Saying Goodbye to Ozzie

As unbelievable as it may seem, I had to say goodbye to Ozzie.

Isn’t it wild this ride these amazing creatures take us on? But even when the story reaches an unhappy turn, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The richness such a loss brings creates a feeling of being in the world in a unique way. It is the stickiness of the rich, sweet, dripping honey that is this life we live. Especially, I think, when we share it with horses.

I call this photo TRUE OZZIE. He was not
flashy. He was beautiful. He loved to eat.
and in the winter months he was fuzzy.

Last Thursday morning Ozzie coliced. For those of you non-horse folks, colic is a sort of catch all name for any number of stomach and gut problems. They can range from a small impaction that will usually clear in a few days with some basic treatment all the way to a twist in the intestine, or sort of “hernia” of the small intestine through a tear in a ligament. This is what Ozzie had.

He was transported to the equine hospital around 9:30 am. He looked all right when we got there. The veterinarian found a large impaction in the large intestine. But she expected it to clear, maybe two to three days.

photo by Elizabeth Spruill

When she called me at 4:00 she was very surprised by the turn of events. He was in tremendous pain, and he should not have been in that much pain for the type of impaction he had. I approved a couple tests. She called me back shortly to tell me the bad news. The tests indicated tissue damage in the small intestine, surgery was recommended.

When I decided to buy a horse, over a year ago, I had to be willing to accept that we could not afford such a surgery. Colic is fairly common. The other option was euthanasia. 

A wise friend had me bring my husband (he had not been super enthusiastic about my horse adventures so it had not crossed my mind to have him come), because I would need a ride home “after” she said. Of course my husband needed to come.

It was very surreal. I cried the whole way there. Folks who know me, know I’m pretty private about my feelings, and cry rarely around other folks. My husband saw my distress openly and unabashed. He cried with me at the hospital as I said goodbye to this sweet horse. (The next day we learned from the necropsy about the tear in a ligament between his stomach and spleen and the nine feet of small intestine that passed through that tear. It is unlikely that he would have survived surgery)

Photo by Elizabeth Spruill (cropped by me)

Ozzie was not perfect, but he was perfect for me. I know in the horse world many of us feel that way. We could handle each other. He took good care of me on the trail. And taught me so much.

He taught me to trust my gut, how to rehab a horse with a radial fracture, how to doctor a necrotic spider bite, and care for a leg stuck through a fence, twice. No three times. Sigh. He taught me about round pen work. He taught me I can ride out some pretty good bucks. He gave me back my confidence in the saddle. He taught me I can make my dreams come true.

He taught me to treasure and feel grateful for every moment with him, and on his back. Last year when he fractured his leg, I hand walked him for 7 months. Rode him at a walk for 30 days. After that I enjoyed every second on his back. And I felt a joy whenever I was with him. Working him, brushing him. Even when he was being "pushy." My tip for all horse owners: treasure every moment. Even if you aren't riding, treasure it. Notice the blessing it is. And if you think you would enjoy having gorgeous photos of you with your horse, get them today. (The pics shown in this post were taken by  photographer Elizabeth Spruill who needed to take some shots of a horse a month or so ago. I volunteered and I did not see the photos until the Sunday after Ozzie was gone. What a treasure.)

He revealed to me the type of life I want to live. I want to be in big open spaces, go down miles and miles of trails. I want to explore parts of this land that are only accessible by horseback (or maybe on foot by some crazy backpacker types). I want to share my life with a horse. Always.

He taught my husband how important horses are to me. My husband wants to come look at horses with me as I begin to look for my next partner.

Photo by Elizabeth Spruill

There was a song I would sing when Ozzie and I were alone on the trail. It is a native American (I don’t know which nation) “welcome” song I learned at a doula (Google it) training at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico several years ago. The main purpose of singing the song was to alert any wild animals we were coming down the trail. There are mountain lion and bear where we boarded. But the great effect of the song was that it made me breathe. I have a bad habit of holding my breath when I ride. Obviously not a good thing when you are going to be in the saddle for several hours. The song made me breathe, relaxed me, and in relaxing me, relaxed Ozzie.

I sang it while I said goodbye. I let my tears flow and be absorbed into the earth, the soil. A native American story tells about how the earth mother is meant to carry our sorrow. We are not meant to carry it for long, we are meant to shed our tears, to let them flow down to her so that we can continue on our life journey free of the burden of our tears. She accepted a lot of my tears over several days, and surely will continue to take them.

My close friends come to know I am a very visual person, and I enjoy watching movies and great shows. As we drove home that night I held some of his tail hair, and smelled it. A scene from a movie popped into my head. Stick with me, it will seem like a divergence, because the movie does not have ONE horse in it.

Have you seen Top Gun? The fighter pilot movie with Tom Cruise from the 80’s? Well, Ozzie is my Goose. For those of you from another planet, who have missed that movie (when Cruise was young and fresh) Goose was Cruise’s characters friend who flew with him. Goose died after an accident in which Cruise’s character, called Maverick, was piloting the plane. The scene I recalled was after that, the flight instructor talking about Maverick, he said, “Get him up flying again, and soon.”

I need to get up flying again, and soon.

Ozzie and I FLYING last month at Bar H 50 mile endurance ride.
PHoto by Lynne Glazer