American Paint Horse June 8, 2002 - May 24, 2013 I remember the first day I brought my best friend to his new home where he was to be boarded. He was always so well behaved and calm. Even when he was giving you attitude it was simply a turn and walk away from you, not a nip. I did anything and everything with him and to him. He was my light in this time of my life...I was being bullied a lot in school and I always felt better because I would go down to his stable and visit him. He would always make me feel better, trying to eat my shirt and boots. We soon moved him to a stable closer to home and I visited every single day. Even when the stable didn't like us very much he was still my best friend. I remember the dreadful call I got that morning. The barn owner called me at 7:14 in the morning...I can't believe I remember the time even. She told me he had a bit of colic and wouldn't be around long since graduation was that day and wanted me to help walk him. So I got dressed and left, walking him for quiet a while till he started trying to roll and I got worried deciding to call the vet who gave me instructions and told me he would be okay. Giving him some mineral oil and leaving after handing me the bill...though I think I lost the stupid thing. I did as the vet said, walking him for five minutes every half hour for four hours and when he looked to be feeling better went home for 30 minutes to get my first bite of food for the day at 11:35. My mom had called me to ask how he was and tell me my brother understood I missed his graduation and this was important. I went and checked on him and saw he had passed the shiny liquid. I decided it would be okay to go meet a potential client at her house. I was gone maybe a hour and a half and when I returned he was lying down. He usually does, but how he was lying made me worry so I made him rise, though it was harder then usual. He kept wanting to get down and stay down and I realized after a little while of trying to work him he was getting worse. My friend Paula ponies Chief around on her Arabian whilst I called the vet and a hour later he came and checked Chief again. The vet said it doesn't appear he is twisted and should be fine if I just walk him and ensure he doesn't roll, though lying down is alright. He was on sedatives so we took his lead rope off and let him snooze the drugs off. But by the time they wore off he was horrible. Rolling and getting up lying down and rolling, wobbling on his legs. I started having to walk him from 4 that afternoon all the way to 10 o'clock or so...when one lady decided to finally help me seeing I had trouble keeping him standing and walking now and no matter what I did he seemed to stay down and roll. She couldn't get him to stay up and she called another friend who called another and soon we had around five people trying to keep him moving, massaging his stomach and trying to help him pass gas and feces while we waited for the vet. When he arrived the vet sedated him and slipped a gloved hand into his rectum. And the words that I didn't want to hear came from his mouth: "Well it looks like we have a twist in there. The only real options we have are to put him down or send him to surgery." I didn't want to put my best friend down. My mother asked about the surgery but it was 12,000 dollars...well out of our price range. And even if we could have afforded it the nearest hospital was so far away he probably would die before he even made it there. So I had no choice. I fell and sat on the floor of the arena wailing and screaming about how it wasn't fair, that I couldn't lose my handsome bit. I didn't want to see them inject him but I had to. I watched the entire process all the way to his last breath. I asked for a bit of his mane and tail, along with his halter and lead rope. I don't dare set foot in that boarding facility. And I found out why he got his colic...the owner had put him out on very very rich pasture for three hours. I sleep with his halter at night and breathe in his smell. I miss my best friend so, so much. June fourth is my birthday and I will be 16 years old. June 8 was his. I only owned him for a year but the bond we had felt like I had him so, so much longer. Chiefy, I want you to know that I love you so, so, so much. And that no matter what, you will always be my number one partner in crime. Together we would have eaten all the carrots in the world... Samantha Runnells

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