Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

I’ve spent the entire day convincing myself that “there was something wrong with her. Something in her gut. Something causing her not to be able to eat even though she was hungry. There was something wrong with her.”

All of the symptoms point to something medically wrong inside of Judy’s body: the severe weight loss, the inability to consume more than just a few cups of feed, the anemic condition signaling a bleed somewhere in her system, and the continued and progressing weakness. Add all of these things together with the sleep deprivation and yes, there was something wrong with her.

Given the medical issues, Dr. Brian reassured me this morning that if it wasn’t this morning it would be tomorrow morning or the next morning. And being hungry all the time but unable to eat must be a nasty place to be. “There was something wrong with her, Sandy. We’ll never know what it was, but there was something wrong in her body.”

I hear all of that. I hear the logic. I see the symptoms. I recognize the battle she was in. I saw the weakness. I know her age. I saw that growing strong was not something Judy could do. I see all of that. Hear all of that. But I had hope. You see, in my world and in my heart, love and hope can conquer just about anything.

I had hope that feed would be enticing to her. That the fine hay I had for her would be tasty and good for her tummy. That the medicines would heal the wound – whatever it was – in her gut and help her muscles rebuild. That my hugs and love and encouragement would help her overcome. I had hope.

But this morning, Judy was down and all attempts to raise her were without effect. She just did not want to stand again. This noble horse had come to realize, for herself, that there was something wrong inside of her and that her strength and stamina would not return. She knew.

As I had expected, her loyal twin stood valiantly beside her while we waited. Every once in a while Sandy would lower her head and they would exchange air. Judy would noticeably calm down and Sandy would squeal at her. But Judy knew something was wrong and so she lay there. No longer attempting to get up on those old, shaky legs of hers.

Judy crossed this morning. So soon after arriving and stealing our hearts. Way too soon. But yes, there was something wrong with her. I’ve been telling myself that all day. Trying to convince myself that nothing more could have been tried. Trying to find a way to forgive myself for not being able to help her. For not being there when she went down. Maybe then, when she was first down, she would have had the strength to rise again.

Tonight as I fed everyone, I looked at the empty spot in the corner. Sandy standing in her place in the big barn but the spot to her left now vacant. The Grand Dame, Judy, has crossed. Left an enormous hole in the barn after only a few days with us. Yes, there was something wrong with her. Something in her gut. Something bleeding. Something that would not allow this hungry mare to eat the food that she needed.

And then it hit me.

Something was, indeed, wrong with her . . . . but at the very same time everything, absolutely everything, was right with her.

Written in love and hope and gratitude for you, Judy -
Sandy and The Herd