I think a lot, I analyze every thing, every motive, every possibility (real or imagined). It often drives me crazy and god help the people that have to listen to the process.
We just lost Patch, I say we because I didn't corner the market on Patch and when he left us he left a huge "us". In the same respect I just lost Patch; me, the Carol that I was before he was gone, she lost Patch. He was never "mine" but when he left so did a very special relationship, as a result I am forever changed.
I am pretty sure I'll feel the loss for years to come, he was such an amazing soul. I had no idea what I was in for when Kate told me that a mutual friend was taking this "pony" to the game farm.
I wanted a pony for my grandson, he was four. I didn't really ever expect to find a pony for my grandson it was just one of those things Kate and I talked about. "Wouldn't it be cool to have a pony for Antonio? He could ride and wouldn't he look so cute all decked out in English garb under a "fancy" little pony?"
Kate heard that Patch was headed to the game farm; he was no longer useful to the people who owned him. They did serious trail riding and Patch had blown out his tendon again and couldn't carry anyone. She was actually pretty clever in getting Patch out of that. She called and inquired about a "quiet little pony" that "might be good for her friends grandson". Wa la we had an invite to go meet Patch (I had never met him Kate has known him for years).
For the first time since Patch came into my life I am going to be honest about my feelings surrounding his arrival. He was quite literally on the verge of being tossed to the lions because he couldn't stand the rides, the weight, the work, they wanted from him. Patch was last in the pecking order and well as a result often got chased off his food, he was underweight; scratch that he was skinny. He was also so full of worms it was downright disgusting. His stools were anything but solid. He had blown a tendon so he was "lame"; as it turned out he also had an abscess on his leg that eventually burst and healed. It was not the first time it had happened. It was the time that found him deemed "useless" as far as their needs were concerned, they couldn't afford to continue to care for a horse they couldn't "use". I find that deplorable. It absolutely pisses me off when people do shit like that. This horse had served them well, many many times. He was not a fucking toy, he was not a god damn motorcycle that blew it's engine. Still they were "done" with this "useless" animal they could no longer pack up and ride on their weekend trips. Off to the game farm he goes. Was a vet called? No no no. Did they know that Patch would "never heal" fuck no. They were just done with him, he was of no use. God every time that runs through my mind I want to throw something so hard it smashes to pieces.
I've wrestled with these feelings and the judgement that goes along with them since that very first day. There is a real part of me that does not judge them harshly, a part of me that thinks them naive (ignorant) to what the animals (all of them not just the horses) are about, a part of me that feels downright sorry for them because they will likely never get it. Which means they will also never get the pureness of loving them (the animals) and that's a downright shame.
Still there is the me that looked in Patch's eyes and saw the person behind the mane and tail and felt his sadness. She does judge, she quite honestly, despises these people whom took Patch into their lives and hurt him simply because he had no choice but to submit. Patch had a wonderful life with his original owner. Patch had a barn, Patch had enough food, Patch was honored and respected for who he was. Patch did not have a wonderful life with the people whom took over his care. How flipping self absorbed do you have to be to treat a living being as a tool? Can he have a job, goodness yes! When he can't do that job do you let him fall into ill health in front of your eyes then turn him into tiger food? Jesus Christ already! For that I judge. For that I feel a dislike that is damned close to hate.
The worse part is I know these people and I do like them. I absolutely stand for something opposite of what they do, I don't really "despise" them though. It'd be so much easier if I did. If I did I wouldn't wrestle with these feelings, if I did I wouldn't have "sugar coated" those feelings all this time.
The best part of not despising them was that it forced me to not get all indignant and instead be thankful that Patch had found his way into my life.
I absolutely hate what happened to Patch, without a doubt! I still feel my face get hot and my heart skip a beat when I let myself remember the first time I looked in his eyes and felt his pain. I was fiercely protective where he was concerned. There were very few that I would let near him. No one but my scrawny little ass rode him either and I only asked that of him a few times. Patch decided he was retired after being here for a bit and I absolutely let him do just that.
Now I am sure I encouraged the retirement belief by making him a special mixture every night so he could gain weight, fussing over his tail (it was a mess and the belief was that it always would be; "they" were wrong his tail absolutely came back healthy and beautiful), carting his hay all over the pasture so no one would bother him, encouraging his "drive by window" treat obsession, etc etc. I'd have slept in his stall if I thought it would be good for him.
My son's girlfriend (at the time) had pulled Patch out and to brush him one day. It is safe to say I all but took her head off. She didn't really do anything wrong and she was good with him however he was special and had been manhandled enough (in my opinion) and she was not me! I wonder if this had anything to do with his attitude a year later when I was foolish enough to let someone attempt to play "pretty pretty pony" with Patch? Hmmmm hahaha probably so.
I digress, this post isn't all about Patch. I could tell Patch stories forever however the blog has been flooded with them lately so I'll get on with it!
I met a horse the day after Patch had to be put down. Another sentence that finds my face growing hot and my heart skipping beats. It also stops me dead in my tracks and oh so thankful that I have a window to stare out while I collect myself. It's flabbergasting how much I miss him.
In any case Kate, Jenny and I went to meet a mini mare that Kate was interested in. The mini was rescued along with a gelding and the woman whom rescued them was looking for permanent homes. My only interest in the gelding was a result of a acquaintance being interested in him and possibly keeping him here (I had offered her the shelter if she were to take him on). The mare is darling but one look at the gelding and I was pretty sure he was more then the interested party was willing to take on. I said as much and tried to leave it at that. These two had been victims of a divorce, quite literally forgotten about, left to their own devices on a pasture that was pretty bare. The mini of course got fat, I think they could eat air ;-) The gelding, well he didn't get nearly what he needed and was skinny, he had a bad abscess, and had been in a lot of pain for a long time.
We fussed over and ohh'd and ahh'd over the mini for a bit; she is just darling. She seriously looks like a tiny Katie with a LOT of hair! Baby doll face, bay, dorsal stripe, just flippin adorable!
I made my way over to the gelding, at the time I couldn't have told you his name although I had been told his name! I was a mess, I had been crying for what felt like a week but really only amounted to about 12 hours. I stood there and rubbed on the gelding and tried desperately to understand why Patch was gone. I rubbed my hand along his side and felt the ribs, ran my hand along his back and felt his spine; it didn't escape me that I was somehow introduced to a horse who shared so much in circumstance with Patch the day after Patch left. Goodness knows I didn't understand a bit of it and it was just too much to try and pick apart so I just kept petting him and feeling all that he must have gone through. How sad he must have been when he figured out his mom had left and there was no one left that cared. It broke my heart for him, it tore at the grief I was already feeling and pissed me right off. It was also beautiful in it's own way however I was ignoring all that, ignoring the universe that I trusted to bring me what I needed, because I was pissed. Pissed for it taking Patch, pissed for it allowing these things to happen, just pissed and I sure as hell was not going to get all touchy, feely, new aged freaky about this. So I kept petting the gelding whose name I could not remember and tried to keep up with the conversation around me.
The next Monday Kate went to see the mare again and asked if I would like to go. I begged off with a ten minute errand as my excuse. Truth is I did not want to see "the gelding" again. I had remembered his name but I was steadfastly ignoring that and calling him "the gelding". I suppose since I am being honest I should admit I was afraid of seeing "the gelding" again. I absolutely did not want another glimpse at what I felt the first day I met him. I was too busy convincing myself that any "connection" I felt was a product of grief; simple, logical, bullshit. I've seen many horses in a desperate situation. I've appreciated every single one of them, have I "connected" with each one, no. Still I was very busy ignoring this so I begged off.
I decided to offer the extra stall as a boarding solution for someone else and placed an ad. Kate lost Ziggy to a car accident that day. One week after Patch some asshole hit Zig (Kate's dog) and killed him. My heart broke for Kate and for Zig who was anything but ready to go. Kate texted me, I didn't really say it out loud for hours but Leo got super quiet, attached himself to me like some bizarre four legged accessory and again I tried to ignore the Universe and deduced that Leo was still suffering from Patch's loss. I refused to believe that he actually knew he just lost yet another friend. We (Kate, Jenny and myself) all decided we hated Tuesdays and each of us tried to process this. It was crippling for Kate, still is.
I went around the farm the next morning and took pictures of what I call "Pony Paradise" with Kenny Chesney's "Magic" playing in my head. Snapping pictures, remembering Patch, remembering Zig, singing "I believe there is magic, a whole lotta magic, I believe there is magic here..." The whole god damn week felt surreal and that morning was no different.
Kate came over and we futzed around a bit, Kate mentioned going to Silverdale and I said sure. I had no real idea what we were doing in Silverdale but I didn't care either. I wanted to be with her, be there for her, let her know that I loved her and respected what she was going through. I figured we were headed to Farmland; yay smelly isles and horsey stuff.
Turns out we were going to see the mare. I sorta asked "hmmm can I see the gelding" as if I didn't know he was there! Off we went, half assed remembering where we were going cause Kate was trying to come to terms with Zig and last time I had been there I had been trying to figure out Patch.
Drea had separated the mini and the gelding and I honest to god didn't know he was right in the next stall when I asked about him. I petted him over the fence for awhile and finally got the nerve up to ask if I could go in there with him and pet him. The wire was hot and either he was gonna shock his fabulous nose or I was gonna shock my arm so I either asked or stopped touching him. I couldn't really see stop touching him as an option.
I need a break, this one is proving difficult.
