When my daughter Whitney was young she had a yellow Arab quarter horse
filly named Cassie that she had trained and had a couple thousand
miles of endurance on. She loved that horse more than life itself. We were
headed home to Montana from riding the tevis and somewhere in the middle of
Nevada the filly started to colic in the trailer. We found a vet
clinic way out in the middle of nowhere and stayed in a motel not far from
the clinic for almost a week until Cassie was stable and doing pretty
well. The vet wanted us to leave her there for another week so she could
get stronger for the rest of the trip home. So we headed home
as Whitney's school was starting. We spoke to the vet everyday
and Cassie was doing great and on Thursday he told us to head down to get
her that weekend....later that day he called and said she had taken a terrible
turn for the worse and he had no choice but to put her down. I asked what was
going to be done with her body and he said she would be thrown in the gully with
all the other dead livestock. I was devastated by the whole thing and dreading
telling Whitney when she got home from school. My husband heard the news,
and within an hour was headed out with the old flatbed pickup to make
the 10 hour drive one way to pick up the body, pack it in ice, and bring it
all the way home. Which he did, and buried her in the front pasture not
far from the house. He built a little fence with a little gate around the grave
site so Whitney would have her own little private spot to be with
her Cassie. From then on, my husband can do no wrong and that was
20 years ago!
