Life, art, and nature on Maryland's Eastern Shore.

Monday, March 11, 2013


Zoey left yesterday. I knew it would happen eventually, but it has taken a long time to find just the right place, so it was always off in the future. She went to Virginia, to a new career in a kids' camp. It's a job she's well suited for.
Abby, looking for her buddy.
I've known Zoey for 13 years. She has lived with me, off and on, for the majority of the six and a half years that we've had our own barn. Her mom, Alison, and our daughter have ridden together since they were six years old, but time flies and Al is now out west in grad school, so Zoey, like most first horses when their owners grow up, needed to find a new job. She is with one of Alison's college friends, so that is good, and she is leased, so she could potentially come back if it doesn't work out.
 I am left to console Abby who is more herd-bound than most mares and tends to have a hissy fit whenever her barn mate is out of sight. I had the vet leave a whopping dose of tranquilizer when she was here last, because horses are not known for their analytical skills when they're in a panic. Someday, I'll tell you about the time Abby tried to jump into her stall over the closed bottom half of the door and got caught. A horrifying day for everyone involved, but happy ending, so it's all good and she's fine. I am sure my emotional scars will heal. In time.

We assembled Zoey's extensive wardrobe (this mare has more clothes than I do), pulled her mane, and generally spiffed her up. No one leaves my barn unless they're fat and shiny. I would have liked to ride her one last time but my back is out of whack again, and I'm not very bendy.
Waiting for her ride.
Nesting birds will be thrilled with the pile of hair I pulled from Zoey's mane.
We got off to a rocky start this morning . Abby was more interested in running and calling for her buddy than she was in breakfast, but has settled down now and just looks sad. If I have to, I will borrow a horse or pony to babysit in the short run. Going to try and keep her very busy and tired now that the weather is improving.

Rolling in the mud helps, apparently.
As do kisses and gingersnaps from Dad.
I am weepier than I thought I would be. While Zoey has never technically been mine, I have grown to love her over the years. Mind you, she could be a grumpy old hussy, but we've had a lot of fun together. I will surely miss her and want to thank Alison for letting me keep her for so long. Goodbye and good luck, my Zoe-bug. Bittersweet.

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