Friday thoughts

Many thanks to all who expressed such eloquent thoughts in the blog comments or emails yesterday. As every horse lover will agree, they're far more than just hayburners. They're family, and losing them leaves a giant void in the close-knit family structure, which in our case includes the humans, the horses, dogs and cats.

A few words on Rambo. He was tall, elegant, smart, talented and remarkable. Bill, Willie, Annie, Bill's sister Margaret and I ushered him into the world a 2 a.m. July 7, 1985. As Bill said, "Marianne, you were there when he was born; you were there when he died." Through a teary conversation Wednesday afternoon with my sister Laurie, who had ridden him to glory in a horse show or two, we agreed that he was one of those "bigger-than-life" horses.

My sister Barbara, who was riding him (yesterday's photo) after he won a reserve championship in show hack and a reserve championship in hunter pleasure at a regional Arabian show many years ago, knows the pain all too well and quite recently.

Her phenomenal show horse Tellie (Rambo's brother) died last fall shortly after Barbara had retired him from a stellar horse-show career, which included regional and national awards. Oddly enough, both horses may have died from strokes. We'll never really know for sure; in both cases, we knew that to prolong their agony would be inhumane.

Without going into detail about the events of Wednesday, I certainly want to thank our wonderful veterinarian Dr. Cherise Neu, her mom Colleen, my neighbors Bev, Ron, Jack and Jim for being there when the need was urgent. Out of all sad events come lasting memories of goodness, both of horses and humans.

Life goes on for the living. It was painful to watch Rambo's buddy Casey who sensed an extreme loss almost immediately. Rambo raised Casey. Casey came to our family as a two-month-old colt, so his surrogate dad/mom of 17 years served as a constant companion. When they moved out here to the Lovestead, it was obvious they fell in love just like the humans did.

Rambo and Casey have spent the best year of their lives, feeling so at home in this place. The memories I'll take with me forever are the many pleasant morning and evening walks to the pastures with two geldings in hand, plodding quietly side by side, just like well-seasoned draft teams.

Casey served as Rambo's seeing-eye horse. He did not wear a bell; he just kept track, and whenever Rambo displayed the insecurity of not knowing exactly where he was, Casey returned to his side. Ultimate friendship.

Casey and Lily will have to become friends. I don't know if that is possible because Lily thinks she's a queen. She hasn't learned to share just yet. She tormented Casey but respected Rambo. The dynamic has changed for both horses. Maybe they'll find a way to build a good relationship; after all, they have just each other now.

Rambo is buried in a grassy opening among the trees in that same pasture where the God tree stands watch. I found the strength to walk down there yesterday, and it gave me strength to do so. As a gentle breeze blew through the trees and birds chirped, I said out loud to myself, "What a wonderful place to spend eternity." I'll take a rake down there soon to smooth out the dirt in the spot where Rambo lies. I'll plant grass and some perennial wildflowers.

We'll never use that enclosure as a pasture. It's more like a sacred sanctuary for reflection and remembrance. So, Rambo can sleep peacefully in that peaceful spot where we all can visit and remember the joy he brought to us as show horse, pasture horse, mentor and friend.

In those moments we can be strengthend by the inspiration he provided while facing adversity with grace so often throughout his "larger than life" existence.