A sad ending...

I still miss my P.

It's been four and a half months, and I still miss him every day.  Sometimes it's a long slow ache, just sitting underneath my sternum, and sometimes it hits me like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind out of me.  I cry more than I ever used to - at anything sappy or ridiculously sad, it seems, not merely his memory.  I still cannot handle to thought of a dying horse - even a fictional one.  I've gone from feeling tough as nails to feeling like a weepy emotional girl, and I still don't know who this new girl is.

May 1, 2009.  The day I watched my best friend die.

It was the start of the spring finals period.  I was supposed to take my first exam that day.  Instead I got a text from my trainer.  "P is sick" is all it said.  I called her, worried.  We had already been through a bout of pigeon fever last fall, and then a nasty cold after that which seemed to stretch on forever.  What else could go wrong?  Why was my wonderful little horse, who was never sick a day in his life, all of a sudden constantly sick?  Michelle didn't know what was wrong.  He wasn't displaying the typical signs of colic - he wanted to lie down, but showed no signs of wanting to roll or kick at his belly.  She was waiting on the vet.  "Don't come out," she said.  "I'll call you when we know what's going on."

I was on my way to school, but changed direction and went to the barn.  I couldn't get that nagging thought out of my head - that I needed to go say goodbye.  I kept telling myself I was being ridiculous, it would be fine.  But I couldn't silence that voice, so I went.

I got to the barn and Piney was in the outdoor arena, with Michelle and our friend Paige.  He was lying down and didn't get up when I approached.  But when I got close enough to stand next to him and stroke his neck and face, he leaned his head against my leg and didn't move it.  I sat down next to him, in the dusty arena, and he put his nose on my leg, and just sighed.  My heart broke a little bit - my stoic boy.

The vet - not our usual vet, but her on-call replacement - still hadn't arrived.  Michelle had called her over two hours earlier.  "I'll go get my phone," I volunteered.  When I got up, Piney tried to get up as well.  He wanted to stay close to me.  I didn't go get my phone.  Instead I stayed with my brave little horse.

Eventually the vet arrived, did an exam, and used a stomach tube to relieve the pressure in his belly.  Her best guess was colic.  However, Piney didn't respond to any of the medication.  Even sedatives didn't seem to have much effect.  After much discussion, we elected to take him down to the vet hospital at OSU to see if they could do anything.  Michelle's husband arrived with the truck, we hooked up the trailer, and loaded Piney into it; then away we went to Corvallis.  My heart was in my throat the entire two-hour trip.

When we arrived at OSU, they took Piney straight back and began a battery of tests.  I stayed in the doorway watching, unable to take my eyes off the scene.  At some point I realized I was kneeling, tears streaming down my cheeks, my arms crossed over my stomach, like I was trying to hold everything together by the sheer force of my will alone.  I tried to stand up and found that I couldn't.  I had never been so terrified in my entire life.

The vet came to speak with us.  The doctors weren't sure what it was - their best guess was a splenic displacement, which came with a recommendation of surgery.  Michelle and I looked at each other - we didn't want to put Piney through surgery.  He was 25, and we knew the surgery would not be kind to him.  We also didn't know if he would make it through the recovery period.  Piney loved to work, and would not handle months of stall rest graciously.

Michelle excused herself to take a walk.  She had to make the decision, not me; Piney was her horse, I only leased him.  I knew in my heart that surgery was the wrong option for him, but I was still willing to try and treat this medically.  After a few minutes, Michelle came back; she agreed with me.

The doctors and techs transferred Piney to a stall and outfitted him with fluids and medications.  Michelle and I stayed in the stall with him, willing him to get better.  He stood with his head pressed against my stomach, my arms wrapped around his head.  My grumpy, standoffish old man needed me.  I whispered all the things I needed to tell him into his fuzzy ear - that he was the best horse in the world, my best friend, the best teacher I've ever had, how much I love him.  And I asked him to let go.  I told him not to hold on for me; that if he needed to let go, it was okay.

The painkillers quickly began to wear off.  Piney started shaking, small tremors that gradually progressed.  I realized that I was still crying.  I had been crying more or less continuously for about two hours by now, to the point that I really was no longer aware of it, but for some reason now I was.  I looked at Michelle.  "It's time, we need to let him go," I whispered.

So I stood and watched my best friend die.  I talked to him the whole time, telling him what a good boy he was and that I would always love him.  After he was gone, the doctors let us stay with him.  Michelle and I sat next to him stroking his head and neck for almost half an hour, neither of us willing to leave him and face the truth: that he was not coming back; we had to haul an empty trailer the two hours home.

I kept a lock of his mane.  It sits on my nightstand next to my alarm clock, a reminder of my gentle, funny boy.  I found out later that Michelle was going to give him to me for a graduation present, even if we had to retire him at that point.  He had chosen me.  He was my horse.  This was incredibly gratifying for me; I always thought of him as my horse, it was nice to know that others saw that as well.

My biggest regret is that I did not take enough pictures of him, or the two of us together.  This is a screen cap from a video at our last show; sorry for the poor quality:

My wonderful little Piney Bo.  You were my partner in everything, and I am grateful for every moment I had with you.  I wish there were more of them.

Reboot.

Been a while since I've posted on this here blog.

Hitting the reset button..... now.

Back in the saddle... almost.

Have you ever loved something so much that it becomes a part of you? I'm not talking about a person at all, I'm talking about an activity, a place, something that just transforms your life? It gets in your blood, becomes the very air that you breathe, without your even realizing it, and you take for granted the fact that it will be there everyday.

But then things change--you move, you lose touch with old friends, and one day you wake up to realize that there is a giant hole in your soul and you have no way to fill it. Every day you wake up, you go through the motions of your life, and it's not that there's anything wrong with your life per se, but you still feel like, underneath it all, nothing is right. You try to ignore the hole, maybe you try to fill it with something else, but nothing quite fits.

After a time, you start to forget that things were better before, and you accept that this may be your life from here on out. However, if you're lucky, something happens to snap you out of your self-imposed lethargy, and you find that missing piece that helps to complete your life.

For the last four years, I have had a horse-shaped hole in my soul. They say that every little girl goes through a phase where she wants a pony, but I never grew out of that phase. I was a horse-crazy kid for as far back as I can remember. I was lucky enough to attend a college where I could study equine science, which only cemented my lifelong love affair with all things equine. However, after graduating, I moved up here to Portland, and had neither the time nor the money to become seriously involved with horses or riding, so I just eventually accepted the fact that this was my life now, and horses were a luxury for the college years, when I had lots of free time (and parents footing the bill), but not destined for my future.

Two weekends ago, through the wonder that is CraigsList, I got a job at a local private boarding stable. I'm doing the morning feeding and turnout on Sundays. It's about 5-6 hours a week, and it's nothing I'll be doing for glory or money, but it's so nice just to be back in a barn again, talking to horse people, breathing in the horsey smells... I'm getting all smooshy just thinking about it now. There's no riding involved (yet), but that's okay. That horse-shaped hole finally found the piece that fits.

In pursuit of happiness.

My friend C and I have worked together for the last year, and I truly feel that she is the older sister I never had. I have so much respect and love for her; we are very alike, so we simply understand each other at a very basic level. Because of that, I absolutely loved going to work--that is, until she decided to move an hour away! Work is no longer quite the same without her sitting at the desk next to mine, making me laugh until I can't help but pee a little. (Well, just kidding. Mostly.)

So C called me this evening, just to catch up and share the minutiae of our lives the way we used to, and at the end of our conversation, she said, "Well, you sound happy." At the time, I didn't think much of it, and continued on with our conversation, but as the evening has worn on those four words have been pounding away at my consciousness, and I have slowly come to realize that, right now, I truly am happy. If you ask me, I'll probably gripe about being super busy and stressed out and work is crazy and too much family drama and OH MY GOD. But tonight I've come to realize that the undercurrent of feeling in my life is not merely happiness but exhilaration. I feel like, over the last few years, I have put restrictions on my happiness, qualifications if you will--I can't be truly happy because I don't make enough money, because I'm still single, because I'm heavier than I want to be. I feel like I've just been waiting for all these milestones to come to pass: I'll be happy when I have a boyfriend, when I lose weight, when I figure out what to do with my life, etc etc etc.

But tonight, all that dropped. I feel like, for the first time since college, I can just be happy. Life itself is enough; why should I wait for some stupid qualification to dictate my feelings? It's like a weight has just dropped off my shoulders, and the sense of freedom is only adding to my exhilaration with life. Internets, you are my witness: I am NOT going to forget this lesson that C inadvertently taught me.

Apparently I can change the course of the world using only my blog.

Why, oh why, did I spend my entire last post whining about the weather? Because y'all, we got Weather. We got enough damn Weather to last me the rest of the year!

My parents, who also live here in Portland, left on Tuesday morning for Costa Rica for 2 weeks. I am currently house/dogsitting for them, and we had arranged for me to take them to the airport on Tuesday morning before work.

Well. That little trip, which should have been 45 minutes to an hour (both ways) ended up taking us (me) FOUR HOURS. Four goddamn hours. Because it was snowing. And not in a pretty, "oh look, it's snowing!" kind of way. More of a "oh holy shit we are going to DIE here on the highway!" kind of way.

Y'all, Portlanders do not do snow. We do not understand it, we don't know how to drive in it, walk in it, or otherwise handle it. If we get more than an inch the entire city shuts down. Well, yesterday we got a lot more than an inch. At my parents' house, which is up in the West Hills and thus at a generally higher elevation than most of Portland, there is close to five inches.

FIVE INCHES, Y'ALL.

Luckily, I was driving my parents' Durango, which has 4WD and so was able to get home safely (although the drive itself was completely nerve wracking and I think it took 5 years off my life). But, now that I'm home, I can't get out again.

You see, my parents live at the bottom of a very steep hill. And even in our brave old Durango, I am not getting my ass up that hill. Today I tried. I decided I was going to go to work. So I backed the car out of the garage, started to back down the driveway, and promptly slid sideways about 3 feet. I was afraid for a moment that the truck wasn't going to stop at all.

Luckily it did. But that was as far as I got today. I couldn't even get the Durango back into the garage. So now it's sitting, kind of crooked-like across the driveway and kind of on the snow-covered lawn (so white trash, y'all!). Awesome.

But. Do you know how boring it can be when you're stuck in someone else's house, and they don't have your DVDs or your CDs and your damn laptop decides to break? Do you? Because let me tell you, it can be pretty damn boring! I was starting to feel pretty damn housebound by yesterday evening, but at this point I have a genuine case of cabin fever. If I do not get out of the house tomorrow I may go nutso on y'all.

So. Tomorrow I am going to conquer that hill. I will make it my bitch. I will get to work! And for once, I will actually be ecstatic to go!

Baby, it's Cold Outside...

Y'all, here in the Pacific Northwest, we have been having some Weather.

At least, we have been trying to have some Weather. The Weather is not so much cooperating.

I have to say, much as I love living here in Portland, I hate hate hate the Portland news stations--radio, TV, or otherwise. They have the worst habit of horribly exaggerating EVERY LITTLE WEATHER BLIP. During the winter, they're constantly forecasting snow, only to say, "Whoops! Just kidding" the next day. It is maddening--unless you live here, you have no idea how frustrating it is!

In case you are not aware of the climate here in the Pacific Northwest, it is generally pretty temperate. Not too hot in the summer, not too cold in the winter, rains a lot, everything's green, very nice. Most of the time it seems like our winter temperatures stay around the mid thirties-to-forties. Very manageable (especially since it's probably raining).

I understand that we live in a wet area. And, if the temperature dips below freezing, then it most likely will be icy. I understand all of that. And yet, these stupid news weatherpeople turn every cold front into "THE STORM OF THE CENTURY." I kid you not.

So, the point of this whole "weather" blather (oh my god, I'm actually writing a blog entry about the weather! What is wrong with me?) was that earlier this week we were supposed to get a big snowstorm, temperatures in the teens and twenties, the world will end, etc.

But guess what? It didn't happen.

Sure, we got some snow. Some being the operative word here. Most of the Metro area got anywhere from a dusting to an inch. And then it all melted because it was 35-38 degrees outside.

Guess those newscasters have egg on their face. One of the local stations actually has a weather blog, and they admitted that they should have paid more attention to other weather models that forecasted the lack of moisture. Gee, ya think? Too bad you were too busy trying to get some stupid ratings for your damn television station!

So, to the point:

Lack of snow notwithstanding, it finally has gotten cold. Y'all, it's 25 degrees outside right now. I realize that's nothing if you're from Montana or wherever, but here in Portland, it's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra! And I am FREEZING my ass (and toes, and fingers too for that matter) off!

Y'all, I'm sorry for this post. Truly I am. If you've stuck with me this long, I applaud you! I'll post something more exciting soon, I promise!

I love procrastination!

Hey y'all! Been a while, I know. There has been nothing going on at all, I swear! Just worky work work, and there's nothing very exciting or blog-worthy in that... I spent the entire last weekend procrastinating; I'm supposed to be writing my "personal statement" for my law school applications, but instead I watched The Office. The entire second season, actually. In 3 days. I watched so much of The Office that all my dreams on Saturday night featured characters from the show... Hello, I have no life! (But, to be fair, Steve Carell is the funniest man alive, and I just can't resist his genius!)

In other news, the Internet is bored stiff after reading this blog!

Seriously though, y'all, it is National Delurking Week, and if there is anybody out there reading this (I have no idea how to check my site's stats! Can anybody tell me how to do that in Blogger?), delurk! It would make my day, nay, my week, nay, my year to know that somebody cares or is amused by my ramblings! On the other hand, I am the Queen Lurker, and I am going to be making a concentrated effort this week to delurk on all my favorite sites. So yay me!