A Horse Lovers Tradgedy

(Spencer was a 2001 paint show gelding. He died in August 2009 due to colic. When I wrote this story he was still alive. He inspired me to write all my work But he is no longer with us. RIP)

I didn't want to believe it; he's so young. I couldn't let it happen, not to him, I had

to do Something. "NO MOM!" I shouted in despair.

"Nicole, I know you love him." I listened. "I know you guys have been through

allot and I know you don't want to loose him, but could you really let him live like this?"

She sounded irritated.

"But he is not just a stupid cat or hamster! He's my horse, my partner, my

friend." I said with my teeth clenched tight. " I know there's something we can do; there

has to be something!" I said eagerly.

"Look Nicole, there is no way he's going to survive with a broken cannon bone.

You remember Oliver? We tried everything with him and he died young too." She looked

away then glanced back fast.

I started arguing again, "He's stronger then Oliver! Please mom, he's only eight

and he's one of Glacier's last offspring. I'll get a job if I have to pay for whatever it takes."

Trying to wipe the tears from my eyes.

"I'll talk to the vet one last time. Go over with your horse."She sighed and walked

into the next room. There was a small window; of coarse I didn't go over with Spencer. I

was peeking through the tiny window to see what was happening. To find out what

would happen to his life... I saw my mom start to build some tears. I never really saw her

cry. She was much stronger then that. I watched them arguing back and forth. I knew this

wasn't going to turn out well. When I saw the vet shake his head, I knew this was my

Spencer's last day.

I looked over at my poor friend. He was laying on a cold metal table, looking at

me. I hadn't ever seen him that way. He was the kind who made you wonder what a bad

day was if you were even having a bad day.

Spencer wasn't the best looking horse around, especially standing next to our

halter horse Scooter. He was almost seventeen hands. I guess he got his moms height

her being thoroughbred. His dad was a stocky white paint horse. Spencer had his dad's

head, almost all white too. His ears were a bay color. He had some black in his tail.

Spencer had beautiful movement. People would walk by and stop to watch him work

when we were at shows; he floated along the rail.

One thing we proved to the horse world was that a white horse can win to. When I

first got him, people talked and said we would not make it; but we did it. We helped other

white horses get recognized to. There's much more I could say about our prime days, but

I'm sure you want to know more about what happened.

He was still, knowing what was going to happen. There was much more then just

a broken cannon bone. There was metal in his neck, his eyelid was skinned, glass all over

his face, a deep cut in his shoulder, he was breathing hard, and his right front cornet band

was sliced, all from the crash. His breathing was the only thing I could hear in the room,

the one thing I cared about most, the one thing that could haunt me for the rest of my life.

Knowing that I might never hear his lungs work again, I studied the noise for about a

minute. I held my breath when I heard a quiet sweet nickering flow threw the air crashing

through my thought of his breathing. I walked slowly over and ran my fingers gently

through his forelock.

"I love you Spencer." I managed to say. I knew if he could talk, he would say it

back.

I saw his eyes. I noticed they were watery . I took my hand and wiped what I

thought was tears away, then the same with mine. I knew he was in pain. I wanted to

make it stop but there was nothing I could do.

We looked at each other for a second, knowing we would never see each other

again. I made myself think about our past. I knew he was thinking also. We both knew

two things, we needed each other and we made each other strong.

As the thought of never seeing him again returned, I collapsed next to him on the

table, sobbing. "I can't do it Spencer, I can't let you go." I said it over and over. I knew

he didn't want to die at eight years old; who would?

I rested my head on his neck, watching him bleed why I ran my hand through his

silky white mane. I didn't want this to be my last what was minutes to be with my best

friend. I laid there for a while, hoping he would just get up.

As I was admiring his face, my mom and the vet walked in interrupting my trance.

I felt Spencer twitch as the door slammed shut. I saw a clipboard and a big tube in the

vets hands. It was blue, a pretty blue. Most people called it blue juice. It wasn't pretty

at all once I figured out it was going to take my best friends life away.

I started screaming, "I love you Spencer! Please stay with me! I'm so sorry." I

repeated it knowing it wouldn't work to save his life but trying to let him know how much

I really loved him. My mom told me to go away, to leave the room. Was I really going to

let my friend die on a cold table without me there? I acted like I didn't hear her. My eyes

locked on his cut face, trying to picture him healthy again.

I felt my arm get pulled hard and I almost fell off of the table. I realized it was

my mom dragging me. When I was stable again, I pushed her away. I knew it was the

wrong thing to do but I didn't care, I wanted to be with him. My eyes never left him when

that happened. My mom rolled her eyes and walked out. It was just the three of us now.

My eyes left his face. I watched the vet come over and stick the needle in his

neck. It took everything I had to keep me from taking it and sticking it in me.

"Wait..." I said quietly. The vet looked at me with sad eyes. I didn't want to

remember the persons eyes who killed my horse, I quickly looked away as I moved.

I took a deep breath and jumped back onto the table. The room seemed quieter and

darker some how.

I held Spencer's head up gently and moved myself under him. I put his head

softly onto my lap. It reminded me of when I would go out at night or early in the

morning when he was laying down and sing to him as he rested in the same position he

was in now, stroking his soft perfect coat. I started to hum our song we listened to

every show before we went. It was a happy song but I made it sound sad. It was

Spencer's favorite song. I knew that because every time it would come on the radio, he

would prickle his ears and start to fall asleep.

His ears started to move to listen. I massaged around his forelock. As I looked

back at the vet, I knew it was time. I was still humming the silly song when I gave him

one last look and placed my hand over his eye that was looking back at me.

When I saw the tube connect to the needle, I kept my hand over his marble

blue eye trying to hum the song in its rhythm. I watched the blue killing juice slowly

flow into his system. Tears were coming faster as the liquid pumped through his veins.

I was almost at the end of the song when there was nothing left in the syringe. The

vet pulled it out and rubbed the injection.

As he took his last breathes, I stopped my humming and whispered in his big ear,

"I will never forget you." As I said it, his stomach stopped moving. I starred at his still

body, crying. The vet had already walked out. My hand was still over his eye and I started

humming the song again. I finally worked myself up to moving my hand away, still

trying to get the song out. But I was not humming anymore, I was singing. As I looked

down at where my hand had been, his eyes were looking up at me, not blinking. It gave

me the chills. I sat there with his lifeless head on my lap. I rubbed his clipped ears and

patted his silky neck.

I didn't leave him for hours. I was wishing that we could have been rite down the

street where the show was, happy, friends, winning...alive.