I wish you were here
Call me silly, call me worrisome, call me whatever you want.
It seems the past while, crying myself to sleep has become a regular thing. I've been in sour spirits for the past few weeks. Getting out of bed in the morning is becoming a chore. The only reason I've gotten up to go to work is because I have a key, and because my customers are my responsibility.
I'll admit it. Thursday last week, I didn't have a headache. At least not initially. I just woke up and freakin' cried. I couldn't make myself move. I got to work, a full hour late. I'm ashamed of myself. And yet I'm just so worn.
And I know what you're thinking. It's just a job. And she's just a horse.
I can't even begin to explain how much my heart breaks knowing that in the very near future, I could go home and never see that beautiful, white face again. I'll never lock my fingers into that ebony mane. I'll never bury my face against that cotton neck. I'll never feel her head on my shoulder, her breath in my face.
She'll never quietly stand guard with me, warding the other girls away. She'll never perk up when I come home, or give me that look she's perfected to win treats from me. She'll never push her nose into that halter because she knows she's going to get spoiled, or tug on the rope to get that one last nibble of grass. She won't dump her grain just so she can take an extra twenty minutes in your company to clean it up. I could go on forever, listing thise little things she does, or the things we've shared, just her and I.
Of all the horses I've ever worked with, Kandee is undoubtedly me horse. I am undoubtedly her girl. It kills me inside to know the last time I stood with her, brushed her, cooed to her, and leaned on her could very well be THE last time.
She's just a horse, but she's one of a kind. There won't ever be another Kandee. Not in my life, and of everything going on, she is what gets me the most. I can't even explain it. I've cried harder for her in the past week, knowing that I could lose her, than I have for family members I've lost.
I wonder if she's already told me goodbye. This is the horse that needed to sulk for a full day before she wouls come see me, when I would come home. But this time, ahe didn't even perk up when she heard me whistling. I came over that hill and saw her looking so dismal, her head drooped to the ground, her ears flat. Her coat was healthy, but dull. Her expression was bland, unexciting, and blank. There was nothing to her. Her back had dropped. The muscles in her rump were taut and wirey at best. I could count every rib. I shattered. I was ready to sit right there and cry. That wasn't my Kandee. My Kandee was a horse who could throw her hip out of joint, to the point where she could barely walk, and still be happy as a clam, because I was okay. My Kandee was a horse who would put herself in anything, to see me safe.
My Kandee is dying.
But when she saw me... When she lifted her head, it was like all life came back. Her eyes just lit up. Her head raised, her ears perked, and she couldn't get to me fast enough. Her little head bobbed so much in her excitement. She was just so happy. She shoved her nose into me like she was saying Hug Me Damn It. It was all I could do to pet her. I was already crying.
When I opened the halter, she shoved her nose in with happy abandon. She walked beside me like a queen. Her knees were shaking when we reached the gate. She was wheezing. But she just kept watching me. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was just going: you're back! You're back! I missed you so much.
I stood with her for hours, just brushing her while she grazed. I got all the dust and dander off her coat. I even took the time to brush out her mane and tail, which was a chore I dreaded. But Kandee is a queen. My queen. She deserves it and everything else.
And she is my Kandee because, everytime I was at her shoulder, she would lift her head and watch me, then turn her head to place her muzzle on my hip and just breathe. Her eyes never left me. And we would just stand there like that for a minute. Maybe more. Then resume as we were, grazing and brushing. Maybe she was consoling me. Maybe saying good bye.
When I buried my face in her neck and wrapped my arms around her, she leaned right back into me, like she couldn't stand to be anything but close. And when I would walk to get her something, she was right beside me. Like she would follow me anywhere, so long as there was the promise that she could come.
She didn't eat all of the mixture I'd made her, and she munched the whole time with my hand on her forelock. She nibbled at my toes, as was custom, and then grazed some more.
It was when she decided she was done, when she came up to stand beside me, relaxed and content, that my heart broke again. Like a diligent soldier, she'd come to stand post beside me for a good ten or so minutes, like it was all she had to do to keep complacent and happy. She stood, and I sat. But it was without fail, our moment. My diligent Kandee. Sometimes I still wonder who takes care of who.
Leading her back, there was no half hearted nibble of grass. Once the halter was off, she hogged me for scratches, pats, and kisses.
Closing the gate and walking away was the hardest thing I'd ever done.
It feels like so much to ask of my old maid, my fatty, my nag, my Kandee...
But please, old girl. Hang on and wait for me. There's no way I could let you go alone. I can barely stand to be this far from home, leaving you like that.
So I'll cry myself to sleep another night, because the next time I go home, I have to plan, plot, and watch the death of my longest running friend.
I don't think there is any greater heart ache, for a horse person, than a girl who has to lose her best horse.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.
It seems the past while, crying myself to sleep has become a regular thing. I've been in sour spirits for the past few weeks. Getting out of bed in the morning is becoming a chore. The only reason I've gotten up to go to work is because I have a key, and because my customers are my responsibility.
I'll admit it. Thursday last week, I didn't have a headache. At least not initially. I just woke up and freakin' cried. I couldn't make myself move. I got to work, a full hour late. I'm ashamed of myself. And yet I'm just so worn.
And I know what you're thinking. It's just a job. And she's just a horse.
I can't even begin to explain how much my heart breaks knowing that in the very near future, I could go home and never see that beautiful, white face again. I'll never lock my fingers into that ebony mane. I'll never bury my face against that cotton neck. I'll never feel her head on my shoulder, her breath in my face.
She'll never quietly stand guard with me, warding the other girls away. She'll never perk up when I come home, or give me that look she's perfected to win treats from me. She'll never push her nose into that halter because she knows she's going to get spoiled, or tug on the rope to get that one last nibble of grass. She won't dump her grain just so she can take an extra twenty minutes in your company to clean it up. I could go on forever, listing thise little things she does, or the things we've shared, just her and I.
Of all the horses I've ever worked with, Kandee is undoubtedly me horse. I am undoubtedly her girl. It kills me inside to know the last time I stood with her, brushed her, cooed to her, and leaned on her could very well be THE last time.
She's just a horse, but she's one of a kind. There won't ever be another Kandee. Not in my life, and of everything going on, she is what gets me the most. I can't even explain it. I've cried harder for her in the past week, knowing that I could lose her, than I have for family members I've lost.
I wonder if she's already told me goodbye. This is the horse that needed to sulk for a full day before she wouls come see me, when I would come home. But this time, ahe didn't even perk up when she heard me whistling. I came over that hill and saw her looking so dismal, her head drooped to the ground, her ears flat. Her coat was healthy, but dull. Her expression was bland, unexciting, and blank. There was nothing to her. Her back had dropped. The muscles in her rump were taut and wirey at best. I could count every rib. I shattered. I was ready to sit right there and cry. That wasn't my Kandee. My Kandee was a horse who could throw her hip out of joint, to the point where she could barely walk, and still be happy as a clam, because I was okay. My Kandee was a horse who would put herself in anything, to see me safe.
My Kandee is dying.
But when she saw me... When she lifted her head, it was like all life came back. Her eyes just lit up. Her head raised, her ears perked, and she couldn't get to me fast enough. Her little head bobbed so much in her excitement. She was just so happy. She shoved her nose into me like she was saying Hug Me Damn It. It was all I could do to pet her. I was already crying.
When I opened the halter, she shoved her nose in with happy abandon. She walked beside me like a queen. Her knees were shaking when we reached the gate. She was wheezing. But she just kept watching me. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was just going: you're back! You're back! I missed you so much.
I stood with her for hours, just brushing her while she grazed. I got all the dust and dander off her coat. I even took the time to brush out her mane and tail, which was a chore I dreaded. But Kandee is a queen. My queen. She deserves it and everything else.
And she is my Kandee because, everytime I was at her shoulder, she would lift her head and watch me, then turn her head to place her muzzle on my hip and just breathe. Her eyes never left me. And we would just stand there like that for a minute. Maybe more. Then resume as we were, grazing and brushing. Maybe she was consoling me. Maybe saying good bye.
When I buried my face in her neck and wrapped my arms around her, she leaned right back into me, like she couldn't stand to be anything but close. And when I would walk to get her something, she was right beside me. Like she would follow me anywhere, so long as there was the promise that she could come.
She didn't eat all of the mixture I'd made her, and she munched the whole time with my hand on her forelock. She nibbled at my toes, as was custom, and then grazed some more.
It was when she decided she was done, when she came up to stand beside me, relaxed and content, that my heart broke again. Like a diligent soldier, she'd come to stand post beside me for a good ten or so minutes, like it was all she had to do to keep complacent and happy. She stood, and I sat. But it was without fail, our moment. My diligent Kandee. Sometimes I still wonder who takes care of who.
Leading her back, there was no half hearted nibble of grass. Once the halter was off, she hogged me for scratches, pats, and kisses.
Closing the gate and walking away was the hardest thing I'd ever done.
It feels like so much to ask of my old maid, my fatty, my nag, my Kandee...
But please, old girl. Hang on and wait for me. There's no way I could let you go alone. I can barely stand to be this far from home, leaving you like that.
So I'll cry myself to sleep another night, because the next time I go home, I have to plan, plot, and watch the death of my longest running friend.
I don't think there is any greater heart ache, for a horse person, than a girl who has to lose her best horse.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.