The
Val and Junior Journal
The Final Chapter
July 8,
2006 http://www.pipedreamfarm.com
Sir Valiant Too (Val) 4/24/03 - 7/6/06 Only the Good Die Young
Damn, this is harder than I thought it would be. I have been trying to pull it and myself together for three days now.
Lest yall that don’t know me think I am some sort of
tender hearted weenie, I should say that in days past I have been know as a
pretty tough hombre. I have been
referred to as the meanest little big man you ever saw. I was an infantry soldier and only the brave
and the stupid crossed my path. I been
shot at and missed and shit at and hit.
I have been a security guard, a bouncer, and a karate practice dummy.
I have had broken bones, chain saw cuts and been wrapped
up in barb wire. I have been stomped
on, kicked on, beat on and gnawed on. I
have had more than one close call with stupidity and death.
I don’t think anything ever hurt me as much as finding my
blue horse dead this past Thursday morning.
It was a little after five a.m. and I was going out on my
way to work. I saw him lying in the
pasture and wondered why he was alone.
This crowd was always together.
I whistled and he neither moved nor answered. A sense of dread filled me.
I hurried to him to find him dead and stiffening. Then the world fell on me.
I looked around and all the others were in the
stable. All looked fine. What happened? There were no signs of anything.
No struggling to get up. No
obvious physical harm. No signs of
sickness or disease. He had been fine
the night before and his usual self.
What to do. Should
I call the Vet. They could not bring
him back and having participated in more than one autopsy, I had no interest in
doing that to my beautiful blue horse.
I had no reason to think the others were in danger and decided against
that. I later called the vet and
without autopsy, they were unable to do anything other than express
condolences. I asked a few questions to
which I already knew the answers.
I could not leave him exposed to the critters and I did
not want Marie to have to come home and deal with this shock. I decided to try to find someone to bury
him. On the way to the house I flipped
through the mental rolodex and determined who I would try to find. I decided to try to reach G.R. Taylor, a
local contractor down the road who has excavation equipment. His wife was not very happy when I woke them
at five thirty. I honestly figured that
I would have to call early to get him before he left for a job site. G.R. said he would be here at about eight am
and he was. He did a wonderful job
with efficiency and compassion. I thank
him greatly.
I spent the intervening time stumbling around here blindly
and sobbing like a teenage girl suffering her first heartbreak. That was the pattern for the rest of the
day. Doing what I had to do and trying
not to cry or die. Yesterday I only had
one crying fit. So far I have made it
through this day without one, but writing this is testing my mettle.
After getting Val buried, I went to work. I was not much good to them and while the
folks at work tried to console me; I waved them off as I could not bear to talk
or think about it. I just knew that I
could not spend that day here. Toward
the middle of the day I discovered that I was, in fact, dreading going to the
stable that night to feed and do the chores.
I knew I had to but I knew that he would not be there.
I called Marie at work to tell her and only succeeded in
ruining her day. I could not even answer her questions, but I did not want her to come home and be
distraught over her inability to find him.
Finally, at days end and after supper, I had to work up
the courage to go to the stable and barn to care for Star Baby and the long
ears and the cattle. It was nearly as
hard as I had imagined. For nearly
three years he has been quietly supervising or gently nickering instructions in
evening meal preparation. Junior and
Star Baby were even confused about where to go to eat. It was then that I realized that they missed
him every bit as much as I did. Junior
has been his constant companion from the start. But Star Baby is absolutely lost. I think she is as inconsolable as I. She is even a bit bitter about it.
And now I have not made it through this day either.
Friday morning both Junior and Star Baby in turn went to
the site where Val died and is buried.
They sniffed the ground and looked around and stood for a moment and
then came back to the stable. Junior
came in and put his head on my shoulder.
This is something he has not done in a long time. Both yesterday and today he has followed me
every step when I was within his range.
Star Baby will come to me but she is not easily satisfied and goes to
stand in Val’s spot, looking out the back of the stable.
We will get through this, I hope. He is gone and we the living must endeavor
to carry on.
My cow vet was here Friday morning to drop off some health
papers for the bulls going to test. His
wife is a Vet and their daughter is in Vet School. They have walking horses and the daughter expects to be an equine
specialist. I have known Bob over
thirty years. I told him that I had
fooled with animals all my life and that I have buried a good many. Some with deep regret and sorrow and some
that needed burying, but that I had never lost one that has made me come so
completely unglued as this.
I must take time here to express my appreciation for all
the messages of condolence and sympathy and support that so many of you have
sent. I can not help but be amazed at
the quantity and the sentiment and genuine support that I feel so many have
offered.
Much to my mother’s dismay, I am not a deeply religious
man. She raised me in the church and I
believe in God and I know good from evil and endeavor to do good. So many of you have offered to keep us in
your prayers and I truly believe it has helped me. I appreciate that so many of you could tell how special he was
too me and how big the loss is.
A few had special meaning. Sugars Mom from the Mule Skinners Forum said something like God
had a special child arrive in heaven and he needed a special horse for them and
so he had to take mine. Yeah, he was
that good natured and beautiful.
Several of you have cautioned me not to beat myself up
wondering what I did wrong to cause this.
I have already been through that process several times. I honestly don’t think I could have done much
better and still let him be a horse.
Hal from the Mule Skinners Forum reminded me that horses have heart
attacks and aneurisms and such just as folks do. I know he wasn’t sick and the vet had just examined him on the
routine yearly visit six days before.
Terry Moss, who raises big jumping horses and who has had
her own share of tribulations in the last few years sent me a lovely message
that cautioned me against hardening my heart and enjoying my other animals
less. I didn’t think she knew me well enough
to know my defense mechanisms . All I
can say is I will try.
And so this brings to a close the Val and Junior
Journal. Perhaps someday another
journal shall rise from the ashes in another incarnation of inspiration and
joy. But it won’t be soon.
The others are still here and here they shall stay. I will love them and care for them and try
to do my best for them. I am not riding
off into the sunset. I am not riding
anywhere. We will be here trying to
stay alive and doing the best we can. But
for now my inspiration and my enthusiasm and too much of me went with the big
blue hoss.
I will try to remember the good times with him and not
dwell on his absence. To rejoice in
what was and not languish in what will never be. When I named him he had a big name to live up to, but he not only
lived up to it, in my heart he surpassed them all.
Goodbye my big beautiful blue hoss. I fear I shall miss you for the rest of my
life.