Hokey is Gone

Second Post of the Day

Hokey was euthanized yesterday morning just before a major snowstorm and an Arctic front blew in. It was time. He never was quite the same after that lightning strike that took Abby and Two Socks. He hung out most of the time in the barn, he'd lost the sight in one eye, and was beginning to lose it in the other.

Belle on Sultanna, her son on Hokey, and Tim on Eazy this fall.

Very recently, he was walking slowly and painfully. With the storm coming in, and most especially the Arctic front, Tim did the merciful thing and had him put down.

We all knew it was coming. Tim had told me last summer that he was concerned about putting Hokey through another winter. 

He had had a good long life. Tim got Hokey when he was a 3 year old and they were together 27 years - Hokey was 30! His registered name is Hokkaido - Tim and Loni's son was living in Japan at the time and they liked how it sounded. Eventually the name got shortened to Hoki and finally Hokey. 

Hokey will be laid to rest next to Abby and Two Socks. I feel really, really good about that.

Here's a little walk down memory lane.

Hokey and Abby, just after I'd rescued her.

Lisa was very fond of Hokey. She joins Tim, Belle, and me as we grieve his loss.

A photo of Tim with Hokey and Sultanna taken last summer.

Hokey gave my family a lot of rides around the paddock. Lisa leading Curt,

and helping Kate during a Christmas visit with Cole spotting.

Trinity giving him a hug during a grooming session. Hokey didn't need to be tied - he'd just stand there and let the brushing begin!

With Sultanna at the gate, hoping for carrots.

Who knows what he was doing here! Big goof.

Holed up in the barn where he felt safe and secure just a few days after the lightning strike.

Sweet boy.

I received this poem shortly after Abby's death and shared it with Tim and Belle yesterday. It expresses the feelings I had then and that I still do. I thought it might help them find some solace.

We are all feeling the loss. Hokey was a connection to my Abby, and now he's not there anymore. It's like one of the last bits and pieces of Abby's life is now gone. But we all know that this was the kindest thing to do for him.

Rest easy, Hokey, and thank you for all the wonderful memories. You were a great horse.

It's Not the Same

While running an errand yesterday, I steeled my nerves, told myself I could do this, and swung around to the barn. I wanted to check on Hokey, Easy, and Sultanna if she had come home.

Easy heard me whistle and poked his head out of the barn, followed more slowly by Hokey.

And that's as far as they got. I even rang the bell when my whistles didn't bring them up, but the boys stayed put. A far cry from past days when everyone would come trotting, Abby in the lead and softly nickering to me as she approached.

I sighed and felt the sadness wash over me.

There was no way I was going to walk out to the boys - I had not brought my walker with me, and even if I had, the pastures were heavy with grass and not conducive to rolling a walker through.

With only two horses to graze it down, the walking trails the horses had worn over the years were growing up and starting to disappear.

Even the trail to the water trough is growing over despite that Hokey and Easy walk it daily.

It's not that the place is being neglected - certainly not! The usual areas are neatly mown and other areas were well kept. It's just that nine acres is a lot of forage for two horses. Pastures don't even need to be rotated right now as Hokey and Easy's impact on them is minimal.

As for Sultanna, Tim told me that she is still "visiting her boyfriend" and will come home soon. She's been bred four times in the past and only been in foal twice, so I think he may be leaving her there longer to up the chances that a pregnancy takes this time.

Tim's also been doing some work on the small fenced area outside of the old barn. I forgot to ask if he was just replacing the old fence poles or if he is removing the fence completely. The fence posts are still in place, but the old poles are down. Time will tell.

It used to be that when I finished a barn visit and was driving home, I would feel a warm, mellow contentment coupled with a strong sense of gratitude that Abby was part of my life. My heart would overflow with love for her.

Yesterday that drive home was very different. It was one of lingering sadness, even melancholy. 

The barn just isn't the same without my girl.

Working thought Grief

I drove out to the barn yesterday but I just could not bring myself to drive down the lane and walk out to see Hokey or go visit Abby and Two Socks' graves. It's still too raw. I did talk to Tim and he said that Sultanna will be coming home from visiting her boyfriend (as Tim puts it) in a week or two. It will be nice to have her back.

It surprised me that I was so reluctant to drive up to the barn; after all, I went out to see Hokey daily for over a week after the girls' deaths. Tim was out of town then and I was in charge of the barn - Hokey needed to be checked on and cared for.

Abby and me reunited after I'd been in the hospital down in Indy for a week recovering from pancreatic surgery.

But it just isn't "the barn" right now for me; it doesn't feel that way since Abby is gone and there is no one who so gleefully comes charging up to see me when I arrive. The place is so empty without her and my heart hurts when I am there.

A friend who suffered the loss of a child recently shared this poem. It reflects my own feelings at Abby's loss.

I know through long time experience that a dose of horses can brighten your day and help you mend when you feel broken. I plan to head out to the barn again today, and this time I will drive down that lane and go visit Hokey.

I'm not sure I will be able to walk out to the graves, but that's okay. Sometimes you need to take baby steps as you work through grief. Visiting Hokey will be a big step; the baby steps will come with time.

BreyerFest 2023: Another Horse Passes

Another horse passed away during this year's BreyerFest. Pixie, a Miniature Horse, was there representing her breed and unexpectedly died Sunday while preparing for her demonstration.

Thanks to the generosity of those who heard the news of Pixie's passing, the Go Fund account has met its goal and she will be able to go home with her owner.

I was shocked and saddened by the news. I also have questions. I don't recall a horse dying at BreyerFest in the past, let alone two, both who were seemingly healthy. Granted, Funny Cide was an old horse, but Pixie was neither old nor sick.

Is there a connection between the two somewhere? Ot was it just one of those coincidences that happens occasionally?

My heart breaks for that little girl.

Grieving

Normally I don't have any trouble writing, but this morning I just can't seem to articulate what's in my head and my heart. I'll do my best to record the very short life of Little Feller and what happened to him.

Thursday morning, the day after he was born, Loni went out to the barn around 10:00 to check on Sultanna and Little Feller. Everything was fine, and she did not notice any problems with him. I was planning on heading out late afternoon or early evening. Tim was flying home that afternoon and I was looking forward to hearing what he thought of the colt.

Around 5:00 he called and told me that the foal was dead. It took me a moment to grasp that - I was shocked and speechless. I pulled myself together and asked what had happened. Tim replied that when he'd pulled up by the nursery paddock, Little Feller was lying in the grass of the round pen and dead. There was no sign of trauma or injury; he was just stretched out on his side as though he were sleeping but sadly, he was gone.

 Sultanna standing watch over her little guy.

While Tim had been traveling, I'd been keeping him up to date on how Little Feller was doing. He was up, he was nursing, he'd had difficulty passing his first poop but later ones were normal, he was active and inquisitive, walking on his hooves instead of his pasterns - all the things that you check when you have a newborn foal were fine.

Tim thanked me for all I had done and said that it was just one of those things that happens occasionally. I could hear the sadness in his voice, and I was in tears when we hung up.

I went out later that evening to check on Sultanna. She seemed confused and was happy to see me. I gave her some carrots and cried by her side.

Yesterday I went back out for my daily visit in the late afternoon. I saw that Tim had replaced the fence between the northeast pasture and the agribusiness next to it during the day and that the herd was now out in that pasture.

Sultanna was back with the herd, but she was keeping to herself. I didn't walk out to her nor did I call to Abby. I just didn't feel like it. Normally the barn is one of my happy places, but yesterday, the joy was gone. I just stood by the gate where we usually visit and let the tears come.

The nursery paddock, a place so recently full of happiness and hopes for the future, seemed empty and cold.

That's all I've got today, folks. 

Remembering Pam

This is a non-horsey post and is a tribute to my dearest friend, Pam Green, who passed away from breast cancer the day after Christmas.

 Pam, just prior to her passing.

I met Pam on the baseball field. Her son, Randy, and my son, Beach Boy Kyle, are the same age and played baseball together every summer. Pam and I would sit in the bleachers and chat as we watched the games. A friendship began that has endured over thirty years and across the miles.

When I was thirty-five, all six of my kids were in school and I had time to do what I'd always wanted to do - go back to school and get my teaching degree. Pam, a master teacher, invited me to be her student teacher, and I learned things from her that I used until the day I retired from teaching.

I was hired to teach in the same school as Pam, and we had a blast working together for eight years until Craig and I moved back home to Indiana in 2006.

Pam, fellow teacher Brandon Smith, and me on a field trip with our students to The Feast of the Hunter's Moon.

The two of us with David Bales, another teacher at our school, on his wedding day. Pam's husband, Ron, is taking the photo.

Before we moved back to Indiana, the staff at my school held a going away party for me. I'd just had three different ankle surgeries and was in a cast. Pam, in a cast herself, had fallen down the steps into her garage and broken her leg.

Naturally we had to goof around and have our picture taken during the party.

After I moved back to Indiana, Pam came over and guest taught with me. Oh, how my students loved having her come!

 Pam reading to my students on Pi Day (March 14).

More Pi Day fun - you can't see it very well, but we all have temporary Pi tattoos on our faces. Pam and I are standing together in the back against the white board.

An animal lover, Pam doted on my black Lab, Zeus and was quite sad when he went with us to Indiana.

She loved to come over and visit with him! Like Pepper, Zeus was a retired service dog. He'd been a narcotics/drug sniffer, and had been so successful in busting drug dealers, that the police station received death threats for him.

Pam also loved horses and had taken riding lessons in college. So, when I got Abby, she made a special visit to come and see her.

While feeding Abby carrots, Pam got a text and decided to answer it. Abby kept pestering her to put down the phone and continue with the carrots. We laughed and laughed over this picture - Abby was so insistent!

When my father died in 2012, Pam drove over to support me and be with me at the funeral. She even went with me out to the cemetery.

 When the Indianapolis Temple was opened in 2015, Pam  wanted to come to the open house and tour the inside. (Linda, Pam's sister-in-law, my sister, Jennifer, me, and Pam.) 

 Pam was very worried about what would happen to Ron, her husband of forty-four years, after she passed away. Ron has recently been diagnosed with Parkinsons and has his own struggles. I cannot do much from afar, but I have been texting him and checking on him. As you might imagine, he is devastated at having lost Pam.

The end came quickly for Pam. The Friday before she passed away, I was going to drive over to visit her. She really wanted to meet Pepper, so I was planning on bringing her along, too. I suspected that this would be our last time to see each other and I wanted to make Pam a special gift. So, I made two Christmas ornaments on green ribbons (a nod to Pam's last name), one a picture of Pam and me from our get together in September, and the other a photo of Pepper.

The day before our planned visit, though, Pam called and said she just did not feel up to it and asked to reschedule our get together for December 28. Sadly, she went into the hospital the following Monday, December 23 and then died Thursday, December 26. I never got to see her again.

Our last time together, September, 2019. 

The world has lost a bright light while heaven has gained a beautiful sparkling diamond. Rest in peace, dear friend. I will see you again.