CW: This post discusses pet grief, knowledge of pet loss, and senior horse health issues.
I place my hands on either side of Thunder’s broad head and kiss his forehead. He sniffs my face, sometimes touches his muzzle to my forehead, and then he gets the kind of big squish hug you can give a 1200 pound animal who soaks up attention like a sponge soaks up water. The vet visit didn’t go the way we thought. I’d just about convinced myself his lesions were sarcoids, benign tumors that can cause problems, but for the most part are just unsightly. They’re not. It’s cancer, and the only hope I feel is that by offering him an immune supplement has radically shrank the tumor under his tail (about grapefruit sized to much smaller than that) and so I’m hoping this is a slow progression. He’s seventeen, the horse I bought for my mother who passed in 2018, and is my last anchor to her since her cat passed shortly after she did. I’m not ready to say good-bye. Luckily I don’t have to at the moment. His quality of life is good, and if that changes, then we’ll have to make some decisions. Fuck cancer.
The other horse the vet saw yesterday was in some ways harder to accept and other ways easier. My heart horse, the one I’ve had since she was three months old, turned 26 in August. So know our time together is shorter rather than longer. Her knees are large from arthritis due to bad confirmation, whether it was genetic, or because no one knew her dam was carrying a foal when she passed multiple times through the sale barn pipeline, we’ll never know. Luckily the farm that bought her dam wanted this surprise foal to go to a good home, and so I bought her for $100. As soon as she was weaned, she was mine. But her legs hurt, and her face is gray. She’s still interested in life, loves attention, and isn’t having issues getting up yet, but the vet and I had a talk. And we both know that the day I have to make a decision will happen sooner than I would like. I know this is coming, but also I’m not ready.
Grief is a sign that you loved, I actually was accepted with a scholarship into a pet grief class to become a certified pet grief counselor in February. It’s part of the work I want to do to help people, to hold space for them, and to know that they are not alone. Just as I know I’m not alone in the horse community or the broader pet community. Having had many senior cats (and currently we have two), I’ve done this dance with grief before, and I know I’ll do it again.
For now, my heart mare will get her three meals a day and treats and love, the same for the gelding. The others will get treats and love too, because they will also need to be supported through future transitions with the herd. In the meantime, I hope that the mare’s arthritis medicine will allow her comfort for a little longer and will be practicing my animal reiki skills on both of them, as well as the rest of the herd.
The message here is to enjoy every day that we have. Don’t worry about a future that will come in its own time. Don’t dwell on the past. Know that every day when you wake up, it’s a new day, a new canvas, and a new opportunity. I will be holding each of these days in my heart, no matter what the future brings.
If you would like to help the herd, I encourage you to become a member of Muse Happens, my membership group. You’ll gain early access to the serial stories, free short stories, discounts on books, and possibly more. Your membership will help cover the cost of medications and possible future vet expenses (Thunder could have a $1500 surgery to help.) Check out everything Muse Happens has to offer.
I also have an Amazon Wish List with horse treats if you would like to help treat the herd.
