Devon was, in many ways, the perfect horse. He may not have been the fairest gelding in the field, but he had the most pure and loving heart. He had a joy for all things--particularly running fast, bucking, rolling, and eating any and all treats presented before him. He had a gentle curiosity that would lead him to follow you around the field whether you wanted him to or not. And he never let you out of reach of his soft muzzle and smacking lips, which were constantly at your pockets looking for more treats. That horse never showed his age when I rode him. I owned him from when he was 16-28, and the whole time he still acted like a 2 year old under saddle. He always wanted to go go go. He had a terrible habit of throwing his head up at me in angst when I forced him to walk or trot and he wanted to canter or gallop (which was always). Once, I foolishly thought I would allow him to go full speed up a steep hill at the end of our ride. The first 20 seconds were absolutely glorious. I gripped his mane and felt as if I were on wings as we catapulted above the ground. But as we got closer to fence, I realized Devon wasn't slowing down. At the very last second, he leaned back with full force and skidded sideways up to the side of the fence, somewhat like fast cars do in movies. However, unlike fast cars in movies, I lacked a seat belt and went tumbling over Devon's side, along with the saddle. It was about that moment that I remembered the fence was lined with barbed wire. I looked down to see my white breeches torn and soaked with blood all along the back of my leg. I promptly passed out. When I awoke some minutes later, it was to find Devon quietly munching grass beside me, with his saddle hanging from his belly and his bridle still on. He gave me an inquisitive look like, "So, why do I still have this tack on?" and I gathered my senses enough to remove it from him. I couldn't call my mom, this being in a time before cell phones were commonplace, so I forced myself to look away from the sight of my leg and limp up the driveway from the barn to my house. I had many cuts that had bled alot, but they were fairly superficial, and I didn't need stitches. I have one good sized scar from it today, but the rest have faded. Though it caused me pain, it is one of my favorite memories of him. The rushing headlong into fun and only slowing when absolutely necessary, as well as the watching over of a crumpled me, are so quintessentially Devon.
The day I lost him was heartbreaking and terrible. I woke up to a missed call and a text from my father saying, "Please call me immediately. Devon is down." I had lived for some years in fear of this text. I always used to tell Artex but not Devon, "Please don't die on me while I'm away at college," because I always just felt Devon would live to be 40. But ever since I lost Artex last June, every missed call from my dad would make my heart skip a beat. One week before I lost Devon, I started having various nightmares about him being taken from me while I had no power to help him. The night before I got the dreaded text,I had a dream early in the night about Artex. He was talking to me in a field. When I woke, I felt the most acute pang of sadness for missing Artex and for my Devon. I sat up crying in my bed while Zack held me. I can't remember what Artex said in the dream, but it must have been about Devon. I can't explain what power allowed that interaction, but I think it was a sign. The morning after the dream, as soon as I got on the phone with my dad, I knew the situation was grave. Devon was found lying in the field, and the only part of him that was moving was a twitching upper lip. Devon's normal vet was out of town, and so another was to come out to see him. Zack and I jumped in the car and started driving home immediately. On the car ride home, I got a call from the veterinarian saying that he couldn't make a diagnosis on Devon with his physical alone, but that he was fading fast. We continued to trudge onward to home. I didn't expect him to make it until I got there.
When I arrived at the pasture edge, jumped the fence, and tore down the hill to see my baby, the sight of him nearly stopped my heart. He was completely stiff in his legs, and his head and neck were seizing. His eyes rolled in their sockets and that soft sweet lip that always searched for treats shook on and on. I bent down and lay myself across his neck. I stroked his face and told him, " You can let go now love, please go see Artex." Within one minute, his body relaxed, he took a last heaving breath, and he left this world. It was during this time that I seemed to become aware that my mother, father, and Zack were also around. They all expressed their sadness differently. Mom was frantically talking about how he waited on me, she just knew it, because of how he relaxed when I spoke. My dad was silent and watchful. Zachary was quietly crying to himself. I looked upon those who have shaped who I am, including Devon. It meant the world that they were there for me, but I then asked them to step away for a moment. I needed my minute with a creature who had also shaped my life as much as they had, and I hope that I also shaped his life. I curled up there on his neck, taking the fetal position, and felt both incredibly young and incredibly old at the same time. Twelve years of perfect friendship and understanding were wrapped in that moment, and I let my tears pour all over his mane as they had so many times before.
My two beautiful horses are one of the major reasons I am where I am today. I left the barn one evening years ago, smelling of sweat and hay and manure, and I realized that I was completely and utterly happy. If I could be covered in the scents of animals and have worked hard for several hours and be happy, I knew exactly what I needed to do with my life. In that epiphany, when I was 17, I decided that I would work with everything in my being to be a veterinarian to help animals. And I am still working as hard as I can. As Emerson would say, I feel that when all my arrows are spent, I will throw my body at the mark of my goal. Sometimes I still can't believe my parents granted my crazy wish of wanting a horse when I was 12 years old. Deep down, I believe they knew what they were giving me was far more than what I was asking for. Those two horses gave me determination, taught me what hard work was, allowed me to fly across fields, gave me someone to talk to when I was happy or sad or angry, and ultimately planted within me a seed of love for all creatures that I carry with me today. Devon and Artex are in my heart always. Devon's loss came unexpectedly, and I was not prepared for it. But truly, we are never prepared for death. Even when it was Artex, and I made the decision, I wasn't prepared for the flooding of memories, the pain, and ultimately, I hope, the peace I will gain in losing something so important. Until then, sweet boys, run free and eat every banana in your path.
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