A dear friend of mine lost her mare, Cedars BlueMoon, today. Blue was 23 and, in her day, was a mischeivous, playful, smart little Arabian mare. She was also a 3/4 sister to Isis’ dam, Cedars del Taliah. Blue was a bay with four white socks and a pretty white marking on her head.
I tried to explain to a friend what it is like to lose a horse. There is nothing that prepares you, even when you know it’s coming. The whole they leave is a 1,000 pound emptiness in your life. My horses are my kids (I don’t have children).
A vacant stall, halters, tack… But then you remember all of the crazy antics, the trail rides and “monsters”, and how many times that horse made you smile or laugh. And you realize that as huge a hole they left, your life would have been so much poorer without them.
I have few comparison points with dogs. I have loved my cats, but it’s different with horses. You and your horse trust each other with your lives every time you ride. The horse trusts you, as a herd mate, to guide and protect. And you trust the horse to be calm and steady (most of the time). You have a real working relationship with give and take. Some days are arguments and others are perfect.
I’ve been rolled on/under, kicked, bit, stomped, and slammed into the wall by horses. And yet I keep coming back. I can’t imagine life without horses. When someone like me loses a horse, it’s like a part of yourself dies with that horse.
Until you remember their antics, the things about that horse that made that horse special. It’s not just the horse that is special. It’s that undefinable relationship and partnership you have when you find a horse that you connect with. Blue and Mary Lou had that connection. Isis and I have that connection.
Here is to beautiful horses, fine Arabian friends, who have blessed our lives in so many ways. Here is to Blue, the cute little filly who was so tiny she could walk under her mother’s belly just by lowering her head. Here is to Indian Symphony, Isis’ grandmother, our first Arabian mare and the first mare we lost to colic.
Here is to all of our special herdmates who have passed on before us and their owners who headed to the barn to say hello and found an empty stall. Our horses are very much missed but their antics keep us smiling.