I'm not ready for this. I'll never be ready for this. I want him around forever, all of his crazy, weird neurotic self for all the rest of the days of my life. I miss him when I'm not at the barn: the feeling is like I've broken up with a boyfriend and regret the decision every moment of every day.
I wish I'd had him 10 years earlier than I did. I watched him trot around the pasture with Stella a few days ago, neck arched proudly, not a lame step, cantering beautifully uphill and with such balance I cried. He's still in there somewhere, I thought, that horse is still there.
But he's losing weight slowly, even the muscle that he was holding onto is going. His coat isn't slick and shiny like it's been most summers. It's got the remnants of Cushings, still fuzzy and thicker than it should be. He continues to be bright-eyed most days, but I can see him slowly settling. Sometimes he's really neurotic, head jerking and afraid he's being left alone. Other days I see the horse I know best, the in-your-pocket pony who just wants to be loved and cared for and assured that he's safe. And yet other days he lets the swagger and confidence I know is there out, prancing around protecting his turf and defending Stella from invaders and nosy neighboring horses.
It will never be the same. I'm terrified of the empty stall, the door without a halter, the still air that's no longer filled with nickers when I come in.
I've been tearing up at random points, as I watch him graze or think of my life without him. Am I really doing the right thing, is this what's best, what if I'm wrong...all of these questions are picking at my brain like buzzards circling over me. I don't know if they'll ever go away.
June 27th. The time couldn't go slowly enough.
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