Rasta-my 2nd horse. My first horse was a lesson horse, a well trained mare named Princess. Chosen. But Rasta, Rasta was a gift. When I was ready to learn, Rasta arrived. He wasn’t very socialized, but over time we managed to grow close. He started showing symptoms of that stupid disease dsld/espa about 3 years ago so we quit riding. He held his own so well, I figured he’d be around for years. Two weeks ago he tweaked his “good” leg. We worked on it, but it was time to go.
It was a beautiful day. I had given myself time. I had given him time. I had confirmed with him that he was ready. I spent my weekend with him, and two evenings this week. Last night we were both in sync. Connected. It was nice. Today I took off work to spend more time just sitting with him.
A storm arrived with the vet so that kept the whole process at a slower, more comfortable pace as we awaited the front. She could just observe during that time. Then a little later after the for sure, for sure final decision was made, the rain came down so we could wait a bit for it to pass through. Then the sun came out again. It was a good day to die and Rasta handled it like the champion he was.
He was a great horse. He guarded the entire 80 acres of farm always knowing what was going on in every section. He didn’t like being futzed with, but he always liked mechanical stuff. He was interested in how things worked. The manure spreader and the float valves fascinated him. He thought they were cool. He liked things neat and he loved fresh water. (a shout out to the farm who takes great care of that stuff!)
He learned to “kiss” years ago and always had a kiss for me even on days when he had no interest in being caught to go do something. He’d just stretch his neck out a little farther for that kiss lest he get too close.
Rasta also was a nice horse. He was in charge of his field, but he was not a field marshall. He led quietly and let Booger harass him to no end until he’d finally have enough. One little “HEY” out of him and that would be that. Poco, my old quarterhorse on senior feed needs to be separated into a pen two or three times a day to eat. The other 3 have their “places” during this time and everyone knew where these places were. Rasta would often get slightly out of place just to give Poco an excuse to lay down the law and feel powerful. It was wonderful. Truly.