A GOOD DEATH

And Happy Endings

There is so much clenching tension before it comes. “I just want to do a good job for them; to make sure they know the way and that it’s the right thing,” is a mantra that repeats and repeats in your head before the time comes. You want to make sure that they will be free, and untangled, just like the way we want births to happen.  My dog, Jerome, and my old horse, Norman passed last week. Both were vet-assisited euthanasia. I held them as they went. If you follow me you know this already. 

Jerome smiled a little and relaxed back into his facial expressions that I recognized. I was so glad and relieved to see him one last time. “You can let go, sweetheart.” I whispered. The last couple days of his life he was a bit trapped in his body. Vets don’t come on the weekend. It was as though his body was trying to evict him. “GET OUT ALREADY!” He and his body were at odds. He had no illnesses he was just basically, comically old. As long as he was mobile, pain free and excited about dinner time I was ok with his blindness and deafness and occasional pooping and peeing on the floor. But then one day he just wasn’t Jerome anymore, I was shocked at how quickly it was so after his very long decline. Now he was comfortable and his ears cocked into their normal position. My boy. He was the soul, who, when I was at my most depressed in the 2010’s was there to cuddle up and sleep with me every night without fail. He was a nervous guy, but no less affectionate or hilarious for it. He loved snow, treats, mud, playing with puppies and sleeping behind things in the tightest crevices he could find, when not sitting very close to you that is… My friend Beth dubbed him “The Anvil” as he could make himself so physically dense! I swear I have a dent in my ribs from that kid… he will be missed by many people who loved him. 

Norman was more difficult. Our dynamic was different. I was his herd leader and caretaker, but he was so intelligent he could never have been considered a “pet” or sports equipment or an “other.” Not that I would have wanted a relationship resembling any of those choices with him. The evolutionary bond we share is more tenuous, but more sacred. For all the cruel things horses are subjected to they should have been killing us day one, yet they are not wired that way. There are some horses that go rogue and attack people but they are few and far between. 99.9% of accidents and injuries related to horses are human negligence and error. Horses are more akin to elephants and orcas. Intelligent, social creatures that depend on a great deal of movement and variety for their physical and mental wellbeing. They have deep bonds with their herd mates (and sometimes their people) and their communication is subtle, but sometimes brutal and quite beautiful to observe. They play, they fight, they problem solve, they groom each other and have excellent senses or humor when given the freedom and encouragement and space to be themselves. He was a touchstone of calm. How will life be without him? I have no choice but to find out. Thanks to him I can set down my anxiety and wade into it. I am open and resigned. It’s the only shape grief will tolerate to get through it.

I still see him in the grass of the meadow, lying on his side, at peace. His gray hair covering his black skin at the seam along his belly. Strands of his mane and tail held up by the grass along the edges. His form surrounded by Queen Ann’s Lace, bedstraw, black eyed Susans, and lucious clumps of goldenrod, many of which contained a big tigery garden spider of a similar yellow-orange hue. He was witnessed and accepted by his favorite spot. It was so very beautiful. He looked like a viking there in that meadow where he spent a great deal of his fourteen years with me. My dear friends Michelle and Doug came to witness him as well as my exceptional, kind neighbor, Allen who stood by with the backhoe to bury him. Then there was my fantastic vet who was weeping openly, and of course, ManFriendJeff and my other horse, Boon. It’s important for horses so bonded to know what is happening to each other so they understand. As I said, horses are incredibly intelligent… I knelt over Norm’s massive head and told him how much I loved him and thanked him for being the great teacher he was. I was not crying, yet giant, heavy drops fell from me and thudded onto his beautiful face. I tenderly removed his halter. It was all ok. He was no longer struggling to breathe from the asthma he had developed in the past month. Michelle handed me Boon’s lead. Boon came up to Norm’s body and sniffed curiously a few times. He then lifted his head and called out to Norman. We all lost it and cried together. Had Boon seen him go? I hope he did. It’s been a week since his death and he still seems present somehow. 

The vet exited the scene to give us time. We all said our goodbyes and walked away from Norm’s body, leaving the burying to Allen who was kind and gentle and skilled enough to do such a thing as move a 1500 pound horse’s body into a deep hole with a backhoe, as one would tenderly place a baby in a crib. I knew it would likely be incident free, but that was not the last thing I wanted to remember about my sweetheart. We comforted Boon who was slightly confused. My heart was broken much more for him than for myself. That night he called out to Norman intermittently. It stung every time. The one thing that made this bearable is that I had known Norm was nearing his time for a while. He had Cushings, Cancer, Arthritis and now Asthma. Medication had made his life very good and pretty much normal until the asthma. I had made a plan with Michelle and Doug that I would board Boon at their farm to be with their four mares. He would not be alone. I am so grateful to Michelle and Doug for making a loving space for him amongst their herd. 

Boon stayed home for four days before we were to move him. A kind neighbor who I’d known about for a long time but never met named Eli had graciously agreed via Michelle to trailer him over. Boon was still his sweet self, but dulled a bit in the days that followed. Thankfully Sunday came pretty quick. It was another gorgeous summer morning as I walked Boon down the driveway. He loaded onto the trailer without balking. Boon is ever the good boy… As we bumped along the flood damaged roads, Michelle and I all crammed into sweet Eli’s truck I felt a little anticipation for Boon. There were such exciting new things to experience. Eli brought him off the trailer and handed him to me. Boon’s huge blue eyes blinked as he took in his new surroundings. He wasn’t nervous at all. I was so relieved. He was curious and eager to check things out. We were all thrilled that he was calm and interested. We put him in a paddock next to the mares. They were all beside themselves to sniff this new horse! Striking and squealing commenced. Boon was not deterred. After a while we let him out with the girls. He was a total gentleman and clearly delighted to be with other horses. He ran around and literally kicked his heels up for joy. I know all of Michelle’s horses pretty well, and I thought about all their different, lovely, complex personalities and how thrilling it would be for Boon to learn the ways of this new herd. His mind and heart would be busy and engaged. MY heart was full. We walked along in the giant pasture observing all their behaviors. It was what we expected; bluffing, whinnying, chasing, ears pinned back, extreme curiosity and new joy. Boon ate the new grass with relish. He was home. 

Over the next few days when I would visit him he was calm and very happy. Heavy weights fell away from my shoulders. Michelle would send me photos and videos on the hour of his progress when I wasn’t there. He looked like he had lived there for years! They gave me great joy. The mares are quickly accepting him and he wants for nothing. What incredible friends. I am so utterly grateful for them. 

Death is hard, but it is also a happy ending sometimes. A happy one for Boon, which means a happy one for me. Jerome and Norman were huge parts of my life and they will never leave me. I feel even tighter with my community than I already did, which was pretty tight to begin with, but some things transcend and take you to a new level. This was a level I desperately needed as I haven’t felt at “home” since my place burned in 2017. This feeling of home via community has made me shed some of that grief and anxiety. Thank you, Norman and Jerome. And thank you to my beautiful neighbors. 

Below is a great movie and photo by Michelle. Boon and I revel in his new adventure as he runs out to join his new herd.