For he was great of heart.

[glenatron]

For anyone who has missed out on me and Othello you can probably trace back through posts tagged about horses, but I will put a few chosen photos here, just to give you an idea of how things have been going until now:

The day he arrived, a bit sweaty and with room for a touch more condition.

A year on, he was looking a lot more solid and working a lot more softly, we had developed into a pretty cool team.

The two of us a month or so back, in the field after we had done some work together. He was totally free to go, but he just stood with me, his head resting heavy on my arm. After all the time we spent building that bond, it was a moment I will always treasure.

Trotting, a few weeks ago - it was my birthday and shortly after this was taken he took me for my first ever canter. It felt brilliant.

This is a totally average picture with not particular artistic merit. It is however, the last Othello portrait.

Sequoia had been invited to play in Toronto as part of Canadian music week, so after giving the ponies breakfast last monday we ambled off to the airport and flew to Canada.

On Tuesday our kind (and vastly experienced) friend who was keeping an eye on the ponies noticed that he had a bit of a shiver on and didn't seem interested in his hay so she brought him in to a stable and rugged him for the night. She phoned the vets who said he had a bit of a chill and she was doing the right thing.

At 4 a.m. (Toronto time) on Wednesday we got a call saying his condition had worsened- he hadn't eaten and was still shivering, when our friend asked him to move over he had almost gone down. She called the vet out immediately but as his condition deteriorated I think it increasingly became clear what was likely to happen. The vet thought he had probably suffered a major organ failure, but they could take him to the equine hospital and get him thoroughly tested to be sure. Given that he could hardly stand, he had never been a good traveller and that if any of the things they suggested were correct then there would still be nothing they could do it was clear to all of us, I think, what decision would be in his best interests. We gave the word for them to put him down.

That morning I broke more completely than I ever have before. I was fortunate that I had Lou there to handle practicalities because I was hardly coherent. The loss of a dear and honest friend, as fine a pony as anyone could ever wish for, cut me through and through and I felt that I had let him down terribly by teaching him he could trust me, building that bond up between us and then not being there at the end when really I should have been.

Lou disputed the latter point. She feels that as far as he could, he chose a time to go that I wouldn't be there. She observes that my last memory of him is pretty much his regular grouchy self.

Either way, I will miss him more than I can adequately express.

When I was small I used to do a lot of creative writing. These days not so much, but sometimes I find the discipline of writing metre helps me order my thoughts and I'm going to put this out here because it makes clear a bit about the relationship I shared with that pony:

The Teacher

The teacher inclines his head
Assesses his student and the summer sky
His school is sand and grass and wood
His student slow, but they always try
And his work is never done
Because his student always has something more to learn
Errors shown and then forgiven;
Respect is not a gift, it must be earned.

The teacher turns his head
Surveys his student and the autumn sun.
They are trying to understand
Every lesson is the most important one.
So he puts them through his paces;
Educates them in braces and evasions.
He thinks that maybe they'll come good
With a little time and a lot of patience.

The teacher bows his head
Lays himself softly down on the winter ground.
If his student hasn't learned
He's left the answers where they can be found;
Because at last his work is done
Although his student begs him not to go
And he thinks that maybe they'll come good
he's taught them everything they need to know
Now the sun is shining weakly
Every lesson was a gift given and received
The teacher lays down his tired head
Closes his eyes and quietly leaves.

In the end there is little I can add to the last line describing Othello in Shakespeare's play.

Othello, Dales Pony, 1994-2007: He was great of heart

My heart is broken.

Comments

[glenatron.livejournal.com]

Thanks guys.

It's been weird cos I sort of got over things as much as I could when it happened but now being back and having to find his stuff and give it back to his owner and be back in the life where I belonged to him is very tough.