I first saw my Prince when he was just a year old. Running with a herd
of horses that ran wild. Some farmer had about 35 that he just had for the
fun of it. It was love at first sight, at least for me. I was 12 at the time.
I begged my dad to buy him for me, I just knew I could tame him. So for $35
and over a hour of chasing, we loaded him up and away we went
home.
For two weeks I just sat
by his stall and talked to him. I went in, fed him and cleaned his stall.
He just stared at me. Then that "day" came. He walked up to me and let me
touch him!! I thought I had just won the Kentucky Derby. A few short weeks
later he was halter broke and I even put a bridle on him.
After about 6 weeks I decided
it was time to ride. At the age of 12 you're invincible. I got on him bareback.
Nothing. I gave him a nudge and he started walking. Never bucked
once.
Prince was my horse for
4-H for 10 years. We won lots of ribbons. Nobody could believe that I could
handle such a big boy (16 hands). After 4-H we "retired" for a few years
as I got married and had babies. After 8 years, we went on the open show
circuit. We did pretty good.
Prince was always a healthy
horse, until one day, my daughter called me to say he was down. She thought
he had colicked. I was over 60 miles from home. I drove very fast and all
I could think of was, "You can't go without me being able to say
goodbye.".
When I got home he was
down. I jumped out of the car and just yelled his name. His head came up
and he fought with all he had to get up. The vet came and it was a very long
night but he made it. He was 18 at the time.
Then the day came in November
of 1989. Two days before Thanksgiving. I came home from work and he was down.
I ran to him and he tried so hard to get up for me. He tried at least 6 times.
He just couldn't. My heart was breaking. I knew I was losing my best friend,
my love, my "poo".
The vet came and listened
to his heart. She just handed me the stethoscope and said, listen. His heart
sounded like a water balloon. One of his valves had given way. My options
were. 1. Put him on medication and hope he lived another 6 weeks. 2. Put
him down.
He was 28. We had lots of
years together and lots of love. There was no way I was going to make him
suffer. I put his head in my lap and said, "Let's do it.".
As I brushed his beautiful face and kissed him and told him how much I loved
him, he went to "sleep". My vet was even crying. I'll never forget the look
in his eyes. It was if he was saying, "It's okay, I love you too, thanks
for loving me enough to let me go".
My big boy was
gone.
Diane
Prince 
