Since I began this blog, I've tried to keep it completely "Claire", with a heavy slant toward publishing, writing, and promotions for both myself and my fellow authors. But I write for a reason -- it's therapeutic -- and I am a writer, which means I'm typically good with written word, not so much spoken word.Besides, today I've decided this is my blog. I can write what I want to. Period.
And today I need to say goodbye to a cherished friend. Look closely, the horse on the left is the horse on the cover of Waiting For Yes... His name is WDA Orion, and he was a dream come true.
Not only for my breeding futures, or the business plan for my Arabian breeding program. No, this handsome man was a friend. Like so many Arabians, he had a personality that refused to let him be "just a horse" or "just a business investment." Not only was he breathtaking to look at, he was breathtaking to be around. He communicated with me through his eyes. When we drove into the farm, he came running up to the car door and waited for us to get out. Once or twice, he even tried to follow us into the house. Would have, if we hadn't ushered him right back outside.
Today I'm wishing I had let him come in and explore just once. See what he might have done. The big urine spot I was so afraid of, doesn't seem all that significant in the wake of losing one of the most special horses I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
By nature of the beast, I've become accustomed to losing equine friends. Each one takes a little bit of something, but some of them really grab on and hold tight. Orion was one of them. He toted my sons around on his back, bareback, without any thought to the mares around him. He knew those little boys loved him, and gosh darn it, he was going to take care of them. And he did.
And now he's gone, a victim to the fragile beast called "horse". This morning he twisted a section of his intestine, and we quietly bid him goodbye in the boarding facitily where I spent my early years with people I consider second family. The old man even nuzzled me while I wept into his fuzzy neck, as if to tell me "It's okay." As if he wasn't the one in pain.
When I lost my Thoroughbred stallion two years ago, I almost left horses completely. The barn wasn't the same without his head poking over the bars and his gentle spirit there to greet me each morning. Today I experienced the same mixed bag of emotions. Orion helped me through that earlier loss, and now it just seems... surreal... that he's gone too.
Strange, how life comes full circle, and he left this world in the one place where I truly discovered my pasion for horses. One stall down from the stall my first horse inhabited. The very stall my third horse, and my first stallion, called home. Maybe he and Zakk are playing in green pastures together -- they both loved the company of others, even other stallions.
Anyway... No need to dwell on this with all of you reading. But I needed to voice my thoughts. Thank you for listening.
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
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It's so very hard to say goodbye to an Arabian. Like you, my little girl had the same dark chestnut color, the same flaxen mane and tail. I can't tell you the hurt that swelled in me looking at your sweet man. My baby did the same for my children and their cousins. She was a safe ride, a caring ride and I know she wouldn't hurt a fly. Her death at 28 has left me void. I so miss her. Yes, the days make that ache go away just a little less, but it will always be there along with the smiles. Those smiles will get you through. Hang in Claire. Yes, the blog is a good one. Keep it. He would have appreciated it. Bless you.
Nan
I'm not a horse person but I understand the loss of a valued animal that seemed more human than humans Avery was our cherished 'kitty boy', if you can call a cat with four wheel drive and built like a tank a 'kitty boy'. He and my husband had this understanding and male bonding that made him more family than a pet.
Your stallion sounds much the same. Give them an inch and they'll tear your heart out, but it's worth every tear you shed. That spot inside will never be completely healed, scabbed over, yes, but healed--no. Enjoy the good memories of your friend.