Dead. Died. Deceased.

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2.5 months since I last kissed a blonde eyelid. 5 months since I last saw the world from between 2 yellow ears. It still physically hurts. I still well up with tears when I see his pictures. His tail still sits in my bedroom, waiting for the day I trust the post office to safely deliver and return the last piece of him. I don’t want the jewelry place to wash his tail before they make my keepsake. It smells like him. I don’t want to forget what he smelled like. Is that a weird request to make?

As much as I’ve tried taking up other hobbies – mountain biking, kayaking, running, and as much as I’ve thrown myself into work, school work, graduate work, there’s a void in me that can only be filled by a long grooming session and some time in the saddle. I miss riding. I miss the smell of the barn. I miss the people. the atmosphere. I even miss the showing. Part of me doesn’t want to “cheat” on tazzy, with another horse. A bigger part of me knows he wouldn’t mind.

AQHA sent back his registration paperwork today. It was marked “Dead 7/8/15.” A lifetime of teaching children to ride, safely carrying riders over jumps, chasing cows, wearing pink, and rainbow, and sparkly bellboots. A lifetime of eyelid kisses, and whisker clipping, silly nicknames, and midday naps. A lifetime of spooking at boob jumps, and having perfect knees and forward ears, and being a much loved solid citizen – all summed up, so eloquently, in 4 letters, – Dead.

Life really is unfair.

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