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Dearest Tiny,
This is how I want to remember you: happiest in the fresh spring grass, with grass midges startled up, surrounding you like little stars.
Unknowable grace brought you into my life. I will be forever grateful for the day you chose me to be one of your inner circle of friends. It was such an ordinary day. We were grooming, getting ready for a ride. I’d long since stopped wondering if you’d ever let me all the way “in”. I propped the door open and left it alone. I was starting to buckle your girth. I’d figured out you needed it done slowly, with breaks. Before I could thread the leather through the buckle, you turned your head all the way around and held it there, waiting for me to look at you. I looked up, thinking I was going too fast. I expected to hear you say “not like that.”
Instead, your eye held mine steadily, silently transmitting a message I couldn’t untangle. I looked back a question. Very slowly and carefully, you reached for my arm, deliberately taking my shirt sleeve into your mouth. You just held it. Looking at me.
I dropped the girth. You didn’t let go. I was flooded with memories of Micah and Lee Lee, so small they didn’t come up to my hip, reaching out to hold my pant leg: in the line at the grocery store, at the doctor’s office, answering the doorbell.
A child holding on to mom: making sure she’s real, making sure she’s in front, making sure if she moves, the wake will carry you.
You were not my child: but the hold was unmistakable: we are connected. I choose you.
I threw my free arm around your neck, afraid to move the one you were holding. You let go of my sleeve, and I hugged you with both arms, holding. You wrapped your long neck and big head all the way around my body and pressed.
That was the first of many hugs. Tiny hugs.
Often when I was sad or confused, you’d reach over and grab a mouthful of my clothing, and simply hold it. It took me many years to realize you were making sure I was in your wake, that you were in front of me: if you moved, I’d go with you. I was astounded by the reversal: you were taking care of me.
I love you Tiny. You changed my life and my heart. Your being was, and still is, a King’s treasure. I will never, ever let you go.
Be free.
That’s one of the best eulogies I’ve ever read. My condolences to you and all Tiny’s friends.
It’s very sad to lose a horse friend that has chosen you like Tiny did. Many hugs.
8(
So sorry to hear this… They break our hearts when they go, because they fill them with so much love when they are here. Going home to hug my boy now.
sorry. sorry. sorry.
Rest in peace.
A King’s treasure indeed.
Many warm embraces for all of you-
So sorry for your loss – love the story. Our Lily has done this from time to time with me, and it’s a very powerful experience.
Aww, I’m so sorry to see this. He sounds like such a special horse. Our condolences and what a lucky guy to be so well-loved…
I am so, so sorry to read this. Tragic.
so sorry….they always take part of our hearts and souls when they go…..
What a terrible loss. I’m so sorry that Tiny had to move on to where somewhere he’s holding the sleeve of an angel…
I want to be clear that Tiny belonged to Lily, but he had a wide circle of friends, me among them, thankfully.
He picked his people, and once you were his, you were HIS. He completely fell in love with Alice the first time he met her. (No big surprise.)
He was also just as clear if he did not want to be friends with someone. Anyone he didn’t like was invisible or got dumped, if he didn’t figure out his feelings until they were onboard.
It had nothing to do with rider skill level. He’d let little kids yank and pound and screech if he liked them. I also saw him decide he didn’t like a skilled, quiet and experienced trainer. Once she was on. He warned her repeatedly to get off, with Lily yelling “Get off! Get off!”. Tiny could buck when he wanted to.
I was so lucky to have the last 8 years of being Tiny’s friend and at times, co-care provider.
I have a mare like this. I am her caregiver but not her special person. Her special person is a teenager who lives across the street. The day Maggie walked into the barn, Tivey picked her and it has affected dramatic change for both of them. It’s a privilege to see and be part of!
I’m so very sorry to hear about the loss of your Tiny; I’m sure he will always have a very special place in your heart.
*oh*
I am so sorry…and very sad. for you and the world. We need Tiny in the world. He will be missed. That he was so young makes it all the harder, I imagine.
The special characteristics of draft horses and draft crosses could not be better portrayed than here in your post.
May you always inhabit green pastures, Tiny.
Oh my gosh, Jane I am so very sorry to hear this. What a tragic loss. Beautifully written, this brings tears to my eyes. Run in peace Tiny.
Jane, when you are feeling up to it, please swing by my blog. Hope you’re hanging in there.