Artex.

Friday: 
And so it should be that as one journey is about to begin, another is ending. I was not originally intending to write again until my upcoming trip to South Africa, but the aching in my heart necessitates it.

I got my horse, Private Artex, 11 years ago. He came with a tag along horse buddy, who has grown to be his best friend in the world, Devon. But to be honest, Artex was my prized gift from my generous parents. I was 12 and had been taking riding lessons for a year. I had fallen in love with horses, and desired one of my own. As I wrote in my 12 year old journal, "At first I didn't like Artex. He bit me and was misbehaving while I led him around." However, after encouragement from my riding instructor that he was indeed a lovely and well-trained horse, I decided to have him and Devon to stay at my house for a month to try them out. As my journal said, "Boy! What a difference four weeks can make!" I truly fell in love with this graceful animal over that time period. He had been showed in dressage, a discipline of riding that focuses on an animals ability to perform maneuvers gracefully and with great attention to their riders wishes. However, in the few years before I acquired him, he had grown mighty fat and lazy. Over those four weeks, I rode him twice a day, and we really grew together as horse and rider. He lost quite a bit of weight, and I gained quite a bit of experience in riding. Lets just say he took alot of coaxing to do what I wanted him to.

And he continued to be that way for the rest of his life. He was always a very stubborn horse, who only did something if you begged him to. However, when he did finally perform, it was with such effortless grace that you immediately forgave him. Inevitably, I ended up buying him and Devon after that first month, and I relished in the first summer I spent riding them around my farm, learning to jump old logs, falling off, getting back on again, scrubbing tack, and so many other things, including learning to clean their sheaths (if you don't know what that it, just look it up- I was horrified at that age!). I learned so much responsibility and felt such a deep connection to these horses. I kept a little radio in the barn if they were up for the day, and I played them the local country station for company. I carried a portable radio with me that I would always turn to the same station, so even though we were apart, we could be listening to the same thing. It sounds a bit cheesy now, but it truly was this blossoming affection that taught me much about how it feels to love. I was blessed to learn at a young age.

Three years after I had initially brought Artex into my home, he developed a painful condition of the hooves called laminitis. Inflammation of soft tissue in the hoof can cause separation of that soft tissue from the hard hoof wall, and it is incredibly painful. There are many possible causes of laminitis, and many different degrees of damage it can cause. Artex's first experience was relatively quick to clear up with stall rest and anti-inflammatory drugs, but it is often the case that horses who "founder" (develop laminitis from intake of too much grass), tend to do it again. After the initial episode, Artex had some trouble during the summer months with his feet, and he would have to be put in the barn, so he would eat only hay and rest. Devon had to come with him, because they are very attached and will not tolerate separation for any length of time. The two boys were always very grumpy about their time in the barn. They much preferred the pasture where they could run and play and eat delicious grass. They would stamp their hooves and chew the stall doors and nicker to high heaven when I would come down to feed them, just begging "Let us free from this prison!" Other than summer, Artex always did very well. Without the lush green grass, his laminitis trigger, his pain was at a minimum and his life was happy. This continued for several years.

This past winter, Artex developed a deep and painful abscess in the bottom of his hoof. Due to the location and severity, his laminitis flared up terribly, and he was very lame. I had to come home on several weekends from veterinary school for his appointments and treatments. His foot had to be soaked daily, he required pain medication and his antibiotics regularly, and his dressings had to be changed out. Over those eight weeks, the abscess healed nicely, but the pain in his hooves did not. We bought special shoes with padded soles that helped him feel better for a while, but they eventually lost their comfort for him. A few weeks ago, we switched him to horse shoes put on backwards in order to give his hoof support and allow him to walk in a more natural position. He has been on pain medication every day for weeks. Despite our best efforts, Artex has just not been getting better. His pain as become very severe and he spends several hours of the day lying down. When he isn't lying down, he is hurting. It has been a sobering few weeks for me to see him in such a state. A few days ago, I made one of the most difficult decisions of my life, which will be carried out tomorrow. Artex is going to be euthanized. The bad days are outweighing the good at this point, and I want him to be free of his suffering. To keep him here would be only for selfish reasons, and that is not right. This has been a painful few days for me, but also a peaceful few. I've spent many hours just talking to him, telling him how excited he should be because soon he can run free once again. While it breaks my heart to be losing him, it also heals it to know he will no longer be in pain. I'm watching him in the field now. I've let him out without his grazing muzzle, letting him spend his last night enjoying as much grass as he wants. He's walking around gingerly, Devon never too far behind, and they are consuming the grass that has fed them for so many years. Soon, his remains will provide nutrients for that same grass, and so the circle goes. Five baby groundhogs are playing in the field over where his grave will be. They are the promise of new life even when life is lost. They, and his beautiful dark form, as it moves across the bright green grass in the setting sun, give me a sense of surety in what I have decided to do. I'm scared, but I'm ready, too.

Saturday: 
The morning started in a beautiful way. As the fog was just lifting, I walked down to see Artex and Devon, grazing side by side in the field, cloaked in the mist and rising sun behind them.

I gathered them and took them to the barn. Stubborn to the last, Artex would not allow me to groom him unless he was allowed to graze the whole time. I complied. I had bought 22 red and white roses (to symbolize his years on the earth) with intentions to braid them into his mane. I completed the braid, but as I put in one rose, I turned around to suddenly find it gone. I repeated the procedure twice until I caught Devon in the act of consuming the roses sneakily as I put them in. I decided to save the roses for the grave.

My mother came, and we walked the horses up to the grave site to wait for the vet. The walk up the hill to the spot under the old oak tree was a long and painful one for Artex.  I let him on a long lead, allowing him to enjoy all the lush grass he wanted. I talked gently to him, promising the pain would be over soon. He and Devon constantly implored me for treats, and I fed them the bunch of bananas I had bought for the occasion.

When the vet pulled up, I told him I would like to leave with Devon after the sedation. I had not cried all morning, but when I saw him holding the syringe, the tears flowed freely.

I hugged Artex, patted him, kissed him, and promised I would love him forever, and as he began to get sleepy from the drugs, I walked down the hill with Devon to the barn. I looked back at my living boy one last time to see the bright morning sun behind him, the oak leaning over him, and the relaxed peace of sleep lowering his head. It was beautiful.  We waited for a few minutes  in the barn until we received the call saying he was gone. Up until that minute, Devon had remained calm, but as if he somehow knew he had lost his friend, he suddenly began to cry out in great anguish, throwing himself against the stall doors and pacing wildly. I broke to the floor crying to see his pain. The vet came down and gave Devon a little medicine to calm him down. Once he was calm, I walked him up to Artex and let him sniff his body. He placed his muzzle gently against his friends, and let out a sigh. I had my father take him back to the pasture, and I laid down with Artex's body. His eyes, half open, glistened. I stroked his muzzle, and asked him to promise to watch over Devon. I kissed him goodbye, cried with him, and then walked to Devon as I allowed him to be buried. When the burial was finished, I hiked back up the hill with my roses and the cross that would mark his grave. We put it in the ground, and said a few words. I've spent the last few hours with Devon, who has at least calmed down enough to start eating- but he keeps whinnying for Artex and looking to the hill where we laid him to rest. My heart feels at peace for Artex, but it aches for Devon, and I hope he can find his own peace soon.