Sweet Nicci, we’ve been partners for the past 18 wonderful years and you’ve been my steady rock. We had so many adventures together trail riding, fox hunting, hippotherapy, and therapeutic riding.
Kids and adults alike loved you. You were steady and methodical and such a solid horse. You weren’t the typical mare. You weren’t herd bound. You loved people over the other horses. Your face was so expressive when you were being brushed in your favorite areas.
You loved neck rubs and being scratched on your chest. You yawned and closed your eyes with pleasure when you got your horsey massages. I always wanted you to know love and peace and comfort.
You were 29 this year and age was catching up, you were losing weight in spite of senior feed and dental work. You were standing away from the other horses. You weren’t sick and you weren’t lame but you weren’t you anymore either.
We’ve always “talked” to each other and I asked you if it was time, if you were ready to go? And you answered “yes.” How hard that answer was to receive. It’s easy to make the decision when a horse is painfully lame, has a broken leg, or has a fatal colic.
I remembered my promise to you, that you would know peace and love and comfort your whole life with me, and I made the difficult decision to give you that gift, the gift of letting go.
You are buried under the old oak tree with your friends that went before you, I visit you daily. I’ve had tears, I miss your beautiful physical presence, but I can sense your amazing spirit and that gives me peace.
I have made mistakes in my past with horses that I’ve learned not to repeat. I sold an older horse as a child’s horse only to find out later I had been mislead and the horse went to an auction. I gave away an older horse to a friend who kept it for a year and then gave it away to someone else, who gave it away to someone else and I felt helpless and betrayed. I tried everything under the sun to heal the Cushing’s related founder in another older horse inadvertently prolonging his pain for months before making the inevitable decision.
So I accept the responsibility I have to my horses; I consciously aim to give you the most comfortable and best life possible, and when it comes time, the best ending to life. You are my partners and friends and I want you to experience the calm and familiarity of home and to be surrounded with love when you take your last breath.
I will not shirk my duty to you, try to prolong your life because I can’t say goodbye, or pass you on to another person because I don’t want to deal with it. It still isn’t easy, it never will be. I miss you. I love you. You were one of the great ones. There is another horse angel in heaven now and her name is Nicci. Goodbye My Friend. Until we meet again.