Monday, 10 September 2012

In Memoriam

The day I first met you, you had travelled from Wales, and were standing shyly at the back of your box; big, leggy, dark, with huge brown eyes These were new surroundings, we were new people; you weren't sure what to make of any of us. But later on, we went for a gentle hack, and we started to get to know one another.

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)


  1. Sentimental? No. I wish I could have expressed loss, when I suffered it, as completely as you have. (I initially wrote 'released' rather than 'expressed', then realised that was presumptuous - as is this whole comment!) Stay brave!

  2. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever read.

    Take care, my friend, and allow yourself to grieve. I wish all animals had someone to love them as much as you loved Titch.

  3. Emotional, but not sentimental. I hope it helped just a little.

  4. Remember the happy times as often as you can.

  5. I'm sit here with tears on my cheeks. I feel your sadness. I loved reading about Titch and send you a ((hug))

    Thank you for sharing him with us.

  6. I'm so sorry, Frances. I so enjoyed reading about your adventures with Titch. I hope your beautiful memories will become a comfort.

  7. No Frances, not sentimental - beautiful. I can't see for tears. He had such a happy life with you and it has always been very clear just how much you loved him. Take care xx

  8. I'm glad you told us how you feel, Frances. It may have helped you, even just a little.
    Nothing can change the magic of your memories and no horse could have asked for more love and care than you gave. You did everything for him that you possibly could.
    I'm crying for you both. I'm so glad we all had the chance to know your very special friend. x

  9. That was so sad and so beautiful. Had to have a good blow and wipe the tears away before replying. You needed to write that Frances, and thank you for sharing. Chin up.

  10. That was so beautiful, Frances.
    Like others, I'm in tears.
    Memories can cause pain for a while but, eventually, they'll help. Cherish them.

    Thinking of you
    Sending hugs

  11. Oh, Frances, I must have missed that post about Titch. What a lovely memoriam to such a lovely companion. I've shed a few tears for you while reading this.

  12. So sorry you've lost a good friend.

  13. As you can see, Blogger has finally relented and let me start posting again... inexplicable.

  14. Thank you so much for all the kind comments. It has been awful, and I shall be haunted by those last images for some time, but I know that in time, they will fade. My family and friends have been wonderful. As have all of you.

  15. Titch will always be with you in spirit...
    Frances, you will know when you are able to share your life with another horse....allow yourself to grieve until the time is right to do so.
    Allow the happy memories you two shared to comfort you.
    I do admire you in your ability to write a memoriam so soon....I still have not written a memoriam to any of my six bow wows...not just yet.
    My thoughts are with you.