Saturday, December 25, 2010

All the Pretty Little Horses

This is actually a very old blog from my original days. I thought until recently it was bought out by CNet until a fellow editor told me I had neglected the other site so long that it was bought out by CBS. Sheesh. Where does time go?

So, a lot has happened since the last blog. I wrote a lot but crying too much to hit the post button.
My aunt Jan, finally passsed away. She was at home with my uncle Steve holding her hand.
In this past week I lost both of my pet bunnies. Inki to old age and Grissom from a broken heart. I kinda know how he feels. I will never use the expression, "dumb bunny" ever again.

I have purposely stayed at the farm and in isolation since Jan's death.
Now, more than ever, thiis old blog sums up what Jan meant to me.
BTW~ the "ex" in this blog is Shoe Man. He just texted me, asking if I was at the barn,yet? On my way...

Time to rerun another blog. It is one of my favorite Christmas memories and I hope it helps to remind everyone what the season is about.

Love and White Light~ Kimba

When You Wake, You'll Have Cake, And All The Pretty Little Horses.

Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake, you'll have cake,
And all the pretty little horses.

Black and bay, dapple and grey,
Coach and six little horses,
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby.
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,
Go to sleepy little baby,
When you wake, you'll have cake,
And all the pretty little horses.
This was my favorite lullaby as a child.

Somehow in a family in a suburban Pennsylvania town, there was one child of three, who dreamed endlessly of horses. My parents were baffled by the intensity of my love. Where would we keep a horse? I was constantly told there was no money for horses. Yet every night I went to sleep with that lullaby in my head.
At Christmas I would visit with Santa at our church holiday gathering and tell him that all I wanted was a horse. No toys. Just a horse.
Every Christmas I would run out to the shed in our backyard and see a shed full of garden tools and no horse.
I never let on the disappointment to my parents, but inside I was always crushed that there was no horse in the back yard.
I never gave up the dream and at age 22, I bought my first horse and never looked back at my life without them.
Over these past few months I have written about my ex and sometimes I haven't liked him too much. There are times when one can remember that in spite of where we ended there was a time when one person seemed like a dream come true.
The common bond the boyfriend and I had was horses. He was a horse shoer and I am a sport massage therapist for horses. We met through friends who I knew from working at horse shows.
I will be honest that I thought he seemed nice enough, but my heart was healing from another lost love and I had no desire to try again. After much wooing and pursuing I relented to dating him because plain and simple, he was a nice guy who understood my love for horses came before anything else in my life. Here was a man who was willing to concede to that fact and we settled into a comfortable life together.
In the first year of our relationship I listened to my boyfriend's childhood which was filled with horses.
He grew up on a small farm and had cousins the same age who grew up a couple miles away on a farm. His childhood consisted of cowboying on his pony Curious George with his cousins and their ponies.
I loved these stories because they were so unlike my own suburban memories that were filled with bikes instead of horses.
I finally met his cousins on our first Thanksgiving together.
It was pouring rain that day and I was nervous meeting the extended family of this man. It turns out they were different than the boyfriend's immediate family in the fact that the cousins had a lot of money. It was obvious from the house and attitude of the family. I was quite shocked that these people were related to my down-to-earth boyfriend who barely had two dimes to rub together and didn't seem to care.
Dinner was nice and they were friendly and inviting in their conversation with me. I told them of the stories the boyfriend shared of their childhood adventures on horseback. They laughed and shared some more and I felt a pang of jealously that they had what I had wanted in my childhood. I asked if they still rode horses and all four emphatically said no. His oldest cousin told me that their oldest pony Misty died just two days before and their mother's horse Cody, was too mean to ride.
I inquired, "Is Cody still here?"
They all began to laugh about how that stupid Cody is still standing out in the field at the spot where Misty had died in the pasture. My boyfriend squeezed my hand hard under the table, sensing that the coldness of that statement would upset me.
After dinner, I asked the boyfriend to show me the barn that his grandfather had built. His aunt shouted out to me to watch for Cody because he bites.
We walked down the path discussing the fact that his cousins just don't feel love for horses like we did. To them they were toys like how my bike was to me. An object of fun and entertainment with no love involved.
As we approached the barn the rain started to turn to sleet and dusk was falling like a dark, wet blanket. I glanced out among the small pasture and there in the center was a black horse, standing alone in the rain with his head hanging down.
I knew that was Cody, paying vigil to his lost friend.
I clucked out to him and his head went up. For a moment the only sound was the pinging of sleet hitting the ground and then a small whicker of acknowledgement.
Cody began making his way over to me and as I watched him walk toward me my eyes took in the horror. This horse was obvious old and was a skeleton to boot. His mane and tail were matted, obviously not have been brushed in ages, possibly years. The old black horse reached me with my boyfriends voice behind me, warning me to watch because he bites.
As he said this, the old horse reached where I was standing and as he was softly whickering, placed his shaggy wet head on my chest and just stood there. I felt Cody's pain and stood with him, tears pouring down my cheeks with the rain and sleet.
"He can't stay here like this" was all I could choke out to my boyfriend.

For days after, I hounded my boyfriend that he needed to intervene and convince his family the most humane thing is to either put this poor horse down or find him a home. Finally, after several weeks of this my boyfriend came home and announced he found Cody a home.
"Are they nice?" I had to know.
He told me of the place where Cody was going he would be able to be retired as a companion horse for two other horses. They were nice horse folk who knew how to take care of an older horse.
I was so happy to know that Cody would be able to live out the rest of life in a safe sheltered place, cared for and with other horses.
My feelings for his cousins was forever altered by this. I never let on to their face but inside I despised them.
I still do.
Every Christmas as an adult the one thing I must do is visit my horse Christmas morning. I made this clear to my boyfriend before the holiday that after dreaming of a horse for Christmas as a child I had to acknowledge my own as an adult. He grumbled about how we would be late to his mothers for brunch and can't we skip it until later. I was seriously annoyed by this and snapped that just because he had horses growing up he couldn't understand my wishes on this day.
We pulled up to my aunts barn at 10AM and I was puzzled as to why my aunt hadn't turned my gelding Merlin and her pony Coral out yet.
I walked into the barn and was greeted by whinnies. Three whinnies as a matter of fact. There in the spare stall was Cody. He was all brushed out and de-matted and looked quite pleased to be there with his head out into the aisle looking to say hello.I turned to my boyfriend and he said," I thought your dream of a horse for Christmas should come true."

Cody in his new home

He had pulled off the greatest Christmas surprise.
Cody went on to fill out into a handsome, shiny black horse who was a sucker for black licorice. He never bit any of us and loved being brushed. He had little nubs left for teeth at his ripe old age of 31, but we managed with special senior feed and soft orchard grass hay to get him back into full weight. He became a pampered pet to my aunt and I, with a special soft spot for my uncle who loved Cody more than anything.

The irony of this story?
Cody died three years later on Christmas night in his stall. He must of had a heart attack because my uncle found him at 10PM that night laying in his stall with a tuft of hay still clenched in his mouth. My uncle called me sobbing that Cody was gone. My heart went out for my uncle who loved this horse so much in his last years, unlike the family who owned him for the twenty plus years they had him.
Don't be sad by the ending of this story. Cody got to live three years as a happy pet and died in a safe, warm place while eating from his unlimited hay supply and cared for by people who loved him unconditionally. For me, this was a second bestChristmas gift that God granted to me.
Merry Christmas to everyone, and I hope all your Christmas dreams come true.

Cody all fat and happy

OriginallyPosted by Kimba66, 12/24/2005 10:05am

Don't forget to track Santa's journey across the world!

Norad Santa Tracker

Peace All

1 comment:

Fast Film said...

It's hard to write a sentimental piece about animals that resonates without any corniness whatsoever, but somehow you always manage to succeed.