What A Gentleman

I am sad to report that Christopher had to be euthanized yesterday around 3:30PM. He was simply too far gone, and all of the supportive care he'd been given had failed to improve his condition. He went very quietly and very happily, I think.

I don't normally blog about other people's horses, but Chris was such a special guy, and with such a huge heart. He was the foundation of the barn: nobody ever had anything but pleasant interactions with him. He was truly the greatest gentleman when it came to everything. He was bought years ago as a TW showhorse and brought up to VT from Kentucky. His owner competed with him and even after his show career ended he continued to be ridden on the trails, packing anyone and everyone from kids to seasoned riders. He was a pleasure to be around and truly a wonderful old man.

Everyone who reads here regularly knows how much of a soft-y I am for older horses. I spent almost two full days at the barn with Jessica, the barn owner, and Chris. The whole thing brought me right back to Ernie: I know how hard it is to make the decision to let a horse go, but as far as I'm concerned we are their guardians, and if we cannot make that decision when it matters the most, we should not have horses. I knew as soon as I saw him down two days ago that Chris wasn't going to make it: he had that look in his eye. He had checked out, already resigned himself to dying, and he was OK with it. However, whenever he was being cared for and fussed over, he would do everything to let us know he was putting on a good face. He was a stoic, amazingly loving old horse, right up to the end when his owner (an older woman with many health problems of her own) was brought out to say goodbye. He sat up and received her pats and praise with such love it was heartbreaking. As she was helped up by her son, he let out a sigh and laid back down, as if to say, "Thank you, I'm ready..." He already had an IV in, so the dosing was quick and painless.

I sometimes wonder if I'm a little sick: I sometimes put on sad songs just to cry, but I find the more I do it the better I feel. Sometimes healing takes a little coaxing, and being there for those who knew Chris better only brought me back to Ernie, and sitting in that field, watching the life escape his eyes, seeing Stella focused so intently on him, knowing he was so much better off. I miss him every day, and there was something oddly therapeutic about being a part of Chris's death (and life). I hope he and Ernie have met in that big sky pasture, and that they spend forever together in peace.

Goodbye, sweet boy. You were truly a gentleman to the very end. Rest in peace.