I almost lost my will to homestead..

I have been avoiding writing this post for almost a month now. But it must be done, or it will continue to be like a cloud looming over me.

On July 23, 2021, we said goodbye to Victoria's Image, aka Victoria/Vic. She would have celebrated her 30th birthday this coming January. We had a nasty outbreak of Potomac Horse Fever in our area, and Vic had been sick for about a week. I didn't catch it early enough, something I am still struggling with. With her age and other health issues, I was deeply worried. I woke up that Friday morning with a lot of hope that maybe the treatments the vet had given her earlier that week were starting to work, but it quickly became evident that she was losing her battle, and the vet concurred. We spent as much time together as we could saying goodbye, then called the vet back to help her get home peacefully as my family and her goat kids Dolly and Mae stood vigil. She is laid to rest next to her friend Honey who passed in October, and Smoke who left many years earlier. When I get enough courage I will plant her a garden and get headstones for them all. But I am not ready yet.

Vic was my first horse, a gift for my 15th birthday, and proof that childhood dreams occasionally come true. I turned 35 a few weeks ago without her, the saddest birthday I have ever had. She was my heart horse, and although she didn't have perfect conformation or behavior for a registered quarter horse mare, she was beautiful and perfect to me. She came to me as a “retired” lesson horse at the age of 9, and it soon became evident that her sass was partially to blame. But I loved that little horse with her big fiery spirit just as much as her shiny chestnut coat, thick multicolored main and tail, her pretty white star, and her smooth, slow jog. We did so much trail riding and had so many great times over the 20 years that I was blessed to spend with her. During a riding accident when I was 16, I broke my back in several places, and that sassy horse helped me hobble all the way back home. After her lung issues meant no more riding, she was still my faithful companion, and the best barn buddy who always watched her feet in the presence of chickens, ducks and goats so as not to injure anyone underfoot. She was the very best goat mom, both to her friend Gracie for a whole decade, then to Dolly and Mae these last few months..she was devoted and protective. Vic got me through the worst moments of growing up and beyond, and that star on her face became my north star many times throughout my life, especially in these last few years while dealing with so much loss. I spent every work break, day off, and evening with her. She was my emotional support animal in ways most people probably won't ever fully understand. Losing her has been disorienting to say the least. Despite the fact that Vic was the original reason for this farm in the first place, I almost lost my will to homestead entirely. I can barely go outside, or look at anything around here without thinking of her. But I must be brave. I have had to ask for help in ways I have never had to before in order to move forward. That’s ok. I can never know if I made the right choice in letting her go, but it seemed unfair to keep her any longer, so it was a choice made with a lot of love and the single greatest broken heart I've ever had. Were it not for the support I received on that day and after from family and friends, I would still be laying in the dirt beside her. And so, for the second time in 9 months, I have an empty stall and a broken heart.

Vic taught me much, and losing her has reminded me of how very much I love horses. I loved Vic most of all. I don't know "how to be" without a horse on this homestead. I hate that the horse smell is fading. I hate that the paddock grass is growing and there's nobody to eat it right now. I hate that her footprints are fading every time it rains. Grooming brushes and tack unused, no stall to clean or whickered greeting when I go outside. I hate that the goats are so lost looking and vulnerable without her. Most of all, I hate that this happened and that our story together has ended. But I am reminded that on this homestead we have made a lifetime commitment to the animals that live here. Losing her hurt like nothing else ever has, but I know deep down that the 20 years spent being Her Person was worth this pain. Wait for me at the Rainbow Bridge, Sweet Girl. You have made me who I am, and I will carry you with me forever.