Monday, 10 September 2012
There are so many memories. The times you took off with me, and I wasn't sure whether we would stop; you never seemed to tire. The spooking at imaginary hazards, and some not so imaginary. That place where a gate leads up to the top of the hill, and you knew that if we went through it, it would take longer to get home. You would tiptoe past that gate, hoping I hadn't noticed, and if you got your way, you would then put on a triumphant burst of speed and tear home.
We spent many hours on the downs together, you looking for things to spook at, and me writing stories in my head and absorbing the stunning views. People would stop us to admire you, and of course they were right. You were so beautiful, and you always attracted attention. I believe that you enjoyed it.
We were out together, that last time, a week ago today. A beautiful sunny day, and we had cantered round the wheat fields, and were on our way home, when disaster struck. It was out of the blue, for both of us; competely unexpected, for you had been so well and so happy.
Titch, you were in such pain, and we couldn't do anything to help you. The vet came as soon as he could, but it seemed as though we had to wait for ever. You kept leaping to your feet, kicking and struggling, fighting the pain, before collapsing again until you were exhausted. There was nothing we could do to reassure you; no comfort we could offer. You were, literally, beyond help. That picture has haunted me all week; your beautiful dark body, under a tree, against the green of the grass.
And that's where you died. The vet came just in time to do that for you, and as I saw the light fade from your eyes for the last time, I sat beside you and wept. It all seemed such a terrible waste.
I miss you terribly. I miss the sound of your whicker when you heard me coming, and your soft nose and that enquiring look you gave when you wanted a titbit. I miss our hacks together and I miss just looking at you and being with you. I miss everything about you.
One day, I shall get another horse, but I know that there will never be another one like you. You are, quite simply, irreplaceable.
(Please forgive me if you find this sentimental, but I needed to write it)