Three hours of Skyping with Nolan this morning and ninety-five minutes of the vet's time and I am now broke and we are hospicing a beautiful older-than-I-thought horse, but not for long.
(I had just decided I would be the headless horsewoman for Hallowe'en, too. Flaming pumpkin and all.)
There are worse places to be if you're in your final days. Caleb remarked that I should have stayed out of it instead of being all upset over the mud or the number for a name and let the professionals do their work. I've had it now. I threw a clean plate at his head. He swore back and I lunged, caught by the braid from a very on-point Sam, who apologized profusely for managing to pick me up off the ground by my hair and also for inserting himself in what probably would have been an amazingly fair fight for once, seeing as Caleb doesn't want to engage in physical altercations and seeing how strong I've become living outside in the sunshine in a surprisingly nostalgic summer thus far.
Ben won't even go see Aurora. He doesn't want to get attached. Same with the kids, though I think that's more PJ's doing so they don't fall in love with her too. Loch gets attached to everything and will bear the weight. I'm going to be crushed like a bug, sending a horse up to heaven so Jacob will have one to ride since it's been a while.
It's fine if she has an ocean view and a warm salt breeze on her face when she goes. I certainly won't be asking for more than that when it's my turn.
In the meantime we all get extra snuggles and carrots too.
I want to cry but it upsets her. It upsets everyone but sometimes it's a tap I can't turn off. I asked Sam why I gravitate toward all things that aren't long for this world and he said maybe it's not me finding them, maybe it's them finding me.
