Good Night, Sweet Prince

Monday was a very sad day for all of us out at Blue Wave Stable.We lost the wonderful Friesian named Black, who I just wrote about a couple of weeks ago, to colic. It happened so fast, it's hard to believe, and it's taken me a couple of days to be able to even think about for more than a few minutes without melting into an ugly cry.

I know I talk, on here and in real life, about how Skye is the prettiest horse there is, but even I recognize that there are some horses who stop everyone in their tracks. Black was one of those. He was the big black horse that people think of when they hear those words, large as most Friesians are, probably at least 17 hands, and so black he seemed more solidly in the world than other horses. He was so beautifully put together that a sculptor making the ideal horse couldn't have done it better. I see horses all the time, yet whenever I dealt with Black, I'd be amazed at him. He was that beautiful.

Here he is. He's the one getting the pets, as he was clearly the boss of
these two. I called them the Incredibles.

Erin rescued him from a life that had been spent for seven long years in a stall. I don't know the details, but I believe his owner had loved him and cared for him at one time, but had a back injury and let him languish while she keep thinking she would recover. She finally called Erin, who went and got him, and you could tell Black never forgot it. If you were standing with him and he heard her voice, he'd turn toward it, looking for her. In recent months, Erin had restricted who could ride him and started riding him more herself, for her own pleasure for a change. You could tell he loved getting more time with her, as he dropped some of his normally regal reserve even when she wasn't around.

He'd always been a little aloof with me, which is unusual since most animals, dogs and horses especially, have my number in a matter of seconds. But the evening he knocked down the rails in the round pen he showed me his mischievous side, and I was utterly charmed by him from then on, and he definitely knew it. I'm glad I have helped out feeding as much as I have lately, as I would go out of my way to try to get him or put him back just to be in his presence. Those few encounters are so precious to me now.

Up close and personal. You can see the mischief here.

He was a blast to ride as well, smart and well-trained, but you had to keep alert because if he sensed you would not control him, he would have his way with you. He was so naturally good natured this generally meant turning in to the middle of the ring instead of staying on the rail, but you knew you weren't on a pushover, so when he did what you asked, you knew you had accomplished something.

Apparently he was found rolling and obviously in pain on Friday and despite repeated visits to the vet, mineral oil treatments, fluids and the best care they could give him, he developed an impaction that would not budge. He was not a good candidate for surgery as he was 20 years old, and so when he was in pain, they put him down on Monday to spare him.

A horse would be hard-pressed to have had  a happier life than he has in the last few years, leading a laid back existence as the king of his own little herd, and respected and adored by a horde of people, but it still seems so unfair.

About a month ago, Erin led a trail ride on him, and as she was coming by, she rode by the barn on him. She was smiling, and he was stepping out beautifully. It was such a lovely picture of a woman and her horse enjoying each other. I am keeping that picture in my mind, even as I cry thinking about the loss.

It was privilege to know him, I just wish my acquaintance could have lasted so much longer.

A prince among horses.