Goodbye, ‘Mr. C’: Losing the old ones.
Yesterday we had to put to sleep our amazing Argentinian Criollo, ‘Corona’, better known as ‘Mr. C’.
He was about 23, had been diagnosed with Cushing’s Disease a few years ago, had ruptured his left Check Ligament about 7 years ago (in a very minor trip!), had developed ring bone on his right leg, and back in about 2010 he had been diagnosed with necrotic holes in both his pedal bones with the flexor tendons adhering to each other and the local bone! In short he was carrying a lot of serious, chronic injuries when we got him and he had accumulated many more.
Then suddenly and unexpectedly, he became very lame by somehow badly damaged his right rear fetlock overnight. He had been carrying some lameness for quite some time and he was now clearly in a lot more pain. We tried various treatments but he was no better by the next morning.
The vet came quickly and examined him very thoroughly but reluctantly advised that he needed to be put to sleep. To be fair, Sue had expected this would be the conclusion as soon as she saw his latest injury. He couldn’t bear weight on his newly injured leg and the other legs just weren’t coping.
Mr. C was given sedative but was very aware and became extremely peaceful. This was so very reassuring. He seemed so accepting, as if he understood what was going on. The vet was very professional, explained exactly what would happen made sure we were keep safe. The drugs acted very quickly. He had clearly gone before he hit the floor.
We felt we needed to let just a few people know. We didn’t feel ready to share this news. It was a little too private and too raw.
My friends, Cathy and Rebecca sent some really lovely private messages which showed us just how much Mr. C. had meant to them. He had touched so many hearts. He was gentle, kind, considerate and always tried his absolute best. He loved people. And they loved him.
Cathy wrote very tenderly saying, “Thank you for letting me love him too. He was very dear to me.” 🥲. It was so lovely to hear that he was loved by many others and that he would not be forgotten.
In her message, Rebecca described:
“Mr. C. has always had a special place in my heart. His sensitivity and kindness and his beautiful canter. I remember most vividly riding him in the pouring rain singing, ‘The Sun Has Got His Hat On’ to cheer us both up!”
She later mentioned how she had honoured Mr. C by sending. her thanks to him up in heaven.
Inspired by this, I decided to stand still for a few minutes to honour the passing of Mr. C. – just like at The Armistice commemoration. So, putting my left palm on my heart, I said my ‘goodbyes’ and sent him my heartfelt gratitude. After a few minutes, I spontaneously changed to a gesture of ‘thanks’ (🙏🏻), formed over my heart. It all seemed to help and I began to feel far more peaceful…
Then in the spur of the moment I decided to ask Mr. C whether he had anything to share with me.
I was instantly filled with a deep, powerful and visceral sensation of warmth, love and gratitude. These sensations did not feel like my emotions but more like an energy that had entered me and was nourished me.
There was a sense of wonder and pure beauty. It spread from the centre of my chest to fill my whole body. And in some mysterious, intuitive, body-based sense (for this seemed like no mere fancy of my mind) I knew with a certainty that I could not rationally justify, that Mr. C was sending me his heartfelt thanks. It was like a profoundly warm and long embrace. All sense of time was absent as I stood basking in this amazing feeling.
Then I was brought out of this reverie as a single tear trickled from each of my eyes. This was not the deluge of tears I had had some 14 hours before, as we stood saying our final goodbyes, and the vet prepared Mr. C’s final injection. And I realised with some surprise that this time, despite the tears, I was actually smiling.
As I write this, I have the sense that I hadn’t just felt some kind of temporary ‘hug’ but that something had been ‘given’ to me; almost like I had received some kind of download; something I would be able to return to, and tap into, whenever I needed.
On reflection, there are clear parallels to my experience when my first horse, Buddy passed away a few years ago because just like then, this was also a deeply comforting, reassuring and healing experience.
It’s difficult to describe but the ‘energetic signature’ of each horse was completely unique and also like nothing that I ever felt from either of them when they were alive. I can only conclude that I was in touch with what many would term as their very essence or spirit.
And I was reminded that, quite paradoxically, there can sometimes be great beauty in and around death, especially death at the end of a long life. Through the grief of death, we can sense the Cycle of Life not just as some mental construct but as a raw, sensation-filled, lived experience.
My conclusion is that when we become desensitised to life, when we accept it as normal and ordinary, then death can come as a great shock and even the death of aged loved ones can feel like a complete tragedy.
However, as we awake to the felt experience that life, all life, is completely miraculous, then we can start to better accept such deaths as a natural part of life. Whilst we still feel the loss and still need to process this, death can begin to feel much less ‘wrong’…
