It was some years ago, now, that my horse and I rode past the Harmony Barn paddock and I noticed the three old geldings standing motionless in the corner. It was a warm summer day, and they did little more than stand companionably together as if waiting for something to happen. Perhaps they weren’t even waiting. Perhaps they just were. Who can say? I remember remarking to Bit at the time,
“You’ll be one of them one day.”
No, Kelly, I’ll always be me, he replied. His logic was flawless, even if he had missed my point, which was that ‘one day, you’ll be old, too.’
More and more, these days, I’m aware that Bit is, indeed, becoming one of them: when I go to the stable, I often find him standing motionless in a corner of the arena. I know that he’s still capable of a decent canter, but I haven’t asked him for it for several years; I no longer trust his ability to stay on all four feet at that speed, what with his EPM. Nowadays, we walk mostly, and trot less and less.
It’s at this time of year that Bit’s EPM comes to the fore. He trips frequently, stumbling over things real and unreal, seen and unseen. He feels under the weather for days on end. And it continues through all the beautiful fall days – when a ride would be just the thing, and decreases as winter settles in – when riding in the cold is the last thing either of us wants to do. And the older he gets, the more pronounced the symptoms become. Stable owner Wendy increases his dose of natural supplements, to get him through these difficult days, but he still feels poorly often enough that I can barely talk him into standing in the cross ties for little more than a good grooming. I’ve tried giving him a massage, but he doesn’t seem terribly keen on it. So I extend the grooming for as long as possible, if for no other reason than it’s the only other thing we can do when he doesn’t feel up to being ridden.
As I work the tangles out of his mane and tail, I remind him that chicks dig a sharp-dressed man, and I assure him that they’ll take one look at his mane blowing in the breeze and say, I want to be Bit’s girl! He’s got the prettiest mane! You have to imagine me using a falsetto as I say those words. I don’t know whether mares actually use a falsetto when they speak, but Bit has yet to correct me so I think I’m on the right path.
I take time, as well, to remind him that he’s a First Place, Blue Ribbon, Champion Horse, and I sing my Bit song for him: “He’s the best horse, the very best horse, Bit’s the best horse in the whole wide world!” He seems pleased to be reminded of his Champion status, and I swear that he enjoys looking at the rosettes that adorn his box door. I remind him, too, how he won them: “This one was for when you did the Wedding Trot at my wedding – and a fine job you did, that day! This one is for excellence in trail riding. That one there is for being brave when the UPS van comes to the stable.” You get the idea.
Because of that pesky EPM, Bit’s never “legitimately” won a rosette for anything, but as my trusty steed, he’s won plenty for all sorts of things that don’t happen in an arena. Occasionally, I go on Ebay and find old rosettes for sale. I buy them and tack them to Bit’s box door. People at the stable think I’m weird for doing it, but so what? If it makes Bit happy, then I’m happy, too.
Sometimes, in a futile attempt to prepare myself for the inevitable, I try to imagine how life will be when Bit’s gone. There will no doubt be other horses, but, as with cats and dogs and pets of all flavors, things will never be the same. How could they possibly, when the source of that aspect of life is gone? I remind myself yet again to enjoy what time there is now, today, tomorrow, next week – whatever amount we have left together. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to see my best boy, my First Place, Blue Ribbon, Champion Horse.