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The Steps....

“I know the steps well,” I said to the friend who called to ask about my horse. My horse who I’ve known for more than twenty years. The horse I helped as a tiny foal nurse when his mother decided she’d rather kick than nurture him. The horse who was always there, never really a problem, would walk into the trailer – most of the time and always after a little discussion, the horse who would stand for a bath – if he really had to, who would be patient with me while I clipped his bridle path even though he never really saw much sense in it, would, mostly, behave for the farrier, teeth floatings, and spring shots, though he never totally understood why we had to do these either. He liked to question these things we chose to do to him and his pasture buddies.

Over his life, his home changed only twice. He lived on the farm where he was born until he was 7, then he moved to my farm and became a buddy to the other members of the herd. He went to the trainers for a few months and learned how to be ridden. We went on trail rides. He loved seeing what was around the next corner or over the next hill. The only thing he balked about was turning in to our driveway. Of course, he knew what was down there, and that was boring, let’s go see what was going on down the road!

When my aches and pains got worse with age, he learned to stand patiently for me to get into and out of the saddle from the back of a pickup truck, or from a big, sturdy mounting block. As the years went by, I rode less and less, and he became a pasture pet. Always curious when I came out to fix fences, or work in the barn or do any of the other chores which took me into the pasture. As I worked on various projects, he was always right there, trying to walk off with the hammer or whatever other tool he could nab – sometimes maybe a little annoying, but always entertaining.

As he aged, the little health problems horses sometimes encounter occurred. His eye sometimes became inflamed, and he developed heaves (ah, good old Michigan hay!). The pasture mates changed. His little pony friend, Strawberry at the ripe old age of 33, had developed health problems severe enough that one hot summer day we eased her over the barrier so she could leave life behind and play in the pastures beyond the stars. Did he know? Did he miss her? It was hard to tell. He was always more of a loner, and I often thought the reason he and Strawberry were so often together is because they didn’t bother each other.

Now he was with a smaller herd. Sometimes he would play “rear up and bite the neck” with the other two boys in the herd. But once again, there was a change in numbers…two of the herd members moved on to a different home, leaving just the two boys here at my little farm.

And now, somehow, something has happened to his front leg. He can only stand on three and doesn’t understand why there is so much pain in the fourth leg. He struggles with all his might to move about the stall so he can reach his water, his hay, and, best of all, his grain. He tries his hardest to move when I ask him to so the vet can examine him - the horse who was always there, and never really a problem. Yes, I know the steps. Make the appointment with the veterinarian who also knows the steps….call the neighbor who has the heavy equipment to dig a very large hole…he knows the steps too. There’s only one who doesn’t know the steps. I can only pray that He who is above us all will help make the final steps as easy as possible for my faithful friend as we ease him through the barrier between pain and his own trip back home to gallop among stars pain-free once again….

Yes….I know the steps….I’ll miss you my friend…