I rescued Whiz about 2 1/2 years ago and never really knew how old she was. When I got her she was a mess. Her tail and mane were all knots, she was covered in mud from hoof to stomach and her feet were way too long. I cleaned her up and fell in love with her.
From what little I know about her history she was a cattle horse, then a broodmare, that was until I got her. I only rode her once as I thought she deserved the easy life. Every day she was allowed to wander 20 acres without any fences holding her in. I think she was happy not to be held back as she wandered the property. She was absolutely beautiful with her dark bay color, black mane and tail and a white blaze. I loved seeing her standing on the hill with the wind blowing her mane and tail. She looked majestic.
Her name was one of my son's first words. He would see her and yell Whiz. He still calls her name when he looks at the barn. About 2 months ago she started to slow down and the vet said if she didn't get better we would need to make a decision before winter. On November 12 she was having a hard time walking and mostly layed down. I sat with her in the paddock and told her she needed to tell me when it was time. I don't know if it was a coincidence or her telling me, but she put her head on my lap, closed her eyes and let out a big sigh. I think that was her way of telling me it was time. I called the vet and he came out that evening and said it was her time.
Whiz was my first horse and I loved her very much. Before she left this earth I gave her a big hug and kiss and told her I would see her again. I told her she was going to a place where she would have no pain and could run free. She is buried in her favorite spot in the field and in the spring I am going to plant a blueberry bush for her. She always seemed to find the blueberries before I could pick them.
RIP Whiz and I will see you again. Run wild, my beautiful lady.