Feel and Come Back to Center

A week ago today I followed my Inner Voice and waited to go see Rayn until later in the day. I got to the farm about 3:00 and found the horses in their pasture, eating their afternoon hay. I stood with Rayn, looking out at the herd, and realized that one of the horses wasn't eating. Sweetie, a 24-year-old mare, had her back to her little pile of hay, head hanging low. I gave Rayn a final pat and walked toward the little mare. She was foaming at the mouth.

I brought Sweetie into the barn and returned to the pasture to get a whinnying Splash, Sweetie's best friend and protector. It was a chilly 15 degrees so Helen and I waited for the vet in her car. The vet found that Sweetie wasn't choking but she did have some ulcers on the inside of her mouth. She treated her with an anti-inflammatory and tubed a bucket of water into her to get her rehydrated. Three hours later we left Splash and Sweetie in side-by-side stalls in the barn to be checked on in the morning by her regular vet.

The next day Helen texted me that the vet thought that Sweetie had been chewing on her cheeks which caused them to become ulcerated. He floated her teeth, gave her some more pain-killers and sent them back into the pasture.

I didn't get back out to the farm again until Thursday. I almost didn't go because I only had 20 minutes to spend with Rayn but I listened to my Inner Voice and made a quick stop. Rayn started walking to me before I got to the fence. She walked right up and the first thought that popped into my head was, "Where's Sweetie?" I looked around the grazing herd but didn't see her. My heart lurched. Rayn continued to look steadily at me. I looked out into the pasture, no Sweetie. Finally I noticed a horse standing by itself on the ridge, close enough to the fence I had thought it belonged to the neighbor's herd. As I walked out to her, I passed Splash and asked him, "Why is she up there alone?" and Splash said, "It's time for her to go."

I found her with foam coming out of her nose and mouth.

Sweetie looked at me and away and said, "I can go." I asked her to come with me, that I could get her help. I touched her neck and she pinned her ears and snaked her head out at me. I told her again I could get her help and she just looked at me and said, "I can go." I told her I would tell Helen what she said. I also told Helen that I would like to be there with Sweetie if her owner couldn't, or be there to support her owner if she would like that.

That evening, Helen texted to say that Sweetie wasn't choking and that she was still having problems with the ulcers. She was just not able to recover due to her age. Her owner decided to euthanize on Friday morning. Helen and I both said we wished people could have the same death with dignity.*

Helping animals cross over that weren’t mine...well, I knew it was important but I never thought I'd be able to do such a thing. My first experience with it was Luke, a horse that I loved but wasn't mine. His navicular disease had gotten bad enough that his owner decided to let him go but she wasn't able to be there with him. I just couldn't let him cross on his own, with only the vet to be with him. He deserved to have a loved one near. All my life my Mom has said, "It's not about us, it's about them. We can't let them die alone." It was up to me.

I absolutely cry my way through every single animal that crosses over. I used to think those kind of tears would slam me into a depression and that I might actually die from sadness. (I’ve had a few bouts with depression in my life—the longest being the 8 years I lived with my first husband and the worst being the 5 years of not knowing what to do to help our family heal after Eva came home. So paralyzing depression and the uncontrollable crying that came with it are pretty scary to me.)

Each crossing teaches me something new. Every crossing teaches me one thing over and over: Sadness and tears don't cause depression, or death, or unending grief. Tears cleanse. Tears let that tight grief in my chest loosen. Allowing myself to feel, fully, is liberating and honest and true. Tears lighten the load that living sometimes piles on our shoulders.

Watching the animals I've been with walk forward into what some of us humans might call the "unknown", with no fear whatsoever…it's hard to be too sad when I see their truth.

This time around, with Sweetie, was different. This time, it was about Splash, her friend. I arrived at the barn about an hour earlier than the vet and found Splash out in the pasture, calling for Sweetie, who was in a stall. She was calling for him just as loudly. I grabbed my halter and went to get Splash. We started quickly walking to the barn (which is rare, I never see Splash move any faster than a shamble) and then he broke into a fast trot, calling out to Sweetie. I ran with him and their happy and relieved reunion had me in tears.

I turned them both loose in the indoor arena and sat with them. Every so often Splash would lead them both over to where I was sitting in the dirt and they would snuffle me. Sweetie was in pain and asked, "Are they coming?" and I told her the vet was on his way.

Sweetie on the left. Splash is the paint.

Sweetie's owner arrived and I went outside to give her some privacy. She was heartbroken. Sweetie had been with her since she was a 2-year-old filly.

The vet arrived and I asked if it was common for horses to stand with their friends while they crossed. He said yes and that Splash could stay. I was so thankful for the owner's ability to be with her horse so I could be with Splash. I stayed with him while Sweetie was given the injections to first sedate and then allow her to let go. Splash jerked a bit when she went down but was otherwise steady, holding space for his dear friend's crossing. I silently sobbed into his neck and told him I was so sorry.

The vet said it takes a few minutes for a horse's heart to stop and several had gone by when, suddenly, Splash shook his whole body, like he would after a good roll. I felt as if Sweetie was leaving her body, the vet took out his stethoscope to check, and she was "officially" gone. Splash sniffed her foot and continued to stand stock-still. The vet said I could take him back when I was ready. I waited a little longer and started back to the pasture. As I got closer I realized that most of the horses were waiting at the fence. Splash looked back in the direction of Sweetie and called to her. When we got to the gate he managed to pull the lead rope away from me and ran back to Sweetie's body, calling to her as he went. I stayed with him while he carefully sniffed his friend and then started grazing near her. I wondered how long he would have liked to stay there and got the feeling it would be a long time. I considered staying with him until the man who picks up the horse's body came and went but decided that I wasn't ready for that. Would that have been best for Splash? Would that have given him some sort of peace? I guess I'm at the point that if that is needed, next time I will make myself stay. He knew she was gone, I just don't know if watching her body being put in a truck and driven away would have helped him any. I took him back to the pasture and he stood at the fence and whinnied over and over.

I realized that just like us, horses recognize that a friend is gone and will have to go through the grieving process. Up to that point I had never been with a horse or dog that had done this. Last year I was with a friend when her older Border Collie crossed over. Her younger Border Collie had little reaction at the time. I wondered then, if maybe animals are just closer to God, more able to cope but realized with Splash, that no, they all cope differently. Splash was extremely bonded to Sweetie and his pain was searing and sharp.

Update from this morning:

I went out today and found Splash eating hay...he has stopped calling for his friend. I checked in with him and gave him some treats. He didn't have anything to say and his eyes are dull with sadness. He is grieving.

Me? I think the most important thing I came away with is my awareness that allowing myself to be deeply moved about life is a good thing. Sure, my feelings can be big and overwhelming, but you know what? Life can be big and overwhelming. I want to stop hiding from feeling it all. The joy and the pain. I watch my kids and they are so emotional. Their fear and their pain is out there for everyone to see, they are fully feeling it. Their joy is over the top--they are fully feeling it. 

They feel and they come back to center. Feel some more, come back to center. I don't want them to lose that and I want to gain it back.

A week ago I wrote this on a post-it and stuck it to my computer. Today, I'm feeling into what it really means to me:

*Death with Dignity (for humans): If you are interested in following or helping, check out Compassion and Choices who are working to get Death with Dignity bills passed.