JESSIE (kind of long)

[CAROL HEARD <carolheard@mcsi.net>]

CMKSAGEHIL@aol.com wrote:
Thank goodness such things are rare, but they do happen.  We had a horse die at a ride where I was vetting several years ago, about 3 miles from the start.  The rider left camp last, quite sedately, going out for a "picnic" sort of a ride.  Mare was in excellent health, had vetted fine at check-in,and did not appear at all stressed leaving camp--just curious and alert as one would expect.  She reared up and flipped over dead.  Was apparently a ruptured aneurysm in the brain--could just as easily have happened at home in the pasture, and likely would have sooner or later...

> Heidi
Heidi, That would have been July 17th, 1993 at the
Bandit Springs ride.
Since you had vetted Jessie at several other
rides & knew how hot she could be you took note of how much effort
I had taken to get her into a relaxed state at a ride. I remember as I
left camp that day that you commented something like, "She's actually walking!"
My plans were to do a really slow fifty. She had easily done a 60 the month
before & was in great shape.

Tribute to Jessie: (From my heart)
Huddled on the damp ground, leaning back against the pine tree, I couldn't help but let my mind wander over the past thirteen years. Thoughts of Jessie marched through my mind like scenes from an old movie.
My sister had bred her bay arab mare to a bay stallion so that I could have my first foal.  The tall bay colt I had envisioned arrived on St. Patrick's day.
As I watched the birth, to my surprise an orange foal emerged (are horses supposed to be orange?). It was a very short orange filly to be exact. Her independent nature surfaced immediately as she rebelled at her mother's nuzzling.
The scenes continued to play in my mind as I remembered Jessie playing go-cart tag with my oldest son. She would hide behind the sawdust pile, gleefully waiting for him to go by so she could pop out & chase him. Minutes later I would see her racing back in front of the go-cart as if to say 'It's after me!'.  She'd dive behind the sawdust only to repeat the performance.
Sometimes as she grew it was difficult to remember that she was a horse. A stern 'Come here' immediately brought the dogs and a sometimes reluctant Jessie. When it was time to go for a walk there were the dogs plus one short stocky orange horse.
When foaling time came, Jessie kindly waited for me to arrive to check on her before giving birth.  I couldn't help but smile a little as I remembered her seeming impatience as she nuzzled me in greeting and then promptly laid down next to me to foal.
Her very special nature was in evidence the day I brought home a seven day old colt that has been savaged by his dam. She immediately accepted him as if to say, 'Come on Baby. Don't be afraid. It's okay; I'll be your Momma now'. She raised him as her own.
The scenes in my mind moved closer to the present.  This morning her ground-eating running walk had carried me through incredibly beautiful lush meadows profusely adorned with wildflowers.  The trail was a thin ribbon through the grass.  Jessie's ears were up as she curiously looked at everything.
She always seemed to have such a zest for life.
Suddenly, she stopped and backed up rapidly.  How unlike her I thought as she sat down, rolling backwards, stretching out onto her side. 'What are you doing, Jessie?  Get off my leg!'  Why doesn't she respond?  'Jessie, Get up!, Get up!' There is no light in Jessie's eyes now.
I don't know how many hours I've sat under this tree next to Jessie stroking her neck, but it finally begins to sink in that Jessie is gone. There will be no more soft nickers as she takes the liberty of peering in the sliding glass door to beg for another carrot.  There will be no more times when she wraps her neck around me as if to return my hug.  Jessie, I'll always remember you. My heart aches at the loss of you, but I take joy in your memory. Good-bye my Friend.

carol (used to be Neal) Heard
roseburg, oregon