Well, if my PERSON thought her dreams were coming to an end - what about me, the trusty steed?

I knew something was up when she spent extra time grooming me - getting all of my carefully installed encrusted mud out of every embarassing orifice, the knots combed out of my mane and tail and my bridle path clipped. Of course, I thought we might be going to a show. They're always fun.

She gets dressed up. My tack gets cleaned. And, I can show off for the other horses - especially the pretty mares - what a handsome dude I really am.

But no.

An hour later the big rolling barn showed up. They backed it up to the barn door and, to my absolute horror, my winter's supply of hay was loaded on! "Hay! Wait a minute! That's MINE! Are you going to starve me?" Not only that, but the last of my grain, my alfalfa cubes AND my apple chunk horse cookies went too. What the 'h' is going on?

Uh oh. My person came in with the leather halter. That can only mean one thing - onto the rolling can I'm going. Oh yeah - it's loaded with my food. Things might be ok! I won't starve at least.

I'll miss being a pasture potato. I Recognized Deanna - the BOOT CAMP director. Looks like I'm going back to work again. Oh well, I'll have friends there to talk to.

I'm sure going to miss the nightly pats, the carefully cut-up apple and carrot pieces that were my bedtime snack, and knowing that my person would be back first thing in the morning to see to my every heart's desire. But, she'll come and visit - I know it.

Now, if I could just get her eyes to stop leaking salty water all over my freshly groomed coat....

Good thing for her she's got friends and family that care.

Death of a Dream

Although I've known for months now that we have to move and leave our idyllic wee farm, the reality of it hit me, hard, this morning.

I fed Beau, tidied up his stall, filled the water bucket and brushed the night's accumulation of mud and crud from his coat - and realized that he's moving on tomorrow morning. I'm selling or giving away most of my horse and barn stuff and essentially watching my lifelong dream of living on a farm and having my horse at hand die.

So I sat on a bucket and sobbed. Hoover, the dog, didn't know WHAT to do other than sit and lick my salty face while I howled for a while in utter misery.

The realities of growing older include reduced physical strength and stamina with which to handle the chores that need to be done to maintain a place like this. But, since it took me a lifetime to find this spot, it truly breaks my heart to leave - even though I know we have to.

For the past several weeks I've been deluding myself that it's ok; that I'm excited about having a new house and new appliances (which I am). But, it still doesn't compensate for the sense of loss I'm feeling or the torrent of tears that need to be shed.

Nevertheless, I'm resilient to a fault and will, no doubt, bounce back and move on as one must do in this life.