by Emily
You were the best horse ever. I remember a time when we went on a trail ride with Missie, Bullet, Mattie, Spirit, Tyra and Chanda. We went out behind Benlock and we stopped to eat lunch. I kindly took off your bridle and let you graze on the lead rope. I got out my lunch, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, peanuts, and a Capri-Sun. Bullet flipped out so I turned around to watch and when I turned back around you had eaten my PBJ sandwich and was starting on my peanuts. You had ripped a hole in my juice and had drank it.
I also remember a time when we were at riding camp and I had just given you a bath, put you in a free stall and covered you with your fly sheet. I didn't want to eat my fruit cocktail so I dumped it into your grain tub and two minutes later you were licking the bowl clean.
Mom showed up at my basketball practice Friday the 23rd of January and told me that you were sick. "Sick?" I thought. I instantly got a bad feeling in my gut. You couldn't be sick. I had just rode you Monday and we cantered and you threw a fit. What was new? We quickly drove the ten minutes to the barn and I jumped out of the truck and ran in the barn. There you were, laying in your stall covered in your beautiful hunter green blanket. I thought you were dead and then I looked at your nostrils deflating. No, you weren't dead. Not yet. You hung on so that I could see you one last time. Dennis, the vet, came and did a rectal exam and said that there was something wrapped around your small intestine. P.J., the owner of the barn, nodded her head. Her face looked grim.
Ten minutes later you were down on your knees groaning and looking at your stomach. Colic. The deadliest thing that can happen to my best friend. My mom and Dad looked at me. Wait another night and make him suffer or put him down now? I made the decision. How could I make my best friend suffer. He had his blanket taken off and led outside. That was the last I saw of you.
A little more than a week later I returned to grab your stuff out of your locker and I thought up a poem. Here it is Big Guy, just for you:
You were stubborn and lazy,
your eyes were always hazy,
thinking ahead ten minutes,
when you would be let out
into the pature to graze
like the big fat pig you were.
Here is another poem, just for you
so that you can remember me,
the one you left behind.
What I will miss most,
is the nudge in the small of my back
as you searched through my pockets
for the hint of a snack.
The arch of your neck as you entered
The show ring with pride,
Your patience at teaching a beginner to ride,
Go run in green pastures and act like a foal
I will remember that the outside of a horse,
Is good for the inside of the soul.
You'll never be forgotton Big Guy.