A last ride, a last time.

Decisions about life and death do not come easily.   My horse Kid turned 32 this year.  A lot about him is good.  He is sound. He eats well   But a lot is not.  His eyesight has failed to the point he has difficulty finding his way around.  A new pasture is an impossible voyage for him.  He has had some small strokes or neurological issues that cause him to constantly bob his head like one of those dolls that used to go on your dashboard of the car.  He is scared as the other horses pick on him and he cannot see them coming. I have owned this off-the-track Quarter horse for almost 12 wonderful years buying him from Sarah Petty when she retired him as a champion 1D barrel horse at age 20.  We had left our horses in Florida and he was our first Texas horse.  Sarah called him Texas Twister, an apt name for a barrel racing king. I credited Kid, and then Mickey (also from Sarah) with putting my little family of Ally, Lauren and I back on the track to life after a rough divorce and move from Florida.  Kid was Ally’s horse in the beginning.  She rode him well and often.  I went each day with her and Lauren to the barn where we were just had partial board to clean his stall, water and feed him.  We met new families.  We joined the world again and had a place to belong. Kid was the perfect quarter horse.  If you go to the AQHA site, their representation of a Quarter horse looks exactly like Kid.  His sorrel coat sang in the sun.  And as the versatile breed proclaims, there really wasn’t anything this horse couldn’t do. He blazed on the racetrack.  He went to National Team Penning finals, he could smoke a barrel pattern and when I asked him to be a jumper and an English horse he did that as well.

I had made the decision that it was time to let Kid go.  I especially did not want to try to move Kid to a new barn and pasture.  With his limited eyesight and all the pastures, it was not fair to him to move him from his home.

I tried to give him the best last day, full of treats, a good bath, extra Senior, and finally I saddled him up for one last ride.  He tacked up like a champ.  We simply walked around the arena and turned around a few barrels. I stopped him in the middle of the arena and gently said, “back”.  Immediately, with my hands quiet and still, Kid backed several steps.  What a guy!

This afternoon we took him to the vet. Of course, he loaded into the trailer without issue.

We got him settled in a stall.  I hugged and hugged him.  Lauren and I cried.  I hope he is now running in the green fields of heaven.  I will miss my beautiful boy so much.

Thank you for riding along and keep us in your prayers.

Mr. Kid 32 years young.