Snowdrop - So Many Ways to Die

I rescue horses. At Eye of the Storm we have lost three horses this year. The third was Snowdrop. Unlike the first two, Noogie and Sun, it was not sudden but planned.

She was a beautiful little gray Arab, 27 years old. She had serious, unmanageable laminitis and had taken a turn for the worse. On the day that I found that blood serum had found its way out of a three inch crack along her coronary band, I knew it was the beginning of the end. She had the tender little spots that would soon become pressure sores all over her body from lying down so

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much. I was no longer able to manage her pain. Her spirit had retreated to that gray place where the wounded go when there is no hope. I knew from the look in her eyes that it was time to let her go.

We loved her so much. We all took time to fuss over her. If love could have saved her, she would still be carrying children on her back and loving us all in return. She had an incredibly powerful spirit that, until now, had shown in her fiery, dark, beautiful eyes. She was so brave in all those years of pain, she never whimpered.

She was born at Vantage Point Farm in Washington State and registered as VP Juhlie. Her father was El Hilal. I guess he was some kind of fancy guy (see his photos and impressive show record) and I guess she was once a very fancy girl. She had five foals. She had a freeze brand on her neck. Years went by. I have no idea how she finally ended up as a camp horse. What happened in all the years in between? I know only when I found this tattered little soul that she had finally made it home. She stayed with us for the last seven years of her life. She was loved, honored, and cherished. She never worked again. She was  all paid up. She didn't owe the human race a thing.

On the last day of her life we made seven tiny braids in her mane, wove in silk flowers, and took her picture for the last time. She looked like an exhausted fairy princess pony. There was almost no light left in her eyes. We snipped off the tiny braids to keep and to remember.

The day was perfect. There was warm, soft rain pouring down upon us as we took our last walk together. We took Solomon and Junebug, too. We made a sad procession down to the grave site. Junebug was the only horse friend Snowdrop had - the only one she ever had, the only one she had physical contact with as they groomed each other. Solomon loved her, too - probably loved her the most.

As she fell asleep in death I held her face as the last of the light went out in her eyes. The soft, warm rain fell upon us all as we watched the pain leave her body forever, as she received the last gift - the end of a life of pain in the loving arms of her friends. Even the sky was crying. Solomon and Junebug came to see and touch her, to know that she was never coming back.

And so ends the life of one sweet, beautiful little horse. So many had been touched and changed by knowing this shattered little gray mare. So many loved her. Most of us love our horses and can imagine their end of life care in no other way. Unfortunately, in most facets of this industry, there are horses who are not beloved family members to be cared for despite illness, disability, or old age.