(Originally written Dec 2018)
I stood with an old pony today while the vet helped her cross over the Rainbow Bridge. It was my second time meeting her. I’m grateful she let me hold her. She was sweet and has had COPD for a long time, she wasn’t holding weight anymore and winter is coming.
She was adopted from Heart of the Redwoods Horse Rescue nearly 20 years ago. It’s not often I meet a pony that has not been passed around and passed around... ya know for kids and what not. Ponies often get the short end of the stick in many of those cases... not all but many. I’ve seen it too many times.
This pony had a great life and had a donkey friend for most of it. It’s never easy to make these type of decisions. I knew I needed to help the family. There were factors that made it difficult for them to hold her and get it all done. I was able to arrange for her burial as well.
Our vet was kind and quiet. He assured us this was the best decision. Reminding us people often wait to long. I, myself, was guilty of that just a few days over a year ago when I finally let my boy Toby go. It was too late. I held on too long.
Part of me was happy that I could offer guidance and assistance in this situation. The other part of me felt intense grief and once she was laid down I couldn’t help but let out sobs. They dissipated into tears and I let myself cry. It’s good to let it out.
I cried for her loss and cried because she had such a great life and so many don’t get that chance. I cried because her family is going through tough times and I wish they wouldn’t of had to add this to their list. I cried because I missed Toby. I cried because I was going to take their donkey away. He can’t be left alone and they can’t take care of him anymore. So much change and loss in one day!
I’ve been along side so many animals in their transition. My grandma rescued a lot of animals, mainly cats, and many of them were sick and we had to help them pass. I was young and strong even as a little girl, and I would dig their graves with pride and with tears. I would make perfect holes for them and lay them like they were sleeping in a ball.
When the man finished digging the hole for miss pony, I made sure to wrap the rope around her legs with care. Once she was in her grave I fixed her head and legs. She looked like she was galloping!
I suppose every time I do this type of thing a little part of me goes with them, but there is also a gift that they give to me. I’m not quite sure how to explain it. I find that for myself I am afraid to die, but when others do or need to, I am able to come to their side, even my mother’s. I am able to find strength and I don’t know where it comes from. It’s almost like another part of me takes over.
The man who buried her turned out to be an old friend of the family, who had worked with the husband. Time was spent reminiscing. The lady who helped me find the man to bury her came along, took pictures and just spent time with us all. She was the one who started the connection from the very beginning nearly 2 months ago when she tagged me in a Facebook post about a donkey & a pony needing help. This is what I believe to be divine timing. The little things that connect us all. Those moments that say - yes this is meant to be.
I’m exhausted and sad, but happy too. Banjo, the donkey, seems to be settling in quickly. My lovely herd is always so gracious to the “newbies.” They have met so many over the years, and because I allow them to live as they were intended they have great social skills.
So I’ve poured out my heart and a shot a silver tequila, it’s my favorite. I’ll draw a bath and sink into the warmth. Tomorrow is another day, another mystery and I’ll pray that we can all find peace in hard times. May we all find the gift in the midst of pain and sorrow. May we all be of service whenever we can. May we all find strength to carry on and remember... to choose Love.
