Stormy the beautiful

This is a post about my beloved Stormy.

Stormy in the field

Stormy in the field


Lately I have been in agony. Not over Zil, but my first heart-bonded Arabian, Stormy, who in his late 20’s. He has lost all his appetite and is getting pathetically skinny as well as listless. My veterinarian prescribed furosemide which helped a little . . . he ate more and had more energy but I can’t afford to keep him on this expensive medication. He turns up his Arabian nose at beet pulp. He eats only a little of the soaked alfalfa cubes. He doesn’t even eat his senior feed. He just nibbles at his free choice hay, either in the safe confines of his stall or at the huge bale in the paddock.

In his stall at night when furosemide was started

He looks like a horse I would be horrified to see in a stranger’s field. He looks like a rescue horse that we would work hard to rehab. We have saved skinnier horses.  I take comfort in my attempts to make him comfortable. The frustration and helplessness are maddening, though.

I see the end coming. I can’t let him go on until he is in catabolism. I can’t see him suffer. Right now, though, his tail’s still a-swishin’ and his ears are pricked. He nickers when I come to him. When he’s done nibbling in the morning he wants OUT. He enjoys sleeping in the sun and eating sweet feed. He enjoys attention, being brushed, which is all he can manage. No longeing, and definitely no more riding.

Looking cute in winter paddock

Looking cute in winter paddock

From the above pic you can see how happy he is to be outside, and how interested and alert he is! ❤

I suppose you who have been in this position always wish you had ridden more, spent more time  . . . I hope I’m not alone in those feelings. They are a goad to my depression and alcoholism. I just hope to God I can tell when he tells me it is time. I’m pretty sure I will. I have no idea where to bury him.

Meanwhile, Zil is a fat pig and I have allowed her to become obnoxious under saddle.  I actually paid my daughter $10 to work with her on the trail because my confidence has dropped so low. I rode her mare, Zil’s gentle and trustworthy half-sister, Sunflower. My daughter , by age 16, had become an amazing horsewoman and trainer. Now she is 17! (I chose to pay her to ride Zil because she loves to ride her own horses and has never particularly been a fan of Zil. Until that day. They looked great together and both of them knew it!).

Now I am obsessed with Stormy and afraid, always, that I am not doing enough for him. I could leave him shut in his stall 24-7 so he will eat out of sheer boredom. But I let him out during several hours of the day because I believe his mental health is as important. I have to shut his stall, though, as he doesn’t have his own separate run and I don’t want the other horse getting into his stuff. He is happy to be let back in later in the afternoon.  Sometimes I go out the next morning and his alfalfa and senior feed are gone, which excites me to no end.

What has this to do with “healing horse?”

I don’t know because Stormy isn’t healing. He is the cause of a sense of responsibility that keeps me going though, even when I think I can’t move at all. For that, I am grateful.

Maybe someone out there can help with this. Depressed to begin with, and I am already saying goodbye to someone who is still here, not ready to go yet! My beautiful Stormy, I never felt worthy of you.

Under the apple tree

Under the apple tree


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