   I wanted to have a horse at some point and after a discussion, a note was written and hung on our refrigerator.  It stated that:  The Dairy Farmer, being of sound mind and body, hereby stated that his wife would have a horse before he had a boat.   Needless to say, we had a boat in our backyard and I had no horse.

When the call came, I was very excited to bring Rocky to our home.  The Dairy Farmer....was not.  He was wondering how much an ancient, arthritic hay burner was going to cost him.  We had 2 young children....and my time was devoted to them.  We had one in private school....so our money was devoted to that.  Was it really a wise choice to bring home an aging horse?  It was very hard to admit that he was right.    And I prepared myself to call Wilson and tell them to give my horse away.  

Then.....the DF walked in the house and said......call them, tell them to bring your horse home.  He knew how long I had been waiting to get him back.  This horse WAS my childhood.  Hours were spent at the barn:  cleaning, grooming, riding....kept me out of trouble.  How could we not bring him home?

He arrived the summer of 2003....and he looked great.  He did have arthritis, but it wasn't too bad.  We could hop on and ride for short periods of time and never in a million years, would I have thought my kids would be riding my childhood horse.

We never would've thought we'd be saying goodbye to him 9 years later.  He was old.  He had no teeth.  I made his food into mush so he could slurp it down.  He was thin.  I struggled every year with putting him down.  But, one look in his loving brown eyes which were still bright and clear.....and watching him gallop out through the field every morning....I knew he wasn't ready.  My hoof trimmer and vet always said, 4 good feet and a strong heart have taken him far.  When I would ask the vet how long?  She would say "shhh.....he doesn't know how old he is." 

I miss him. 

I miss his soft nose nibbling on my shirt, looking for snacks.  I miss him yelling at me when I would go in to let him outside (he HATED being inside), I miss him itching his head on my back.  But, I am thankful that I didn't have to make that awful decision and that he died on his own.  And I am thankful that we live on a farm and were able to bury him here.  He is beside our first mastiff, Nittany and our sweet girl, Abby.  It's a place of honor. 

Good Bye Rock Star......thank you for all the memories......