Starting Over

I suppose you go into every new dream naive. If you could see all the blood and guts of it, it sort of ceases to be the new dream and starts to be reality.

My dream to be an after-jockey was soaked in naivety.

Yesterday afternoon I sat in the deep grass of the pasture looking at Whisper grazing in front of me, Lake lying in the barn behind me, already gone. I spoke some choice words to God and questioned over and over again why Lake had to survive a broken leg to go on to race again at the track only to come here for a new start and break the same leg again. He was meant to die here apparently. I don't know. I'm angry and sad and disappointed. We gave him 100 hours of the freedom of turnout, more than he had before, way less than he deserved.

Within an hour of his passing two extremes happened. The first was Lake's former owner/trainer (who I was on the phone with as the vet was there with Lake) offering me support and another horse whenever I was ready. The second was a call from a horse rescue coordinator questioning how and why this happened on my watch, hanging up on me before I could compose an answer through my shock. It was awful.

In response to Lake's trainer yesterday I said, "No". I didn't want another horse. I wanted Lake. I could never do this again. The Seven Hearts OTTB foster program is over.

I was naive to think I could take them in, help them, then say good-bye. I know that this circumstance was extreme and adopting out is a happy good-bye, still I hadn't been able to prevent the intense way my heart  bonds to those soft Thoroughbred hearts

In the pre-dawn hours this morning I went out to do chores and clean stalls. The shocking hole of emptiness stared at me. In 2 short weeks we had gotten used to Lake's head over the stall door. His halter hanging on his hook. Now it all looked so barren.

I turned back to Whisper and got to work. There is a little secret horse folks have, while it may seem icky to a lot of people, cleaning stalls is actually a wonderful way to clear your head. It takes no brain power and your mind is free to work out whatever it needs to while your body goes on auto-pilot.

I kept coming back to how it was just such a sad thing that Lake was so young. What a waste of a wonderful personality in such a gorgeous animal. What a waste.

Then I walked by the empty stall and "what a waste" came back to me again. Lake's life was gone but there were more behind him begging for another chance at their own life and I had space. Space that was going to waste.

Someone said once that when an animal dies the solution is getting another, immediately, to help you heal. A heart with a gaping hole obviously has room to fill.

I don't know when it will be, but I do know it will be a resident, not a foster, when the space becomes full once again.

I was naive to think that my small farm with a small herd could handle the intense change that a new member brings when you have the turn-overs of foster. I was naive to think I could handle working closely 3 times a day with any animal and not loving it with all my heart.