My Saddle Horse Has Died....

This blog is one I have been sitting on since February and for good reason.

I sold a horse to buy hay this year. She was a gorgeous sorrel four year old. Oakley. She was born at my house and if not for the fact that I knew she was going to an amazing home with a loving family she would have lived her whole life with me. I was so happy thinking about the long and loving life Oakley was going to have. I loved Oakley. She went to her new home in November and I sat a long time and cried because I knew I was going to miss her horribly.

Oakley July 2015

In February I got a phone call that shattered my whole world. Oakley's new family had had her Coggins test done and she had come back positive. Coggins is the test used to detect Equine Infectious Anemia and a positive result is an immediate death sentence. I cried for Oakley, and I cried because I knew the infection had to come from my herd. I scheduled the tests for all of my beautiful babies and I waited. Let me tell you that waiting was simply awful. A person can't help but speculate where the disease came from or worse how many other horses have been put at risk. My tests came back and the results were even more catastrophic than I expected. 

The veterinarian from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency called me on the Saturday following the test and told me that eleven of the seventeen tested animals had come back positive. He couldn't tell me at the time which individuals were infected. I can honestly tell you that at that moment I wanted nothing as much as I wanted my own life to end. I was going to have to euthanize my babies, my friends, including bred mares, horses I had owned for over a decade, and who knew which ones I had to say goodbye to. I scheduled a meeting with the vet to discuss the results and I took anti anxiety medication and stayed in bed for the next two days. 

The vet showed me the paper with the results as I stared mutely and felt the whole world crash down. 

Norah and Flicka Christmas 2012

 Tiny but Mighty's pony, the one she got for Christmas when she was three, the one who would only listen to her, the one due to have her baby any minute was positive. I thought about my poor baby and trying to explain to her why her friend had to die. I thought about the plucky little miniature and the way she grieved when her baby was killed by a mountain lion in 2013. My eyes filled with tears and I read the next name. 

Eeyore

  Eeyore my brave miniature donkey, protector of all and general tough customer. He had been my baby since he was six months old or so.

 Star... My soul screamed... God no please not Star!! My best friend for fourteen years, a gift from my Dad, my partner, the horse that taught my babies to ride. Please let them be wrong about Star. 

Star 2014

Three names into the list and I couldn't breathe. My entire world literally destroyed at my feet, praying this was just a horrible dream and I would wake up I continued to read the list, each name shattering my heart like a stone throw through a window. Believe me dear reader I would love to type a loving biography of each beautiful soul for you here today but the grief in my heart is simply too great. When the meeting was done the fate of every horse I have ridden in the last fourteen years was sealed. Quarantine papers were signed and life looked pretty bleak from where I was standing. We had to wait for an official diagnosis before the horses could be destroyed so I made it my mission to spend as much time as I could riding them, loving them and imprinting them in my memory before I had to say goodbye. 

I faced the gruesome task of proving their worth to people who didn't know them.I also decided that they were not going to die for no reason.I learned everything I could about this disease and how to make sure I never have to do this again.  I looked up horses of similar quality to my beautiful babies and to be totally honest I didn't find a single one, because horses like mine are the kind you keep for a lifetime. Sweet gentle child friendly horses with months of professional training. You just cant walk out the door and find that. 

Finally two weeks ago I could prolong my time with them no longer. The CFIA vets came out and started putting my beautiful herd to rest. We did Star first because she was starting to show signs of actually being ill and I couldnt stand to see her hurt for one second longer than she needed to. One by one I held their heads as they left this world, ten beautiful souls in total and the entire fruit of my life's work. 

Lots of people have asked where the infection came from and we have narrowed down when they became infected and the possible source. I am very relieved that the chances that it left my herd are extremely slim. 

I have decided to make mandatory testing my mission. I never want anyone to lay in their bed afraid to close their eyes for fear of seeing the knees of their best friend buckle as she sank to the ground for the last time, or the seizure of a mare who was allergic to the medication, or Eeyore who fought until his last breath to live and looked up at me with eyes full of betrayal and hurt. My horses where the lucky ones. The disease was detected early and I never allowed them to suffer. Animals who are dying of this disease suffer beyond description. The only way to prevent this disease is routine testing and aggressive culling policies. Please test. Not just for the health of your own animals but to make sure we aren't continuing to spread this disease. 

Blood and Roses

So you all know I live in northern Saskatchewan in the forest. This morning on the way to drive the kids to school I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. I froze when I realized it was Sasquatch. He was holding candy and flowers and was very disappointed when I explained that although my appearance was deceiving I was not a female Bigfoot . I think I may have seen a tear in his eye as he slowly turned and melted back into the trees. 

This experience in mind, I decided some personal time was in order. I collected the trappings of "beauty" and headed to the bathroom. 

I posted a ton of stuff on social media as I waited for the tub to fill then climbed into the tub. Just as I started shaving my....knees..... my phone starts to have a seizure of epic proportions, falls on the floor and scares me half to death. I jump a good three feet and cut a chunk out of my ...knees... A chunk I was quite attached to... So I'm sorry guy I won't be taking you to the bath with me anymore especially when I shave my ...knees.. In fact I'll probably switch to airplane mode :s

My Friend Misery....

How we deal with stress is a huge part of who we are. The nicest person in the world can become a total monster under enough stress. I find that as I get older it takes less and less to turn me from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.

I'm not ready to talk about the reason I am stressed but suffice it to say I feel like a grenade in a garbage can. That got me thinking about stress and how I handle it.

When I was young I got drunk, danced and partied and usually got into a fight. When I quit drinking I failed to find a good way to disperse the adrenaline and pressure from stress and thus I have had ongoing issues with anxiety and anger.

I hate the feeling of being out of control, either angry or happy, I hate when I cant channel my feelings or at least see the good in something. I'm trying to cope with a huge horrible life event dear reader and I am struggling not to turn it inwards and destroy myself.

I am not sure yet how I will manage it but I will let you know as things unfold. Right now I have been taking steps ( in case anyone was worried) So comment, I need suggestions, how do you deal with stress?

Here comes Peter Cottontail...

I'm not sure if you have figured it out yet but I'm not a very organized parent, and I over extend myself regularly. Most of the time I am frazzled and hurried.

This weekend I worked and my children stayed at home under the watchful eye of friends. As I was getting ready my daughter of seven years looked up and said , "Mama, if you are going to work does that mean the Easter Bunny is dead?" Interesting choice of words little one.

When Mini Chaos was born I decided not to lie to her. We never had Santa presents and every Christmas we talked about the birth of Christ and winter solstice and pagan rituals that have become our "Christian" traditions. No Easter bunny came but beautiful children's books about the redemptive love of Jesus.

When Tiny-But-Mighty came along I had lost some of my zeal. I had been hurt horribly by a pastoral experience, I was tired and I missed the magic in my life. I still won't lie to my child but I find myself indulging in some fantasy now and then. TBM is just the kid that needs a little magic in her life if that makes sense.

I was feeling a little remorseful about not realizing it was Easter and planning for it. I mentioned the whole thing to my friend, who also happens to employ me. She was so kind dear reader and I wish I could express all the emotion and gratitude I am feeling, because she gave me an Easter basket for my wild eyed little dreamer. Another friend picked my children up and took them to the family meal with the family I have adopted as my own now that I live so far away from my blood relations.

TBM smiled at me as she clutched the tiny stuffed rabbit and wind up chick from the Easter basket, her tummy full of turkey and chocolate and said,"I'm glad the Easter bunny is your friend Mama."

I'm glad too little one.  

Here Pig, Pig ,Pig

I have a potbelly pig in the house. Her name is Peaches. She is one of the sweetest most loving creatures on planet earth. There is one completely irritating thing Peaches does. She screams. When the kids are playing, when she is hungry and I walk towards the kitchen, when I sit next to her and I am not touching her but most often when I am watching a suspenseful program and it gets to the climax. Just as they start to announce the killer, or unmask the villain peaches screams as though a blood thirsty wolf has suddenly materialized inside her bed.

 I love my little thirty-five pound bundle of neurotic cuteness but those moments I start to think about bacon. I swear dear reader it has been driving me insane for months. Pause the program, wait for the pig to settle down, turn it back on only for her to become just as agitated within seconds.

I'm a fairly intelligent person but until today I couldn't figure it out. Today it finally dawned on me what the trigger is. The background music scares my pig. Picture if you will a grown woman turning the volume off and switching to closed captioning in order to get through an episode of Criminal Minds. Lucky for her I love her.

Pour me, another shot of whiskey....

Yesterday was frustrating, stressful and upsetting. I have to get the horses feet trimmed, I have mares about to foal any day, I have an annual vet visit coming on Tuesday that even though it should be fine, always causes me anxiety.

Tiny-but-mighty cowgirl is currently homeschooling so before we could go anywhere, her studies had to be done and I had to convince her to leave the cocoon of the home. Not as simple as it sounds dear reader and I was in frustrated tears more than once.

 First I had to get help to get into the place where the horses are kept because it snowed heavy thick wet snow after raining for a few days , our weather has been bizarre to say the least this year. I HATE asking people for help. I would rather pierce my skin with fish hooks, and I have an irrational fear of fish hooks . In my experience people who help you use it to stab you dead later or they get grumpy and make sure you know how inconvenient you are. Not all people by any means but I am a kenestetic (sp?) person and those are the feelings I associate with help, anger frustration, guilty and disappointment.

Fortunately yesterday I had help. Upon arriving at the pasture I called and my horses obediently trudged into the area, thank goodness. I went to go and pull the needed equipment out of the shed and realized both myself and mini Chaos had forgotten our Tackshed key... I guess the cowgirl apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I managed to find a screwdriver and remove the hasp so we could gain access to the shed.

I was relieved to be into the shed, with people waiting around to help with the work of the day. I was almost happy and encouraged as I dragged out halters, pails, and the farrier box. Others were working at catching my donkey, Daphne, who is savage to trim and has to be tranquilized, and other horses to trim in order of how much they need it done. I opened my tool box of tricks and my heart sank. No nippers. I remember seeing them before I moved, in July and I know they have been used a couple times since but I have no idea where they could be.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that was it for me. I sat ten minutes in the snow crying , thanked my friends for trying to help the hopeless and let the horses out. I posted on social media asking for prayer replaced the lock on the shed and went to town to buy new nippers.

I quit drinking a long time ago but last night as I crawled in the door exhausted and defeated I wanted to drink. I didn't drink though. I put Tiny-But-Mighty to bed, read her a story and cuddled with my pig on the couch. Good days aren't the victory dear reader, bad days are.

I'm not racist but...

There is an attitude in the air like a sticky hot summer day and you can't escape from it. No matter where I go or what I do it follows me. It wounds my heart it ways I can't define and some days it is so powerful and overwhelming I literally weep in the dark until I am spent.

The blatant ugliness of racism or racial prejudice is like murky black water that swallows me. My family is biracial and my oldest children even more so. It is strange how people assume from your skin that you are going to agree with their opinions and biases. The other day a woman ranted at length to me about not wanting to go into a local business because of the "Indians" in said establishment. I promise you dear reader that I did not act upon the feelings this conversation gave me, for the most part because I was working and I needed to maintain decorum. I did however vibrate with frustration and indignation as I thought of all the beautiful and loving Native people I know including family members and my sweet beautiful boys.

Over time I have become calloused to the statements that elderly people make about hating this nationality or that , what ever particular group is in vogue to hate and this is wrong. No one is old enough to hate with out consequence. When I hear people in their youth regurgitating this horrible poison it infuriates me beyond reason. Why do the elderly get a free hate pass? How can we stop the hate?

Hate isn't limited to any particular race, social group, class or type of person.

What if we made diversity part of education? What if we taught history from both sides of the conflict and did away the the antagonist? What if instead of heroes and villains in human history we had people who did their best with the information they had?