A GOOD HORSE 1985-2006

He was named for the champagne glass shaped blaze on his face, but to us he has always been Champ. I have said goodbye to him forever and I know there will never be another horse like him.(2005-twenty years old, venerable and content)

I was 18 in 1989. My Mom and boyfriend and I went horse shopping. The 4 year old chestnut gelding was the first horse I looked at and it was love at first sight. Not only was he very pretty, but he had that spark in his eyes. He was green broke which meant that he would promptly and conveniently forget all of his basic training once I got him home. I handed over my 800 bucks and became the proud owner of a fiesty little Half Arab, half Quarter Horse. He was my first registered horse.

We spent the next 2 years teaching each other what not to do. We had some troubles and arguments and even a few injuries but there was enough fun to keep us going. A big crisis came soon, when that winter my pony died. Despite being half his size she was the boss and he felt stranded alone. It turns out that she taught him everything he needed to know about being the boss. Losing her devastated me, and Champ soaked up a lot of my tears. We bonded over our misery.(1989, the day I brought him home.)

At 20, I got married and moved to the city. Champ and I started on our long distance horse & person relationship. Champ and Dad developed their quirky tolerate/hate relationship. Dad liked having a horse to take care of even if he wasn't crazy about that particular horse.

Three years later I became a mother. I thought he'd never make a good kid's horse because he was 9 years old and still acting like a silly colt. But something special happened. He knew the difference. He could carry the kids at a careful trot through the lead line class at our saddle club and then turn around a few minutes later to blast me through the speed events. He became a family horse, without any help from me. (2000, saddle club show; my son was 4)(2001, my daughter was 7. Look closely at her right arm: it was in a cast. He also had his fetlock wrapped. They both had ouchies.)(Mommy got to ride too.)

He was never what I'd consider "finished". He had annoying habits and never did learn a few things, like a good lope transition. But he was better at some things than other horses, like tight turns and of course, being magnificent. He was stubborn but sensitive and he wouldn't do anything unless you asked him the right way. He wasn't an expert at anything but pretty good at most things.(2004, with my son, age 8. Look at his bottom lip. Always flapping that lip.)(2002, with my daughter, also 8 at the time.)

In our 17 years together he was a show horse, a trail horse, a parade horse, a lesson horse, and a gentle children's horse. He was a star. He frustrated me, amused me, and taught me more than a person or book could. He was the herd boss, the big stud, the legend in his own mind, a small horse with a big presence, the King of the Pasture. (1990)

On Sunday we had driven to my in-law's house and were planning to visit the farm before heading home. Just a day trip. A phone call came from my Dad. Horse emergency. Something wrong with Champ.

It takes about 5 minutes to get from one house to the other. It took forever to get there.

Dad, the Vet and his assistant were sitting against the barn wall. Champ was on his feet, looking stoned, covered in sweat and dirt. He'd been rolling. I knew what it was- I'd tangled with colic before. I heard Dad say as I walked up to Champ, "I think it's time. We're just waiting for you to say so."

My hands on either side of his sweaty muzzle. I blew softly into his nostrils like I always did. He breathed in quick panting breaths. His nostils were flared. His eyes were squinted half closed. I'd never seen him in this much pain.

I faced the vets. They'd been there for a couple of hours, trying to help him, trying to get me on the phone. "Did you tube him?"
"Yes."
"Did he pass anything?"
"No."
"Any gut sounds?"
"No. None. Total obstruction." Two options, he said. Surgery, cost of $6000 to $10,000 and no guarantee that it will work. Or...

I nodded. Even if I had that kind of money, even if he was younger and stronger, even if I thought he'd survive the trip to the Equine Hospital in Guelph...I refused to put himn through any more pain. Not after all he'd given me. I loved him too much. I rubbed his forehead and whispered, "I've gotta let you go, old boy."

I went to the gate and dissolved in sobs on my husband's shoulder. My horse was on the ground again, weakening quickly. I took off his halter. He never liked wearing it. The vet gave Champ a sedative before the kids came out to say goodbye to him. After I sent them into the house, Champ tried to get on his feet one more time and I laughed through my choked throat. Never give up, right to the end. God Bless. The Vet's eyes were sad. He put the needle in Champ's neck. You'll never feel pain again. My hands never left his face. I wasn't watching his breathing; I was looking at his eye. I knew when he was gone. The spark went out. He slipped away quietly. It was the only thing he'd ever done quietly.

I don't know when the Vets left. Our poor little mare had been hovering in the pasture on the other side of the fence. I brought her in. I led her over to him- she snorted, then sniffed, touched his muzzle with hers- and she was done. I took her into the barn for the night. She fretted but she didn't call for him. We covered him with a drop sheet and the next day a truck took his body away.

Copper had never been alone. I couldn't have her wandering around looking lost and lonely. We got her a companion, a broodmare borrowed from a friend. She's going to be okay. The broodmare stays until I find a new horse or until her foaling date.

It'll be a tall order. The next one will have to be a very good horse. I won't settle for less.

I'm not in shock, and there's been no disbelief. I've known for a few years now that we were in the bonus years. I don't regret putting him down. I know I did the right thing. If we humans want to tame these wild animals, we take on this responsibility. He's not the first horse I've lost. He won't be the last. If I regret anything it's that I never got to move him to my own farm. But rather than regret how little time I got to spend with this horse I want to think about what we got done with the time we had. Which was lots. And it was good.

I'm deeply sad because I really loved him. He was not a perfect horse. But he was my horse.