Dear Reuben,
I let you go this morning.
I'd planned to do it next week, but you told me last night that now was the
time. You felt better this morning, after a huge dose of medications, and
I'm grateful that you had one more good morning—very good, probably
since I let you eat just about everything in the barn.
You know, when you came
into my life just over two years ago, I wasn't looking for a horse. I'd wanted
one my entire life, yes, but I can't say that as a 20-year-old college student
I had any business buying a horse. And yet there you were. I feel silly admitting
this, but it took two months for me to realize that your registered name
— R D Lite — meant "Our Delight."
Things didn't go terribly
smoothly at first. I'd ridden for years and leased two horses, but you were
very much the ex-racehorse—too much horse for me. We had rough times,
and I came close to selling you—and by close, I mean there was someone
in the barn aisle with check in hand. But I couldn't sell you. Instead, I
decided to become the rider you needed. Our dressage lessons began to pay
off, and you became the horse everyone gravitated to, the horse everyone
watched, even though you were a cheap OTTB in a barn full of fancy warmbloods.
Little kids always asked to pet you (you tolerated this--barely), and their
parents couldn't take their eyes off you. Everyone said we were perfectly
matched. It took some work, yes, but they were right. I've never loved anything
in the world the way I loved you.
We never did make it to the
recognized shows. I bought a lifetime USDF registration for you last summer
even though I knew you might not recover, because I had to believe we'd make
it. We only ever went to one show, and I'm as proud of that tiny schooling
show as I could be of anything larger. Not only were you a prince, but you
bravely faced the herd of bison penned at the end of the warm-up arena. (Ah,
Montana!) You also came to the University campus one day to help recruit
new members for the Equestrian Team. I think the campus Oval looked like
a big saddling paddock to you, but you settled down and drew a crowd, as
always. When we rode down the Frontage Road together, truckers would always
honk at us, and you couldn't have cared less.
The last year has been tough,
Roo. First a suspensory injury, then persistent "scratches." A stay in the
vet clinic this summer brought a diagnosis of leukocytoclastic vasculitis.
Dr. Richardson and I worked so hard to make you well, but nothing ever worked
as well or as quickly as it should have. You injured another ligament, in
a different leg, this summer. Still, you always kept your spirits up. I came
to take care of you every day, and you stayed so patient through the wrapping
and medicating and rehab. Then new lesions began to appear on your body,
and a second diagnosis came in: systemic granulomatous disease. Steroids
were not going to work this time. Then you came up lame again. Last night,
you clearly weren't feeling well. I have no doubt that you would have kept
trying if I'd asked you to. Everyone said you had incredible heart. But it
was time.
Reuben, I love you so very
much. Every horse I own in the future will owe a huge debt to you, for you
have made me a better, more knowledgeable, more patient owner and rider.
I do not regret one moment of our time together. If love and devotion could
have saved your life, you would be with me still. But your body betrayed
you, destroying itself bit by bit. I know this was the right thing. I know
I did all I could for you, and I know that you would not have been able to
win this battle. I don't regret sparing you the struggle.
You were perfect, Reuben,
and I'll carry your soul in my heart always.
All my love,
Sarah
R D Lite 
