Friends, I recently learned that a horse I knew, passed away. He was the son of my horse, Mickey; my dear mare. She died maybe fifteen years ago. Her son, Indiana, carried on, and sadly, passed away in the last week.
I miss Mickey–what a great horse she was–and I will also miss her son, Indiana. He inherited Mickey’s characteristics: gentle to strangers, pleasant to ride, but ready to let it rip if I asked him to. Needless to say, I had many happy rides on him.
When I got the news of Indiana’s death (“the kind thing,” at the hands of a qualified veterinarian), all I could think of was a poem I learned long ago, which included these lines:
Before you die,
Whatever else you leave undone,
Once ride a wild horse, into the sun.
I’ve done that, both on my Mickey and her son, Indiana. Friends, please spare a thought for “Indy,” as he was often called; and if you can, spare a thought for Mickey. The product of a PMU farm, she was–as best as we could guess–the offspring of a Clydesdale and a Morgan. Most importantly, she was a horse, and she was mine.
At any rate, one of our animal friends has passed. Please spare a thought for Indy.
Pregnant Mare Urine. Premarin is made from it. It’s a hideous practice. Mares must be kept pregnant to produce it, so the resultant foals are often sent to auction. I’m sure many are killed outright. Then there are the lucky few who are rescued as Spoons’ Mickey was.
I’m sorry, Spoons. I miss my horses who have gone, as well.
To the best of my knowledge, no; though it is possible.
I got to know Mickey when she was about ten years old. Indy was one or two at that time, so Mickey could have had another foal (or two) before Indy; but my farmer friend got Mickey and her foal Indy as a package deal; and as Mickey came out of a PMU farm, he wasn’t too concerned about pedigree. I have no idea who was Indy’s father, at any rate.
My farmer friend boarded Mickey for me, though he kept Indy, so Mickey and Indy stayed together. After Mickey’s death, maybe 13 years ago, my farmer friend told me that if I wanted a ride, I could tack out Indy. Which I did. He was much like his mother was, as I said.
Friends, thank you for the sentiments. They mean a lot.
When I was 16 I sold my car & bought my horse.
“Tony” was older and had taught manny in the area roping.
He had an iron mouth, two speeds, ‘whoa’ & ‘go’.
He had big hooves and could no longer catch the fast calves but he did teach me to rope and dog.
He had heart that reached into tomorrow.
I would sleep in the stall with him many times as being old he would lay down a lot and would curl his legs around me while I slept.
He died on my dads land where was living the retired life, teaching my little sisters how to ride now and then. I was in the military.
I was surprised at how much it hurt when I got the news of his passing.
