I awoke with a start last night at an hour long before the moon was ready to give up its place in the sky. My mind was foggy, confused. I tried to go back to sleep before I could remember what I was holding at bay with sleep, but it all came crashing back with a whoosh, so quick I could practically feel the thrum of the after burners in my mind. And then I remembered what had happened earlier- My horse got sick (mine by default but not on paper; she was loaned to me on a sort of ‘long-term lease’ to be a companion for my horse, the one who captures my heart with his ‘hello’ whinnies. It happened so quick, but it seemed so harmless at first, that when she couldn’t breathe without rattling or eat or even drink without water and food particles rushing out her nose and throat, we were surprised. And when the vet said it would be inhumane to help keep her alive til morning, let alone a few extra days to make preparations, we were unprepared.
I’d never seen death before, not really. So when, a few minutes after the vet administered the first vaccine, she crashed to the ground in a full-body paralysis (she was not in pain and was not even aware of what was happening at this point), the accompanying thud reverberated in my ears, and I felt her last ragged breaths as my own. The emotions were so high (her rightful owners were with us through the whole process), and the tears so real, that my heart has been depressed since last night. So, here’s to Indi:
An ode to life, an ode to breath. An ode to the inability to know what will happen next, but to hold a seed of faith that all will turn out as it’s meant to. An ode to the tears of sorrow that follow a being’s suffering that turn to sorrow at their passing; tears that hold the sweet truth that nothing really ends, just changes form. An ode to Indian Doll, may you run freely once again.