Fred. Crossposted from myspace because I don't want to re-write it.
It's 10h37 as I start this blog.
Exactly one year ago today I was waiting my checked baggage at the Savannah airport.
I'd just flown in from St John.
During my layover in Atlanta (the flight of which was, of course, delayed) I'd recieved a text message asking where I was. After some panic on my part and begging, Cara finally revealed that Dell had a bellyache. I freaked out, thinking of Duke of course...and all during that flight I was too preoccupied with nerves that I didn't even pause to panic at the actual act of flying.
When I got back to Savannah, I had received several more text messages, stating that Dell was on his way to Edisto, and that Fred had developed a minor bellyache.
Gill picked me up and we went straight to the barn, I still in my capris and birkenstocks. We got there to find Dana and Wayne walking Fred.
He wasn't getting any better. Dr Lewis came back out and started him on IVs. I don't recall how many bags went into him before Cara and Jason came back to pick him up. They'd basically dropped Dell off, and brought the trailer right back to pick up Fred.
As the trailer pulled up, I had this horrible feeling this was the last time I'd see him. I didn't want to leave him. But Cara told me I couldn't go.
I listened. I didn't go.
Every time I say I have no regrets, I'm lying.
I should have gone. I should have been there with him. He trusted me as much as I trusted him. I couldn't have helped, but at least I could have offered him comfort.
I went home and drank myself to sleep.
When I woke up at six AM, I knew he was gone. I cried myself back to sleep.
When Cara called me at 9, I knew it wasn't good news. I just collapsed.
It still hurts. Every day I think about him, and I miss him like crazy. It never goes away. I just can't believe I'm not going to look into those beautiful brown eyes again.
At his bale burning, they asked me to give the eulogy. I couldn't. I know I sounded ridiculous. I'm a horrible public speaker. I tried. I was just so overcome with emotions I couldn't even speak.
He was the most amazing being that I've ever come in contact with. He was like the other half of me. When I was driving him, or riding him, or even just spending time with him, I felt complete. No matter how lost I was, I could come to the barn, hop up on Fred and go. He never asked questions, he never judged, he trusted me completely. And I trusted him. I think if I'd have asked him to jump off a cliff, he'd have done it before the words left my mouth. Nothing could hurt him while I was there, and all of my hurt left me. It was bliss.
We had our disagreements, but they never changed our relationship, perhaps made it stronger. That last night I was there with him, I left him with Gill and Dana so I could get boots not birkenstocks. I disappeared behind the car and he looked for me. I just wish I could have made things right.
It's not fair that he was taken from us like that. I hate that he went out in pain. It's not fair all we have left of him is a few photos, some memories, and some bits of his tail.
I lost more than just a horse, just a coworker last year. I lost my team mate, my partner, my best friend. And it hurts.
Exactly one year ago today I was waiting my checked baggage at the Savannah airport.
I'd just flown in from St John.
During my layover in Atlanta (the flight of which was, of course, delayed) I'd recieved a text message asking where I was. After some panic on my part and begging, Cara finally revealed that Dell had a bellyache. I freaked out, thinking of Duke of course...and all during that flight I was too preoccupied with nerves that I didn't even pause to panic at the actual act of flying.
When I got back to Savannah, I had received several more text messages, stating that Dell was on his way to Edisto, and that Fred had developed a minor bellyache.
Gill picked me up and we went straight to the barn, I still in my capris and birkenstocks. We got there to find Dana and Wayne walking Fred.
He wasn't getting any better. Dr Lewis came back out and started him on IVs. I don't recall how many bags went into him before Cara and Jason came back to pick him up. They'd basically dropped Dell off, and brought the trailer right back to pick up Fred.
As the trailer pulled up, I had this horrible feeling this was the last time I'd see him. I didn't want to leave him. But Cara told me I couldn't go.
I listened. I didn't go.
Every time I say I have no regrets, I'm lying.
I should have gone. I should have been there with him. He trusted me as much as I trusted him. I couldn't have helped, but at least I could have offered him comfort.
I went home and drank myself to sleep.
When I woke up at six AM, I knew he was gone. I cried myself back to sleep.
When Cara called me at 9, I knew it wasn't good news. I just collapsed.
It still hurts. Every day I think about him, and I miss him like crazy. It never goes away. I just can't believe I'm not going to look into those beautiful brown eyes again.
At his bale burning, they asked me to give the eulogy. I couldn't. I know I sounded ridiculous. I'm a horrible public speaker. I tried. I was just so overcome with emotions I couldn't even speak.
He was the most amazing being that I've ever come in contact with. He was like the other half of me. When I was driving him, or riding him, or even just spending time with him, I felt complete. No matter how lost I was, I could come to the barn, hop up on Fred and go. He never asked questions, he never judged, he trusted me completely. And I trusted him. I think if I'd have asked him to jump off a cliff, he'd have done it before the words left my mouth. Nothing could hurt him while I was there, and all of my hurt left me. It was bliss.
We had our disagreements, but they never changed our relationship, perhaps made it stronger. That last night I was there with him, I left him with Gill and Dana so I could get boots not birkenstocks. I disappeared behind the car and he looked for me. I just wish I could have made things right.
It's not fair that he was taken from us like that. I hate that he went out in pain. It's not fair all we have left of him is a few photos, some memories, and some bits of his tail.
I lost more than just a horse, just a coworker last year. I lost my team mate, my partner, my best friend. And it hurts.