Miss Scarlett


Born Spring 1990 - Passed into the night on May 12, 2004

Lovingly euthanized after a long and brave struggle to overcome colic.

My memories of Miss Scarlett are many, and how could they not be? She was my whole life and I'm sure that I was hers. Yet as many memories that I know I have of her, I find it so hard to recall them, not because it has been too long to remember them all in detail, but because I can't, or rather... I wont. The memories are there but they are so painful...even the happy ones. They are a constant reminder to me of the painful reality that my sweet Miss Scarlett is not coming back, that I will never again run my hands along her spotted rump, I'll never kiss that rough muzzle of hers, I'll never look into her dark marbled eyes and see myself and the love she bore for me staring straight back into mine. We healed each other, we made each other whole again.

Miss Scarlett was beaten and starved for four long years before she came to me, she was little more than a walking skeleton, but though her body was broken, her fire and her spirit were not. She hung on desperately to the last remaining threads of her life, refusing to simply lay down and die, she was so strong and that was how she earned the name "Miss Scarlett". Just as Scarlett O'Hara had done while she stood in the ruins of her once beautiful plantation, looking to the heavens and saying "As God is my witness I'm not going to let them beat me, I'm going to live through this. As God is my witness...I'll NEVER be hungry again!" I could sense that same strength and power in Miss Scarlett. She did live through it, and became my own, my dream, my fantasy. (And all for just 150 bucks!)

I find myself trying to escape from the painful memories and trying to escape her. Yet I can't. I can't avoid her, not when her red halter hangs on my door in my room, the I.V. still attached to the side from her struggle to overcome colic, I just don't have the heart to take it off. Not when a piece of her tail lays neatly on a shelf above my bed, not when her blanket and fly mask lie solemnly in a corner, not when her shoe hangs on my wall, and not when her blood, the very blood she spilt the night she died lies safely and permanently inside a small chest along with a lock of her mane. With all these trinkets around me, along with pictures and constant dreams and whispers; how can I escape her? How can I forget? Do I wish I could? NO! I would rather suffer the rest of my life upon this earth with painful reminders of her than to have not had the three years of love and companionship she and I shared.

I wish more than anything that we could have had more than the three years we shared, but it seemed that the one thing she could not fight against was colic, though she tried. And when everyone around watched her fighting to stay alive, only she and I knew that the only thing keeping her here...the only reason she would not let go, was because of her love for me. She was not fighting for herself, but for the girl who had loved her and rescued her and brought back her faith in humanity. Knowing that this was her only reason for her continued struggle that night, I lay down next to her and touched my forehead to hers. I stared deep into those liquid eyes and stroked her cheek, I remember saying to her, "I know why you're still fighting baby girl...you don't have to suffer for me. It's okay sweetheart...you need to rest now." I stopped then and moved my mouth to her furry ear, I cupped it and whispered: "What do you want me to do baby girl?" Pulling back and looking into that sweet face, I could hear her say to me, "You know." I nodded and kissed her beautiful white heart on her forehead, knowing that I owed her this, I owed her an easier passing, an end to the pain I knew she was feeling. And so I said goodbye to her, and shortly after, she was lovingly put to sleep. She left this world with a final gift from me...she left knowing that she was loved and always will be until eternity ceases.

I wait eagerly for that moment when my life is through and I walk out of the mist and see a familiar shape standing before me on a green hill, a certain white heart on her forehead shinning at me like a beacon to someone who is lost in the night. But more than that, I long to hear that familiar sound, that happy nicker that only she could make, her special call to me and the sound of her striped hooves pounding the earth as she runs to me. I long for that moment when her mottled nose will touch my hand and blow onto it softly, when I will wrap my arms around her powerful neck and feel again the beat of her heart and the warmth of her body. I long for that moment when it will be just her and I, together at last after a long and dark parting, and when that moment finally comes, may we NEVER be parted again.

My love will fly to you each night on angel's wings. God speed little mare, sweet dreams little mare. I will always, ALWAYS love you.

Forever and eternally,
Your Girl, Shanna

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