Saying Good-bye to my sweet Mesa Blue

 *I wrote this piece last Thursday during one of my writing groups as I pondered the end of my journey with my Mesa Blue. She seems to have found a better place for her, but as I wrote to the 'What are you thinking about today' prompt, I couldn't help but remember and hope for her future.






    This morning I’ve been thinking about the drive I have tomorrow to take Mesa to Kentucky. I pray for an uneventful 7 hours there and another 7 home. I’ve been imagining myself in the darkness of the really early morning, loading her up, and heading away from Mason with Mesa. She was supposed to be my forever horse, my easy, short, dark, and dependable horse after the troubles and heartache of losing my sweet, monster sized Snickers. I’ve been thinking about how in many ways Mesa was exactly what I hoped for: easy to load, to haul, to unload; easy for the vet and mostly quiet for the farrier; and in the beginning, so damn great out on the trails. 


    

    I can’t stop thinking about the afternoon ride in Kensington, less than a week after I brought her home. Eighteen miles of hooting, hollering, gaiting, galloping, pulling trail marker sticks from the ground while still astride; how I leaned over, sat up, loped off waving the flags overhead with a solid mare beneath me. How an afternoon turned into overnight camping and a late moonlit ride through the woods with friends, my mare leading the way despite never having been there.   

           

    I also can’t stop thinking about how bubbled Mesa was, unblinking while tacking, how I had to continually ask for her acknowledgement. I remember how anxious she was at the mounting block…after the drugs of her previous owner were completely out of her system. I remember the saddle issues, her increasing jigginess on the trails, the sideways ground covering jumps, and all the times she chose to be alone rather than join me or even her pasture mates. As I asked her to participate in life, to join me in a partnership, the larger her demons became for her and the unhappier she seemed.   


            This morning, I’ve been thinking about tomorrow, hoping it all goes smoothly, that the gaited guy in Kentucky can help Mesa find a new home, in warmer territory, where she can find peace and live a long, calm life. By Saturday, this chapter of my horse life will be complete and I will be home safe and sound, drinking coffee in Michigan, and probably wondering about my sweet Mesa Blue.












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