In Memory of Colonel
Colonel was an 18 hand,
2000 pound Belgian Draft Horse gelding. He was a gentle giant with a heart
as big as a mountain. In 2001, I began my search for my first draft horse,
and my journey took me to an Amish community in Jamesport, Missouri. The
Amish horse trader I spoke to of my needs said that while he didn't have
a saddle broke draft in his herd, he did have the Colonel, who he thought
would be pretty easy to train. When I first saw Colonel, I knew this was
the guy for me. He was 10 years old and had only been used to pull the Amish
farm equipment and wagons. He was gentle as a kitten and the elderly Amish
fellow offered to try and ride him for me. Not wanting to see him get hurt
and since he has so much faith in Colonel, I decided to try him myself. We
put brand new tack that he had never worn before in the form of a saddle
and riding bridle. He took it fairly well and then I mounted. To my amazement,
Colonel walked, trotted and even loped with me like he had always done it!
He soon came home to Texas with me.
Over the next almost two
years, Colonel and I rode all the time. He would do or go anywhere I asked
of him and then some. He was my companion, my confidant and my best friend.
Colonel had a heart as big as a mountain and would do anything for
me.
Then, on Easter Sunday of
2003, tragedy struck in the form of severe founder in both front feet. He
spent a month at Texas A&M trying to get better. I would visit him and
find him lying down, not wanting to put his weight on his feet. Eventually,
he became well enough to come home and we began a regimen of care for Colonel
with the help of my vet and farrier. As time went on, Colonel had his high
points and low points, but we thought true progress was being made. Through
it all, Colonel continued to do all that I asked him to do, be it taking
medicine or getting him to walk, despite the pain in his feet. He never gave
up and always held his head high.
Try as we might, we just
couldn't make Colonel well. On January 9th, he began to show signs that the
pain had gotten worse. Over the next few days, he began to eat less and less
and walk less and less, not wanting even to cross his stall from his grain
to his hay. By Monday, his proud head, always held so high and mighty, began
to droop, and he looked at me with sadness in his eyes. Tuesday, he had laid
down and had a hard time getting up, but with the tremendous heart that he
had, he did get up for me and ate some. Wednesday morning however, was the
beginning of the end as I found him lying down again in his stall when I
went in to feed. This time, my friend could not get up, although he did try
for me several times. I knew it was time to say goodbye to my friend, but
just couldn't make the decision. I called the vet who agreed that it might
finally be time to let Colonel go, but told me to take my time and make the
decision when I felt it was right. Colonel himself was telling me that it
was time to let him go and release him from his pain. As the morning went
on, and Colonel continued to lie there in considerable pain, I finally made
the hardest decision of my life. Around 10 am, I called the vet and made
the decision to let Colonel go.
We were not sure how we
would get him out of his stall, being such a huge horse, but Colonel himself solved that problem. Shortly after
I made the decision, Colonel pushed himself to his feet for the first time
that morning, as if saying he was ready to go. He was in obvious pain, but
his heart kept him going for me. He walked painfully out of his stall to
the pasture where we would lay him to rest and waited, while his final resting
place was prepared. The grave was dug with a ramp so that we could try and
walk Colonel down into it and make the passing easier without having to try
and lift him in. We didn't know how he would take to the dirt ramp, but once
again, Colonel made it easy for me as he had always done throughout our
relationship. Colonel calmly walked to the gravesite with me, and after briefly
sniffing the spot, simply walked with me down into it. With my wife and the
vet following. There was no hesitation on his part. No fear. Colonel was
again telling me that he was ready to go. After getting situated, the vet
administered the sedative. I held Colonel's head as he began to get sleepy,
talking with him and thanking him for all that he had given me.
The final drugs were
administered and the end was very quick and painless as Colonel first gently
went to his knees and then onto his side. He stretched out as he had always
done to sleep at night, and after two deep breaths, Colonel crossed his Rainbow
Bridge. I wept for my friend. I wept for my loss. I wept for all the wonderful
times we shared and all that he did for me. I wept for all the times we would
not share. Colonel was not with me long, but in the short time we were together,
this big horse gave me more than I could ever begin to describe. On the evening
of Colonel's passing, it began to rain and would rain for three days. I guess
the angels too, were weeping, not only for my loss, but also for their gain.
I suppose God is a big person, who needed a big horse like Colonel to ride
the ranges of heaven.
In speaking about the Horse,
the British poet, Ronald Duncan, summed up best what I feel for my beloved
Colonel when he said, "Where in this wide world can a man find nobility without
pride, friendship without envy or beauty without vanity? Here: where grace
is laced with muscle and strength by gentleness confined. He serves without
servility; he has fought without enmity. There is nothing so powerful, nothing
less violent; there is nothing so quick, nothing less patient." This was
certainly an apt description of my Colonel.
Farewell,
my friend. Now you can walk and run in green pastures, with no pain nor hardship.
You will forever be my friend and in my memories. One day, I will join you
and we will be together again.
God speed, dear Colonel.
Farewell.
Tim Manson
The Last
Ride
God saw that he was
getting tired,
and a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around him
and whispered, "Come with Me.".
With tearful eyes we
watched him suffer
and saw him fade away.
Although we couldn't bear to lose him,
we could not bid him to stay.
A golden heart stopped
beating,
hard working feet were laid to rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us,
He only takes the best.
Author Unknown
