Written By Barbara O’Brien
We lost a good one yesterday.
Part of the price of having wonderful animals in your life is the pain that comes with saying goodbye to them. We had to put Boston, our 28 year old Quarter Horse, down. He had a fast spreading neurological condition that affected his spine, which in turn affected his ability to walk or keep his balance.
And even though I believe it was right the thing to do, it is never an easy thing to do.
Boston came to us many years ago as a Dollar Horse. A Dollar Horse is an older horse that is ready to quit being shown or bred but not ready to be retired forever. Or they can be reliable, trusted mounts that the family has sadly outworn.
My Son, William, rode Boston those first few years and, although they like each other all right, their connection was nothing special.
It wasn’t until Sarah, my cousin’s daughter, came to live with us that Boston found his true companion. Here was a girl that understood the best places to be scratched and one that he could follow around the pasture like a puppy hoping for a treat.
Sarah was fifteen when she came to us, and on the first day, I handed Boston’s lead rope to her and said. “This is your horse. He is yours to ride and care for and just love.”
Sarah was beginning a journey of recovery when she first met Boston and I believe he knew that she needed him, and if it is possible for a horse to give himself entirely to a person, I think this is what he did.
She didn’t like riding him at first. Even though she was a confident rider, she didn’t have a lot of experience. Boston quickly learned to take advantage of this. He would trot merrily along, and then stop short and Sarah would tumble off onto the ground in front of him. Thank goodness for helmets and soft dirt arenas and Sarah’s willingness to get right back on.
We found an excellent instructor and with time and hard work, Sarah’s riding improved enough that she was able to canter Boston bareback through the fields, and for the first time in her short life, I think she felt something akin to pure joy.
Boston loved Sarah too. She was in charge of feeding him and all other aspects of his care. She would go to the gate and call his name and he would come running from wherever in the pasture he was. Boston knew what was coming and knew it was good.
He was a good listener and over the next three years, he heard many a story about her life and took it all in with a kind eye and warm head and neck to cry into.
Boston’s illness came on quickly. I hadn’t noticed anything wrong until I saw his rear fetlocks scraped up with abrasions from the opposite hoof. As I led him up to the barn I saw that he had to twist sideways to stay upright. I put him in a stall and called the vet. I also called Sarah, who was at her parents in town packing to move onto her dorm at college, and told her what was happening. I knew she would want to be there if we had to put Boston down.
The vet watched Boston walk and we all agreed that his condition was only going to get worse and the decision was made.
Sarah stroked his head and told him goodbye and after a short time he was gone. We all cried as she clipped some of his mane and tail to keep. She told him he had always been a good horse to her and that she was sorry he was gone and that she would always love him.
I told her that he would be waiting for her and now he was whole, and well, and running in green pastures with the other horses we have lost over the years.
Sarah is now 18 years old and embarking on her first year in college. She has overcome huge difficulties in her life and is a strong, beautiful, young woman ready to face whatever life throws at her. I am hoping that in some small way, Boston helped in this journey – that he knew that his work here was done, and she was going to be all right without him.
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