Their differences on hold, the girls have other, more important concerns now: it is dinner time. Photo by Carole Dell
It happened slowly at first. Simple thoughts of a horse I had once owned began appearing in my mind.
Over 20 years ago, I sold Tangier, a black-bay gelding with a kind eye and a thick, flowing mane. The persistence of his mental image made it hard to ignore, so I needed to find him. Was he in trouble? Was he even alive? Why now?
I looked up the name of the doctor who bought Tangier, but he was not listed. Then I tried to find the man’s daughter, who once wrote me a thank you note so gorgeous that I saved it. I threw her name out to the Facebook universe where everyone is somewhere.
Several days later she appeared on my page. Now married, living in North Carolina, she wrote that, yes, she still had Tangier. She was amazed to hear from me because they were about to make a decision on his future; I was amazed she still had him. I told her my story, how Tangier slyly entered my thoughts and stayed there.
She listened and explained that her family, who kept Tangier in Virginia, would be moving and couldn’t take the horse. Their vet advised that because of Tangier’s age it might be humane to euthanize him because he would be difficult to place. The few alternatives could result in neglect or being sent to auction, which, for old horses, is a beeline to the slaughterhouse.
Considering what she told me, we figured that maybe Tangier had scouted for a backup plan, so to say, meaning me. Oh, did I mention that he had a lifelong companion, a 30-year-old mare named Alia? They could not be separated. Tangier failed to mention this in our so-called horse-to-human communications.
So I had two old souls to consider, still the decision remained easy: bring them back home to savor a few more green summers. They would come full circle. But, how was I to know that my efforts would encounter a few hurdles? As Oscar Wilde said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”
On departure day, Tangier and Alia resembled a sweet old married couple readying for that long overdue vacation. Not having been in a horse trailer in all those years, we thought they would balk, but they took one “we’re going places” look at the gleaming transport and walked right in.
At our farm the trailer taxied up our gravel driveway with the heft of a 747 arriving at an airport gate, only the gate was mine. Too big to maneuver easily through the opening, it scraped the electronic eye beam off the post and made the whole thing go limp.
Then before Alia could exit her joy ride, the driver asked me to take a look at a tumor that they discovered on her fetlock. During the loading process it began to bleed. Not to worry, I said, a bit surprised, I will call the vet.
We walked them to the barn and like old times, they were home again. A time for rejoicing, and I expected welcoming whinnies from my two mares, Aaba and Fatiyah. Instead, they emerged from their winter torpor into stomping, prancing, mustang-mannered outlaws, raging at the presence of these interlopers. But, I knew that with time and proximity they would be friends and so ignored the hilarious posturing.
As I settled them in, I thought it was a bit odd that Alia showed up with a tumor, since a vet checked them beforehand. Then, less than 24 hours later, Tangier choked.
Those who know horses know of choke. Horses can choke on many things, especially if a mouthful of food becomes impacted in the esophagus. It is frightening and serious and I called the vet again.
I did all I could to help Tangier, comforted him, and waited, while the wind howled and the moon slid across the bitter sky. I prayed the vet would arrive soon, and when she did, we were able to relieve the blockage.
Eventually, Tangier became quieter and his breathing took on a more regular rhythm. The moon was now out of sight and Tangier was now out of danger. The vet went home and I went to bed. I set my alarm for a frigid 4 a.m. barn check.
As I stepped into the cold barn, a chipper-looking Tangier greeted me with a bright whinny ready for the dinner that never was. To his delight, I spent the next week hand-feeding him like some big furry toddler with a sore throat.
Now everyone is settled in and happy. As for me, I feel that his presence in my thoughts was real. When I look into Tangier’s eyes, I know he understands. Our new beginning may have had a few bumps, but spring will be here soon and with it renewal for my two old souls; not to mention that we are together again after so many years.