I have been wanting to write this blog for some time now but so far have not found the words. Last night as I was lying in bed in the dark struggling to get some sleep I realised it was something I needed to do, even if just to let other horse owners know they aren't alone.
I remember the day so clearly, I was 15 and had not long lived in Lincolnshire on our new livery yard. The yard was still pretty much a building site but we had high hopes and visions in our heads what we wanted it to look like.
It was a Sunday morning, early on in March and all the horses were itching to go out. My dads gorgeous 16.2hh palamino gelding, Bertie was always a sweetie for anyone. He'd stand whilst you groomed him, looked after you if you rode him and were slightly nervous. He adored my Dad and I and for those who are reading that and thinking "Don't be silly, you don't know that". I do. Bertie had character. For my Dad and I he was a superstar. Dad couldn't ride very well and I was still struggling with the aftermaths of my riding accident just a year before and for us both Bertie was a perfect gentleman. He is the horse I owe everything to, if it wasn't for him I never would have jumped again after my accident. I remember being 'made' to get on him just after having my pot taken off my arm and feeling so safe I just turned towards a jump that was up.
I remember that huge horse going so steady in to the big jump we were approaching and carefully lifting us both over. I remember the day my Dad and I hacked out with two women on our previous yard and me screaming at Dad to slow down as we galloped through the woods and my little 12.2hh bronked her way up. The smile on Dads face is one I'll never forget and the look of pure trust from both horse and rider is one that will stay with me forever. Bertie knew everytime he hit those woods he galloped. I remember telling Dad I was never hacking out with him again as he always just left me. I never stuck to my words and most weekends the four of us would get to the bottom of the woody hill, just look at each other and like a flash of lightening be at the top screaming how fantastic that was.
In the March our lives turned up side down and no one could have predicted what that day was to do to us all. Dad had tied Bertie up outside his stable and had got distracted whilst a friend came to look around the yard. Dad never tied Bertie up on a short rope as he swore blind "Bertie liked to move around and interact with the other horses". The decision that day was one that fills both my Dad and I with the same heart wrenching guilt every passing day.
It almost seemed to happen in slow motion and I am sure that is why to this day I can still see in my head exactly what happened. Everytime I vision it I just want to stop time and pull the lead-rope away from my gorgeous horse.
As I said, Bertie was tied up outside his stable and like any other day he was having a nosey round the floor and across the other stable. He must have got an itch on his face as he slowly lifted his back leg up and begun to itch his face with his hind hoof. All I could do was watch as his lead rope got stuck underneath his back leg and he fell to the floor. I didn't know what else to do apart from scream but Bertie got up, shook and acted like nothing happened. The relief that hit me that very moment was something I've never experienced before. He was okay. I checked him for lumps, bumps and any cuts. He had no evident injuries and Dad and I decided we would keep a close eye on him and if he seemed lame would get the vet.
Like usual, he went out in the field to play, came in at dinner time and ate all his dinner. The next day I had an entrance exam at a local girls school so I would be late turning them out. Due to this I gave everyone extra hay, Dad said his weekly goodbye to Bertie, told him he would see him next weekend as he works away during the week and we left.
The next day I arrived at the yard at roughly 11am and as I walked in to the barn I just knew. There was no usual sounds of horses eagerly awaiting to go out, no hooves impatiently banging the door showing their frustration in being in and as I walked down to Bertie's stable no one could have stopped me making the noise I made when I saw him. He was laying there, so peaceful looking but still. I ran and ran. I don't know where I was running to or why but I ran. I ran and I rang my dad. All I screamed was "He's died, Bertie's died". Dad sobbed and I put the phone down and rang the vet.
What seemed like eternity the vet arrived and told me there was nothing we could have done. Bertie must have damaged some internal organ when he fell and although he seemed okay it would have taken a while for his body to slowly shut down. The vet helped me cover him in his rugs and told my Mum we would need to arrange for someone to come and collect him.
Dad didn't want him moving until he had seen him, so that afternoon Dad arrived and just sat with him all night. He didn't move away from his best friend all night and it was only the next morning when Mum told him he couldn't stay there that we managed to make him move. We both kissed him once more, cut a handful of his tail and Dad left. I waited for the "Peaceful Pets" crematorium man to pick him up and just couldn't leave him. I had to be pulled away from him and all I could do was scream and cling on to his gorgeous, sweet, kind face that I would never be muzzled by again.
The man from peaceful pets was wonderful, he promised to fetch me when he had Bertie loaded in the horse trailer so I could say my last goodbyes. Dad had arranged for Bertie to be cremated alone so we could ensure we had just his ashes back. It cost a small fortune but we both owed this gentle, loving horse everything.
I wish I had never gone to say goodbye once he was loaded in the trailer. It was a sight I will never get out of my head. He didn't look like him and I remember just sobbing for days. Dad immediately went off horses and didn't touch another for months. I could have easily done the same but I knew I had to carry on for the other horses. They needed me, they knew what had happened. A few years back we had rescued a small 13h Palamino gelding by the name of Jelly. As soon as we got him, he and Bertie had been inseparable. It was almost when Bertie died the life in Jelly was sucked out of him. I knew I had to carry on for Jelly's sake and so I turned him out in the field with Ceaser and hoped he'd find a friend in him.
A few months later Bertie's ashes came back in a lovely box we'd picked out especially. The box didn't get taken out of the cardboard box it was wrapped in for about 2 years after that as both Dad nor I could bring ourselves to open it. My request to have his shoe taken off and sent with his ashes had been approved and to this day his shoe and box of ashes sits on our mantle piece in the farm house.
Slowly Dad began to become involved with the horses again and he attached himself to our 15.2h black ex racehorse, Amy. Amy was like Bertie in so many ways. She had the same kind, gentle and caring look about her that Bertie did.
In December of the year Bertie died Amy suddenly went down in her stable. I heard a bang and ran to investigate. Although she got up it took longer than usual and worryingly I got the vet out immediately.
Vets tests came back inconclusive. All they could find wrong was some liver damage and we began treating that. No explanation as to why she suddenly went down but the vets assured us it was nothing.
Amy went off her food and getting her to eat was a chore. Each night I'd sit on a stool, spoon feeding her bran mash with molasses in to try and entice her to eat. I lost count of the endless hours I spent mixing and spoon feeding her. The vets warned me if she didn't eat her organs would begin to shut down. I'd lost one of my best friends, I wasn't about to loose another so I sat with her until she ate.
The sound of her licking up her bran mash and molasses was the best sound in the world. I shouted for Dad who just showered her with kisses. At that moment we thought it would all be okay and we had our Amy back.
In January we were bringing Amy in from the field when suddenly she went down again, this time in the middle of the barn. We immediately rang the vets and were told to put a straw bedding around her, keep her warm and they would be on their way. Thankfully just 5 minutes before they arrived and an hour after she'd first gone down, she got up and looked at us all like we were bonkers. Probably wondering what all the fuss was about.
I knew deep down it was happening again. We were loosing another best friend. I told Dad I didn't think it was fair to make her struggle on like this. With the vets advice we gave her another chance and agreed if she went down once more and we couldn't get her up then we would have to consider doing the kindest thing and putting her to sleep.
We went through some really good months. The vets couldn't work out what was wrong with her so we just carried on treating Amy as we had done. She was now eating, walking and running around like normal and she had everyone baffled. We had a back person out to Amy to try and see what was wrong with her. He couldn't find anything wrong and promised us it was not her back.
When she went down no matter how hard we tried we couldn't get her up. We had people pushing her bum, one pulling her up but nothing worked. She just wouldn't, or couldn't get up. It was horrible to see and very upsetting. I was adamant this was happening because of what had happened to Bertie. It was someones way of punishing us and no matter how many times the vet told us to not feel guilty, I did.
The following March I was due to go and see x-factor live in Nottingham. Just before I was due to leave Amy went down in her stable and this time I knew it was bad. Dad told me to go and he would update me through the night. I would only be gone 4 hours and he promised he would sit with her. Half way through the concert I rang Dad and his words brought my world crashing down.
"Its time Sian". I begged him not to do anything until I was there and combined we made the decision he would sit with her until I got back and then I would take over and we would give her until the morning to get up. All night we tried everything to make her get up but slowly you could see she was giving in. The fight in her was going and I could tell she was tired.
At 8am that following morning I rang the vet. If Amy was going to get up she would have by now and the vet was on her way. I will always be thankful to the lovely vet who came out. Without her there I would have never have gotten through that dreadful day. She examined Amy and finally we had answers. Amy had become paralyised from the bum, down. We told the vet how she had been a racehorse in her younger years and she told us that it was most likely and old injury had caused this.
Questions in my head swirled round. Why had no one picked this up before? Why had the endless amounts of vets who had seen Amy before not realised this?
The lovely vet with her now said it is something that probably wouldn't have been detected until it struck. Unfortunately this was now and there was nothing we could do. Dad sobbed and offered all the money in the world to make her better. The vet told us the only thing we could do was some how keep her stood up but it would mean she wouldn't ever be allowed in the field, or out of her stable. What life would that be for a horse?
At that moment the hardest decision of our lives was to be made. We knew the kindest thing to do would to put Amy to sleep. I fed her all the carrots and treats we had as someone turned out the other horses for us. She neighed loudly as the others were turned out and she desperately tried to get up but just couldn't. It was heart breaking seeing her want to get up and the frustration in her face because she couldn't. My girl fought right until the end.
Together Dad and I decided we wanted the injection to be used and then Dad walked away. I couldn't leave my girl, so whilst the injection was administrated I held her head. The fight in her was gone then. She kicked her front foot out and I just held onto her head tighter and tighter until the vet told me it was time for me to leave.
What seemed like eternity I was called back and both Dad and I were told she was gone. We clung to one another and that was only one of two moments we've hugged and cried together.
I was only 16 yet in the past year I lost two of my best friends. I made that decision to have her put to sleep as Dad simply couldn't. I often think back now, what if I'd let her live, would she have gotten better, would she have been okay?
For weeks after I rang the vet who put her to sleep. She had kindly given me her mobile number and told me to text or ring anytime I had questions. I spent endless hours on the phone to her questioning what had happened and slowly I begun to realise that Amy couldn't have lived a good life if we had kept her alive. It wouldn't have been fair. But to me what had happened wasn't fair.
Two years later out of curiosity I flicked through the Ad-Mag horse classified section with Dad and we intriguingly rang a number asking about a horse for sale. I don't even know why we were ringing but something that day made us ring and on the day Dad went to view the horse I got a phone call.
"I went to look at the horse, but as I walked through the barn I saw another. Sian he looks just like Bertie and Amy combined. Its unbelievable, you have to see him." exclaimed my Dad.
So, not really knowing what I was doing or where I was going I drove the 2 and a half hours to go and see this mystery horse that wasn't even for sale. As I walked up to him I knew exactly what dad meant. This horse sniffed my hands inquisitively and I saw the same look in his eye I saw in Bertie's and Amy's. I saw the kindness in his eyes, the sweet face. It sounds stupid but I saw my two best friends I'd lost.
Somehow Dad managed to convince this man to sell his best hunting horse, one that he said he'd never sell. I don't know how he did it but when I went to view him the seller was adamant he wouldn't let him go.
"Khalisa" arrived with no name and only his racing name to go by. "Lay the Cash". Dad decided he would name him after the horse he rode in Malta whilst we were on holiday. Khalisa in Malta was the only horse Dad ever got on after Bertie and Amy died. He never rode another horse and told us he never wanted to, but for some reason this small chestnut gelding attracted dad whilst on holiday and not so long after we had our own chestnut Khalisa at home.
Khalisa has proved to be difficult but if I'm honest he hasn't done anything Bertie didn't do when we owned him. If you could ride and Bertie knew it he would be so naughty for you. Yet when I got on he was the sweetest thing. Khalisa reminds me so much of Bertie when being ridden and Amy when you're in his stable.
Something made Dad buy Khalisa and I am sure one day he will find the guts to get back on. For now Khalisa is on loan at our yard and Dad just enjoys spending time with him on the ground. For those who ask why don't we sell Khalisa as he is clearly too much for Dad will never understand the real reason we have him.
I still have dreams that Bertie is galloping towards me in fields yet never quite reaches me. I don't know what this means and wish I did.
This is dedicated to my two best friends who are gone but never forgotten. On the anniversary of the month we lost you both I wanted to do something to ensure it was still clear I thought about you both.
Both Bertie's and Amy's ashes now sit in boxes either side of the fire place in the farm house. None horsey people that come round think we're mad having too relatively big wooden boxes just sat there but we know why.
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I remember the day so clearly, I was 15 and had not long lived in Lincolnshire on our new livery yard. The yard was still pretty much a building site but we had high hopes and visions in our heads what we wanted it to look like.
It was a Sunday morning, early on in March and all the horses were itching to go out. My dads gorgeous 16.2hh palamino gelding, Bertie was always a sweetie for anyone. He'd stand whilst you groomed him, looked after you if you rode him and were slightly nervous. He adored my Dad and I and for those who are reading that and thinking "Don't be silly, you don't know that". I do. Bertie had character. For my Dad and I he was a superstar. Dad couldn't ride very well and I was still struggling with the aftermaths of my riding accident just a year before and for us both Bertie was a perfect gentleman. He is the horse I owe everything to, if it wasn't for him I never would have jumped again after my accident. I remember being 'made' to get on him just after having my pot taken off my arm and feeling so safe I just turned towards a jump that was up.
I remember that huge horse going so steady in to the big jump we were approaching and carefully lifting us both over. I remember the day my Dad and I hacked out with two women on our previous yard and me screaming at Dad to slow down as we galloped through the woods and my little 12.2hh bronked her way up. The smile on Dads face is one I'll never forget and the look of pure trust from both horse and rider is one that will stay with me forever. Bertie knew everytime he hit those woods he galloped. I remember telling Dad I was never hacking out with him again as he always just left me. I never stuck to my words and most weekends the four of us would get to the bottom of the woody hill, just look at each other and like a flash of lightening be at the top screaming how fantastic that was.In the March our lives turned up side down and no one could have predicted what that day was to do to us all. Dad had tied Bertie up outside his stable and had got distracted whilst a friend came to look around the yard. Dad never tied Bertie up on a short rope as he swore blind "Bertie liked to move around and interact with the other horses". The decision that day was one that fills both my Dad and I with the same heart wrenching guilt every passing day.
It almost seemed to happen in slow motion and I am sure that is why to this day I can still see in my head exactly what happened. Everytime I vision it I just want to stop time and pull the lead-rope away from my gorgeous horse.
As I said, Bertie was tied up outside his stable and like any other day he was having a nosey round the floor and across the other stable. He must have got an itch on his face as he slowly lifted his back leg up and begun to itch his face with his hind hoof. All I could do was watch as his lead rope got stuck underneath his back leg and he fell to the floor. I didn't know what else to do apart from scream but Bertie got up, shook and acted like nothing happened. The relief that hit me that very moment was something I've never experienced before. He was okay. I checked him for lumps, bumps and any cuts. He had no evident injuries and Dad and I decided we would keep a close eye on him and if he seemed lame would get the vet.
Like usual, he went out in the field to play, came in at dinner time and ate all his dinner. The next day I had an entrance exam at a local girls school so I would be late turning them out. Due to this I gave everyone extra hay, Dad said his weekly goodbye to Bertie, told him he would see him next weekend as he works away during the week and we left.The next day I arrived at the yard at roughly 11am and as I walked in to the barn I just knew. There was no usual sounds of horses eagerly awaiting to go out, no hooves impatiently banging the door showing their frustration in being in and as I walked down to Bertie's stable no one could have stopped me making the noise I made when I saw him. He was laying there, so peaceful looking but still. I ran and ran. I don't know where I was running to or why but I ran. I ran and I rang my dad. All I screamed was "He's died, Bertie's died". Dad sobbed and I put the phone down and rang the vet.
Dad didn't want him moving until he had seen him, so that afternoon Dad arrived and just sat with him all night. He didn't move away from his best friend all night and it was only the next morning when Mum told him he couldn't stay there that we managed to make him move. We both kissed him once more, cut a handful of his tail and Dad left. I waited for the "Peaceful Pets" crematorium man to pick him up and just couldn't leave him. I had to be pulled away from him and all I could do was scream and cling on to his gorgeous, sweet, kind face that I would never be muzzled by again.
The man from peaceful pets was wonderful, he promised to fetch me when he had Bertie loaded in the horse trailer so I could say my last goodbyes. Dad had arranged for Bertie to be cremated alone so we could ensure we had just his ashes back. It cost a small fortune but we both owed this gentle, loving horse everything.I wish I had never gone to say goodbye once he was loaded in the trailer. It was a sight I will never get out of my head. He didn't look like him and I remember just sobbing for days. Dad immediately went off horses and didn't touch another for months. I could have easily done the same but I knew I had to carry on for the other horses. They needed me, they knew what had happened. A few years back we had rescued a small 13h Palamino gelding by the name of Jelly. As soon as we got him, he and Bertie had been inseparable. It was almost when Bertie died the life in Jelly was sucked out of him. I knew I had to carry on for Jelly's sake and so I turned him out in the field with Ceaser and hoped he'd find a friend in him.
A few months later Bertie's ashes came back in a lovely box we'd picked out especially. The box didn't get taken out of the cardboard box it was wrapped in for about 2 years after that as both Dad nor I could bring ourselves to open it. My request to have his shoe taken off and sent with his ashes had been approved and to this day his shoe and box of ashes sits on our mantle piece in the farm house.
Vets tests came back inconclusive. All they could find wrong was some liver damage and we began treating that. No explanation as to why she suddenly went down but the vets assured us it was nothing.
The sound of her licking up her bran mash and molasses was the best sound in the world. I shouted for Dad who just showered her with kisses. At that moment we thought it would all be okay and we had our Amy back.
In January we were bringing Amy in from the field when suddenly she went down again, this time in the middle of the barn. We immediately rang the vets and were told to put a straw bedding around her, keep her warm and they would be on their way. Thankfully just 5 minutes before they arrived and an hour after she'd first gone down, she got up and looked at us all like we were bonkers. Probably wondering what all the fuss was about.
I knew deep down it was happening again. We were loosing another best friend. I told Dad I didn't think it was fair to make her struggle on like this. With the vets advice we gave her another chance and agreed if she went down once more and we couldn't get her up then we would have to consider doing the kindest thing and putting her to sleep.
We went through some really good months. The vets couldn't work out what was wrong with her so we just carried on treating Amy as we had done. She was now eating, walking and running around like normal and she had everyone baffled. We had a back person out to Amy to try and see what was wrong with her. He couldn't find anything wrong and promised us it was not her back.When she went down no matter how hard we tried we couldn't get her up. We had people pushing her bum, one pulling her up but nothing worked. She just wouldn't, or couldn't get up. It was horrible to see and very upsetting. I was adamant this was happening because of what had happened to Bertie. It was someones way of punishing us and no matter how many times the vet told us to not feel guilty, I did.
The following March I was due to go and see x-factor live in Nottingham. Just before I was due to leave Amy went down in her stable and this time I knew it was bad. Dad told me to go and he would update me through the night. I would only be gone 4 hours and he promised he would sit with her. Half way through the concert I rang Dad and his words brought my world crashing down.
At 8am that following morning I rang the vet. If Amy was going to get up she would have by now and the vet was on her way. I will always be thankful to the lovely vet who came out. Without her there I would have never have gotten through that dreadful day. She examined Amy and finally we had answers. Amy had become paralyised from the bum, down. We told the vet how she had been a racehorse in her younger years and she told us that it was most likely and old injury had caused this.
Questions in my head swirled round. Why had no one picked this up before? Why had the endless amounts of vets who had seen Amy before not realised this?
The lovely vet with her now said it is something that probably wouldn't have been detected until it struck. Unfortunately this was now and there was nothing we could do. Dad sobbed and offered all the money in the world to make her better. The vet told us the only thing we could do was some how keep her stood up but it would mean she wouldn't ever be allowed in the field, or out of her stable. What life would that be for a horse?
At that moment the hardest decision of our lives was to be made. We knew the kindest thing to do would to put Amy to sleep. I fed her all the carrots and treats we had as someone turned out the other horses for us. She neighed loudly as the others were turned out and she desperately tried to get up but just couldn't. It was heart breaking seeing her want to get up and the frustration in her face because she couldn't. My girl fought right until the end.Together Dad and I decided we wanted the injection to be used and then Dad walked away. I couldn't leave my girl, so whilst the injection was administrated I held her head. The fight in her was gone then. She kicked her front foot out and I just held onto her head tighter and tighter until the vet told me it was time for me to leave.
What seemed like eternity I was called back and both Dad and I were told she was gone. We clung to one another and that was only one of two moments we've hugged and cried together.
I was only 16 yet in the past year I lost two of my best friends. I made that decision to have her put to sleep as Dad simply couldn't. I often think back now, what if I'd let her live, would she have gotten better, would she have been okay?
For weeks after I rang the vet who put her to sleep. She had kindly given me her mobile number and told me to text or ring anytime I had questions. I spent endless hours on the phone to her questioning what had happened and slowly I begun to realise that Amy couldn't have lived a good life if we had kept her alive. It wouldn't have been fair. But to me what had happened wasn't fair.
Two years later out of curiosity I flicked through the Ad-Mag horse classified section with Dad and we intriguingly rang a number asking about a horse for sale. I don't even know why we were ringing but something that day made us ring and on the day Dad went to view the horse I got a phone call.
"I went to look at the horse, but as I walked through the barn I saw another. Sian he looks just like Bertie and Amy combined. Its unbelievable, you have to see him." exclaimed my Dad.
So, not really knowing what I was doing or where I was going I drove the 2 and a half hours to go and see this mystery horse that wasn't even for sale. As I walked up to him I knew exactly what dad meant. This horse sniffed my hands inquisitively and I saw the same look in his eye I saw in Bertie's and Amy's. I saw the kindness in his eyes, the sweet face. It sounds stupid but I saw my two best friends I'd lost.Somehow Dad managed to convince this man to sell his best hunting horse, one that he said he'd never sell. I don't know how he did it but when I went to view him the seller was adamant he wouldn't let him go.
"Khalisa" arrived with no name and only his racing name to go by. "Lay the Cash". Dad decided he would name him after the horse he rode in Malta whilst we were on holiday. Khalisa in Malta was the only horse Dad ever got on after Bertie and Amy died. He never rode another horse and told us he never wanted to, but for some reason this small chestnut gelding attracted dad whilst on holiday and not so long after we had our own chestnut Khalisa at home.
Khalisa has proved to be difficult but if I'm honest he hasn't done anything Bertie didn't do when we owned him. If you could ride and Bertie knew it he would be so naughty for you. Yet when I got on he was the sweetest thing. Khalisa reminds me so much of Bertie when being ridden and Amy when you're in his stable.
Something made Dad buy Khalisa and I am sure one day he will find the guts to get back on. For now Khalisa is on loan at our yard and Dad just enjoys spending time with him on the ground. For those who ask why don't we sell Khalisa as he is clearly too much for Dad will never understand the real reason we have him.I still have dreams that Bertie is galloping towards me in fields yet never quite reaches me. I don't know what this means and wish I did.
This is dedicated to my two best friends who are gone but never forgotten. On the anniversary of the month we lost you both I wanted to do something to ensure it was still clear I thought about you both.
Both Bertie's and Amy's ashes now sit in boxes either side of the fire place in the farm house. None horsey people that come round think we're mad having too relatively big wooden boxes just sat there but we know why.
To my darlings, Bertie and Amy.
7 and 6 years on and we still miss you.
7 and 6 years on and we still miss you.
