Hi, first let me say that this is a great place! I've learned so much just reading the posts and I can really sympathize with a lot of the folks here. It's devastating to lose a beloved animal.

I was directed to this site as a coursework exercise in my veterinary technician studies. As I've read the posts here, it's really gotten my mind on my dear Spud. I lost him last year. Spud wasn't your usual companion animal, he was the horse of my dreams. The horse I had prayed for since I was old enough to say "horsie". I'd never owned a horse of my own till him. My dad had horses, but I wasn't allowed to ride, he was afraid I'd get hurt. Later on, after my dad passed away, mom got me weekly lessons in an effort to "shut me up" about buying one. Between riding lessons and borrowed horses, I got injured- a lot. The last big injury was a lesson horse that ran away, and came to a sliding stop in front of a board fence. I got thrown through the extremely well-built fence. It was years before I'd even take a second look at a horse. As the old adage goes, time does heal all wounds, and in the year 2000, I saw a classified ad for an appaloosa gelding. Talked the husband into going to see him. When I pulled up to that pasture it was love at first sight. This beautiful, blue roan, regal, and kitten-gentle animal comes right over to me and sticks his nose right in my chest as if to say "what took you so long?"
Of course he was an instant member of the family. He taught me how to ride again, how to love again, and how to have a sense of humor again! I was told when I bought him that he was 15 , but when he was seen by my vet, she said he was closer to 20 -25. But I didn't care, that spunky little horse carried me over hill and dale, on wagon trains and organized trail rides, we went to horsemanship clinics and even some fun shows. All the things just a few years earlier I never ever thought I'd be able to do. He kept me humble by throwing a buck every time I would ask for more than he was willing to give, and when I thought I was a good hand at tying knots, he'd make sure he showed everyone his " oh I can untie anything" trick. As the years passed, he got slower, and in 2008 I told him we weren't going to ride anymore. I think he was disappointed for a while, but he made sure I still got plenty of exercise by showing me his "I got out of the fence but you'll never know where" trick. He stayed a pasture pet until June of last year.
By this time he'd developed a sway back, and it was taking him a while to come in at feeding time. Sometimes even though my pasture is small, he'd act like he was lost. But he was getting around fine, and even though he was starting to lose his teeth, I was feeding him soup and supplements to keep his weight up. Then I go to the barn that last terrible day to feed, on a Sunday. He looked like he'd lost all feeling on one side, he was dragging his feet, and in danger of falling down. My regular vet isn't open on Sunday, and an emergency call from the other vet would have taken hours due to our rural location. So the decision was made that we would euthanize him the old fashioned way. He's buried in my pasture in the spot we used to stand and lean on each other for hours and just rest. I never really had a chance to grieve, the husband brought home another animal a couple of days later, kind of shoved it in my lap and said "here, take care of this" and sadly, I resented that animal. I know it wasn't fair to that poor thing, it hadn't done anything to me, but there was no way I was ready for anything like that. I feel really guilty because I didn't keep it, but I needed that time to try to grieve. It took me a couple of months to rehome it, and I feel like I never got to grieve properly because of that situation. I miss my boy. I miss the way he smelled, like hay and sunshine. I miss the way he wasn't afraid of chainsaws or lawnmowers even though people tried to scare him with them. I miss the way he would give small kids hugs and let them stand under him and scratch his belly, even though I told those kids a thousand times to stay out of my pasture. I miss that the only time we argued was fly spray time. I miss the way he would bring his food bowl to me if I was late for feeding time. I miss those naps under the apple tree, where we would lay back to back. I miss the way he tried to nip the horseshoe man in the hind end just to keep him on his toes. I miss looking out my window and seeing him out there grazing happily.

Thanks for reading everyone, Spud's been the hardest loss I've had in years. I needed to get that out. I'm handling his loss, but it's still one day at a time. This is a big step though!

Oh Melissa

Give that vet school instructor who directed you a big THANK YOU! You have come to the best support group on the net - I've tried a few for other reasons. Melissa, you are one of the extremely lucky people on this earth to have been found and love by you soul-mate animal. Some native Americans call them spirit-animals. Theyhave carried a part of your soul from all eternity and you have carried a part of theirs. These unbelieveable animals search the universe over to find the "piece of their hearts." Out of all the billions of people on earth, they FIND their one-and-only, and then, even more un believeable, put themselves in our path so WE will find THEM. That's what Spud was telling you when he nudged you and asked, "What took you so long?" The instant rush of love between the two of you confirmed it.

All through your earthly lives together, you could understand what the other was saying and feeling. Why not? You two are parts of one being. Our spirit-animals love us with a love unlike any other - they watch over us, they guide our steps, they teach us so many life lessons - and then our love is put to the ultimate test. Whoever made the universe decided that animals' life spans would be shorter than ours (except for parrots and turtles!!). That means we will have to show them the ultimate gift of love - setting them free from pain. And we have to do this with our eyes open - we KNOW how much heartbreak is on store for us (or if we don't we're about to find out!). And you stepped up, lookd Spud in the eye and told him it was OK to go back to the Perfect World from whcih he came. That, no matter how your heart was breaking, you wanted what was best for HIM - you love him enough to set him free from pain and suffering. Love like that nveer diminishes or dies. It only grows stronger. And your heart comes out as pure gold - which has to be purified in some VERY hot fires.

Melissa, you will be the best vet ever! I'm going to take the liberty of sending you a personal message withe the name and contact information about my vet - THE best vet who ever lived. If you ever want to talk to him about animals, vet school or life, He'll be delighted. In your futue practice, I'm sure you will have to try to console people who have strong religious beliefs and part of whose grief is the question, "Will I ever see him/her again?" And they, like me, will feel real doubts and sadness at the reality for them that they cannot live without the belief that they WILL be reunited with their soul-mate in "another world." I've recently read a book, "Will I See You in Heaven?" (or it could be "I Will See You In Heaven.") It's written by a Catholic Fransciscan monk and it's filled with loving and gentle "proofs" from scripture and from the lives of a couple of saints that, yes, you WILL see your beloved in heaven. Someday this little book may be a hellp to people whose beloved animals leave them alone for a while on earth.

Melissa, Spud is in the Perfect World, where the pastures are always sweet green grass, there's plenty of cool shade and water, and plenty of pastures to run in and friends to run with. He's on his job - AND - he's right there beside you at the same time. (Spirits can do that!)

I admire you also for taking the time to realize that the new horse was way too soon for your heart to be fair to him and for taking the time to find him his forever home.

You're a gem. Your patients will truly be fortunate people.

Gretta's mom

Hi, melissa, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Spud. Losing a companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company. Euthanasia is the last gift of love we can give to our companions at great sacrifice to ourselves so that they can be restored to their former youthfulness in the company of the angels.

Melissa, clinical professionals recognize that the grief adjustment journey for beloved companions is identical to the physical loss of a human family member or friend. The first year of grief is universally recognized as the hardest because it is filled with all the "first withouts" - - the first hour, the first day, the first month, the first birthday, the first anniversary, the first vacation -- and on and on and on. But just because the calendar indicates the "first angel-versary" has come does not mean the feelings of loss and emptiness automatically disappear never to be felt again. Even 20 years down the road you may be thinking of your beloved Spud and you may find a mist come to your eyes and feel a lump come up in your throat, even through the happiness that is filling your heart recalling your memories of your earthly journey together.

As Gretta's Mom has so comfortingly reassured you in her message to you, so I wish to affirm her words of wisdom: The good news in the course of your grief adjustment journey is that the love bond you and your beloved Spud share is eternal. It is not restricted to the physical laws of time and space. Your beloved Spud's sweet Living Spirit continues to share your earthly journey just as he always has and always will. He is forever a part of you, melissa - - he is forever in your heart and your memories, and nothing in heaven or on earth - - not even the passage of time - - can ever take this away from you. He is forever a heartbeat close to you.

It takes a very compassionate heart to be able to take care of the companion animals - - of all sizes and life forms - - as well as their human caregivers. I wish you the very best in your studies as a vet tech, and would enjoy knowing how things go for you.

Thank you so very much for sharing your beloved Spud with us, melissa. Please know you are among friends here who truly do understand what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us. There are no expiration dates here to share with us what is in your heart and on your mind - - whatever you feel comfortable sharing. Perhaps sometime you would like to share a picture(s) of your beloved Spud with us - - but only when / if you would like to. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, melissa, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam