- Thread starter
- #831
- Nov 17, 2010
- 341
- 119
- 174
While Lucky is still doing fine, Bonus died last night. I believe she had a wonderful last few weeks as a house chicken. She terrorized the cat and slept in the dog bed. She roamed the house and due to my unsuccessful attempts with chicken diapers, pooped at will. She harassed the dogs when they ate and discovered that Lyla’s venison food was a delicacy that no chicken should be without. And I grew attached to her. I listened for the sound of her chicken feet on the wood floors and her funny greeting as soon as she heard me come in the back door. I will miss her.
My friend asked me if my puppy Mimi was sad that Bonus was gone. They were friends I would guess as much as a chicken and 70 pound dog with giant teeth can be. I thought about it and said I didn’t know. Mimi put her furry head on my knee and just stared as I held Bonus this morning after she died. I believe Mimi knows I’m sad. She stayed close today just in case I needed her.
I always used to believe that animals felt the same as people. That they shared our sense of loss when someone they loved disappeared. That was until my horse Borax died. He was 25 years old and had spent 18 years of that with his girlfriend Frances. They were inseparable. When he died we also had Jester and Grace, the same two horses we have now. Grace had not been with us a long time and based on her behavior and lack of soundness, I really was questioning why this horse had come into my life at all.
Borax had a bad leg and when winter paused and the ground thawed, we knew it was time to let him go. That morning as I watched him struggle to rise for the last time, I felt a sense of relief that soon it would be over. I would no longer have to worry that he was in pain. After I fed him as many apples as he would eat, we tranquilized Frances and left her locked in the barn. I walked Borax through our back pasture gate and towards the giant hole that our neighbor had dug the day before. After it was over despite the tranquilizer, I could hear Frances’s desperate whinny. It was sharp and clear like a bell that rang over and over again. The noise was so piercing it shut out every sound around her.
When I let Frances out into the pasture she frantically looked for Borax. Not running but sniffing the ground following his scent like a dog. I had never seen such a thing. Grace and Jester watched her but they did not join in. Frances ran until she was lathered and then she stopped at the gate to the back pasture where her beloved had begun his next journey without her. And there she stayed. Her now pitiful, low whinnies added sadness to my heart. I had considered putting her down when Borax went, but she was my DH’s horse of his heart and she was healthy. I just couldn’t take her away from him. My vet told me it would be OK. She would find comfort in the herd.
The next day Frances ran from the barn after another refused feeding. Then she galloped towards the back pasture gate. Only this time she didn’t make it. Grace cut her off, nipped her and in horse language told her to follow. And Frances did. She followed Grace like she used to follow Borax. Her head just to the outside of his hip. And the awful whinnying stopped. And that’s when I realized that Frances was going blind. Almost a year ago the vet told me she had cataracts. They must have worsened and I didn’t notice. I had thought that she trailed Borax everywhere because she was protecting him, but really it was the other way around.
Grace took Borax’s place as the leader of my little herd that day. I never again questioned why I had ended up with crazy, lame, nutty Grace. She became Frances’s eyes and as my old mare’s vision deteriorated she clung to Grace like a foal new to the world. And she stopped looking for Borax, the love of her life. Maybe somehow she knew would see him again. That right now she just needed to survive. Until I die I will never know for sure. I will just have to have faith that one day I will see all the people and animals again that I have loved and lost. And I will hold onto that belief so I can live in the moment and take care of the now.
My friend asked me if my puppy Mimi was sad that Bonus was gone. They were friends I would guess as much as a chicken and 70 pound dog with giant teeth can be. I thought about it and said I didn’t know. Mimi put her furry head on my knee and just stared as I held Bonus this morning after she died. I believe Mimi knows I’m sad. She stayed close today just in case I needed her.
I always used to believe that animals felt the same as people. That they shared our sense of loss when someone they loved disappeared. That was until my horse Borax died. He was 25 years old and had spent 18 years of that with his girlfriend Frances. They were inseparable. When he died we also had Jester and Grace, the same two horses we have now. Grace had not been with us a long time and based on her behavior and lack of soundness, I really was questioning why this horse had come into my life at all.
Borax had a bad leg and when winter paused and the ground thawed, we knew it was time to let him go. That morning as I watched him struggle to rise for the last time, I felt a sense of relief that soon it would be over. I would no longer have to worry that he was in pain. After I fed him as many apples as he would eat, we tranquilized Frances and left her locked in the barn. I walked Borax through our back pasture gate and towards the giant hole that our neighbor had dug the day before. After it was over despite the tranquilizer, I could hear Frances’s desperate whinny. It was sharp and clear like a bell that rang over and over again. The noise was so piercing it shut out every sound around her.
When I let Frances out into the pasture she frantically looked for Borax. Not running but sniffing the ground following his scent like a dog. I had never seen such a thing. Grace and Jester watched her but they did not join in. Frances ran until she was lathered and then she stopped at the gate to the back pasture where her beloved had begun his next journey without her. And there she stayed. Her now pitiful, low whinnies added sadness to my heart. I had considered putting her down when Borax went, but she was my DH’s horse of his heart and she was healthy. I just couldn’t take her away from him. My vet told me it would be OK. She would find comfort in the herd.
The next day Frances ran from the barn after another refused feeding. Then she galloped towards the back pasture gate. Only this time she didn’t make it. Grace cut her off, nipped her and in horse language told her to follow. And Frances did. She followed Grace like she used to follow Borax. Her head just to the outside of his hip. And the awful whinnying stopped. And that’s when I realized that Frances was going blind. Almost a year ago the vet told me she had cataracts. They must have worsened and I didn’t notice. I had thought that she trailed Borax everywhere because she was protecting him, but really it was the other way around.
Grace took Borax’s place as the leader of my little herd that day. I never again questioned why I had ended up with crazy, lame, nutty Grace. She became Frances’s eyes and as my old mare’s vision deteriorated she clung to Grace like a foal new to the world. And she stopped looking for Borax, the love of her life. Maybe somehow she knew would see him again. That right now she just needed to survive. Until I die I will never know for sure. I will just have to have faith that one day I will see all the people and animals again that I have loved and lost. And I will hold onto that belief so I can live in the moment and take care of the now.