I’ve been trying to sleep, but all I can do is cry. So, I might as well do something productive.
We euthanized Lego today. He started colicking yesterday around noon, and he couldn’t shake it. Julia, Frannie, Ashley, and I spent all night with him. But when our vet came out to check on him this morning, his body was already shutting down. He was brave and stoic to the end. And still ready to cuddle.
I never understood why people would cry when a loved one (be it pet, family member, or close friend) died. In my mind, they were going to a better place, leaving behind pain, or both. I understand now. I’m not crying for Lego. I’m crying for myself and the Future Lego that will never be. I will never again look out of the office window and see him looking adorably dorky in his bright orange hood. I will never again get to watch him turn himself inside out to get a treat when we do cookie stretches. I will never get to gallop him over a steeple chase course. I will never get to see him pack a 12 year old around a hunter course, and beam like a proud momma to see my little Stumpy Lego being so perfect. I had a lot of shiny dream sequences starring him. But now I have to put those away and think about my reality.
This horse worked his way into my heart like no other. I met him during a difficult part of my life. I’m still coming to grips with just how difficult life is. It just seems to be a big series of transitions, some good, some bad.
I let him break through the barriers I put up so much that for most of last night I didn’t know if I would continue riding if he died. But if I gave up riding, I might never find another Lego. So, I’ll continue to work with horses in the hopes that I may one day find a unique horse that I can love as fiercely as I did Lego. But if I do, I hope I hope I get to spend a little more time with that horse.