Today's one of those days where you wake up and instantly feel the weight of having something to mourn. We lost a family member yesterday--the grey Arabian whose name was Najah--and the reality of that's going to hurt for a while. Ed held his lead rope as the vet put him to sleep, granting him ease from some cause of acute kidney failure. By sunset, he was carefully tucked into his freshly dug grave, and I'd put a lock of his long white mane into a keepsake box with his picture on its lid. This will be my first morning to go to the barn and not see his beautiful and trusting face peering out from his stall. It's not every day that you know you'll need Kleenex, just to feed the horses.
We'll remember him as our most perfect horse (all 13.3 hands of him), the one who never did a single thing wrong, who never gave even the slightest cause for irritation or frustration, who was almost human in his ability to please and bond with those who looked after him. I'll always be grateful for the years he shared himself with us, and for the chance to have known such a special horse soul. Like Ace, my beloved gelding who rests beside him out in the pasture, Najah was a blessing beyond measure.
Now he gets to be our second equine angel. And we get to find a way to mend the new hole in our hearts.