Tripper's Day

Tripper and Dad

Tripper is in spirit and he is 23 years old today, May 15.  We all celebrated him today, even the few who didn't know him on this earth.

He was a noble horse, so stoic, proud, full of horsepower and full of incredible love.  Tripper was my first horse.  He taught me to love in a fuller, richer and more open way.

I have said many times before and I most certainly will say it again, he was my friend.

My Friend (and Jess the dog)

When I brought Shadow home, his eyes looked up at me and they were alive with old souls.  I could feel them and I could see them in his eyes.

On occasion when Shadow and I are walking, he will come beside me and put his nose in my hand, just as Tripper used to do. Aside from the 1,000 pound difference between them, I sense Tripper.  Tripper is so present and Shadow is the generous host.

Tripper and Alibi

Alibi and Tripper were good friends.  When Alibi became my horse, I moved him and Tripper to the same pasture.  It was anybody's guess who would be the dominant horse.  Tripper gave Alibi a good run for his money and hung in as the alpha as long as he could.  Eventually Alibi moved in, as he does.  But there always remained respect.  Today, Alibi sighed a birthday wish to Tripper.

In my bedside table drawer is a braided heart of Tripper's tail hair.  It's beautiful and lasting.  Fitting for my friend.

Healing a Heartache

Larry and I are in our new home and we are happy, comfortable and so pleased with the remodel results and having air conditioning at 85 degrees.

At the same time we both are feeling a profound sadness. An emptiness that aches and aches on.

On Friday, the day we were moving, in a matter of 3 hours I was faced with the most shocking and unexpected and extremely difficult decision of kissing Tripper one last time as he went off to horse heaven.

So much of what we created here at Om Ranch was created with Tripper in mind. From the fencing to the dry lot to rock collection and pathways. For some reason he wasn't meant to come here. I cannot grasp the why.

Many beautiful things have been said about Tripper and they all hold truth. He was strong and stoic and most other horses with the level of pain he had would be on the ground rolling. He stayed strong for me and did not want me to see his pain. He is in horse heaven under a shade tree with our neighbor horse Twist. His body was giving out a year and half ago and it was his spirit that came alive again to carry him this far. He regained his dignity, something very important to horses, and he died with dignity.

I cannot put words to the pain I feel in my heart.

Tripper opened a part of my heart that I didn't realize existed. He invited me to love in a different way. Without his daily encouragement I feel lost. Can I continue what he has shown me on my own?

Friday morning I went out to greet my boys as usual and I did not see Tripper's ears perking up over the hay and I did not hear his familiar good morning nicker. Alibi and Pippin were there, but not Tripper. I went looking for him up in lava land, a place he never went because the rocky surface was too much on his senior bones.

The gate is at one end of the dry lot so I started calling him and walking in. Some ways in I could see him walking toward my voice. As soon as he saw me, he went down. I ran to him and found him scratched and scraped from head to hoof from rolling around on the ground trying to ease his abdominal pain. He had been in pain for a while.

Gently I got the halter around his confused head and worked with him to get him up. Carla, a gal boarding her horses there, came up to help me and the two of us kept him walking. Pippin and Alibi were behind us, encouraging him to keep going. We got him up to the barn and put him in the round pen to keep him going.

He wanted to lie down and roll again and we had to work hard to not allow that. I called the vet and it seemed to take hours before they arrived. A call for colic is an emergency response.

When they arrived they did a preliminary exam and Tripper's heart rate was dangerously high. They gave him medication to ease the pain. They gave him a sedative so they could put a tube up his nose and down his throat. They had to give him a second dose and still he seemed not to be too sedated. He was a gentleman while they did what they had to to assess his condition.

We walked him back down through the dry lot and through the gate of Jeff and Barb's place to use their trailer. Every horse along the way was calling out to him. He didn't have the energy to walk but he did and he kept going. A good 1/2 mile.

After some other tests, it was determined that part of his small intestine had died, most likely due to a lipoma that cut it off. Apparently, this is somewhat common in senior horses. Surgery didn't suggest high positive odds and even if the surgery did go well, his expected time would maybe be a year.

I had to decide fairly quickly because if we wanted to do surgery, we had to do it right away. There was no knowing how much of his small intestine was affected until the surgery and then only so much of it could be removed.

Tripper stayed standing the entire time. He moved as he was asked. He was polite and kept his manners. I couldn't stop holding him and kissing him and comforting him. I asked him to comfort me.

I held Tripper until his last breaths. When he was gone, I stayed with him for a while just caressing him and playing with his very soft mane. I kissed him again and felt that little bump in his forehead that I felt everyday and I smelled his fresh sweet coat, a combination I enjoyed every day for a year and a half. With my eyes closed I could tell you it was him.

Later when I got back home I went up to lava land to see where he was and what he had experienced. I didn't realize it until then that he was behind my house. He came looking for me.

He never made it to our new home. Here we remember him and talk about him often and we cry. It was a shock. And it is a deep loss that we will feel for a very long time.

I miss my friend. I miss my horse. I miss that part of my heart being touched every morning.

Happy Birthday Tripper

So much time has passed since my last blog. A crashed hard drive, new computer, printer isn't compatible, itunes not backed up... I have been computer-phobic for a while.

Today is Tripper's birthday. So, all the bad computer poo poo must be pushed aside so I can post his photo and write a bit about him.

Tripper is my Quarter Horse and he is 21 years old today. A Taurus for sure. And a sweet sweet horse.

He was here at the ranch when we arrived a year and a half ago. He was in a dry lot with several other horses, one of them the alpha mare who was relentless in her attacks on him. She would chase him from food and water, bite him, kick at him, she would seek him out and separate him from the group.

His coat looked mangy and dull. He was missing hair all over from being bit. He was in pain when he walked from aging bones and the winter cold. His eyes were sad and his spirit broken. The ranch owners (not his owner) said it was likely he wouldn't survive that winter.

It couldn't be. I moved Tripper from the dry lot to a pasture in front of my house. Larry and I showered him with attention and love and positive energy. We brought in another horse, Slammer, who is everyone's friend to give him a little company and a feeling of safety in numbers.

As spring came around and the grass started greening, Tripper ate up the sweet growth giving him the protein and carbs he desperately needed. We watched him get stronger and stronger as the weeks went by.

I groomed him regularly and his coat began to fill in and shine. I worked him in the round pen to regain his strength and reestablish a sense of purpose and pride in his accomplishments.

His owners came to visit one day and walked straight past him calling out toward the dry lot "Tripper!" "Tripper!" Tripper walked up to the fence in response and watched as this couple continued walking, not recognizing their revitalized horse.

After a series of events, not necessary to explain, they decided to sign Tripper over to me as his new owner. I received his papers--which are very interesting to read. This was this past January.

The ranch owners saw him a couple of months back and said, "He is a completely different horse. He has gained at least 5 years on his life." Of course, I look forward to more than 5 years.

Tripper is now healthy, steady, confident, happy, proud, willing and a real love. We have a great time together be it in the round pen, grooming, or just walking around picking up poop in the separate dry lot he shares with Alibi (another story!)

So today, when he turned 21, I had to give thanks and celebrate. I love having him as my horse. I look forward to going out to see him several times a day. I get so excited when he learns something new, even at his age, and I admire his pride when he recognizes what he's done. And I thank him for trusting me to care for him. We both won big.

Tonight he got his evening bucket of barley and oats and glucosamine, with a special topping of many many chopped orange circles. His own birthday carrot cake.

Happy Birthday Tripper!

Back in the Saddle Again

This robin keeps appearing just across the lawn, perched on the fence between our house and the guest house. His belly is copper red. Just about every time I look over there, he's there. I'd like to think he is a sign of spring, but I'm not so sure he ever left.

It is almost one week ago that I returned to Bend. I wondered what it would be like to come back after being away just about 5 weeks. Would the animals still remember me? Would all my training have gone out the window? Would I still be so enamored by ranch living?

Thankfully, a resounding yes to just about 3 out of 3. Some minor retraining is in order.

The weather has been very agreeable. We haven't had full on sunshine each day, but at least some sun and it's been warm for January. The other day was 56 degrees with bright sun--that feels close to 70 in most other parts. The nights have not dropped down to the 20s or teens, or even much into the 30s. There are trade offs: cloud cover = warmer nights but no star gazing.

We have 3 new horses on the ranch: High Note, a very sweet gentle gray Arabian, Belle, a rather stout dark bay Quarterhorse, and Zak, the fiesty bay, son of Belle. The addition of these 3 has shifted the hierarchy in the dry lot. And in my absence, Lola has taken the lead role. What does this mean? Alibi does not come to the fence to greet me before eating. He has been pushed back in the pack, literally and in the food receiving line. Rest assured, he is just as kind and loving as he was before I left. Now, I have to feed everyone first and then go out to exchange affections with him.

The chickens are still going strong. We are grateful that we got the "cold hardy" breeds. I suppose it wouldn't do the feed stores any good to sell anything but that. It was luck on our part, we didn't know any better at the time. I must reiterate, it is an absolute joy to go collect eggs and have fresh farm eggs for cooking. We bought eggs at the super in Long Beach---hardly appealing.

The other day I checked out the garden and harvested a big sack of carrots! Yes, we still have carrots in the ground. They are in a raised bed, so they have a much better winter survival rate. I shared them with the chickens, the horses and my neighbors and still have a few in the refrigerator. I gave the garden a little water and left one or two more pickings in the ground.

Felon has become accustomed to sleeping in our mudroom at night. Well, she thinks she should be in there all day. I like going to bed knowing she is warm and cozy inside and it gives me a sense of security knowing she's in the house. On occasion, I let Jess come indoors during the day. He is a smelly boy, but it keeps him from tearing up the barn or the seat of the electric cart--ay ay ay.

And Pooker is happy as a lark to be back home. She did really well at our friends' house and she was well cared for. For the first couple of days, she would not leave my shoulder. It was all about reconnection and not letting me out of her sight. I would walk to the bedroom and she'd call out to me the minute she couldn't see me. Yesterday she decided to spend no less than 4 hours in the pantry. No kidding. I went in there, she wanted down, I put her on the shelf with cans and boxes and there she stayed. She just loves to walk on all the textures a pantry has to offer and she likes to "hide" on top of something tall. It puts her close to the next shelf up, making the open space smaller.

I put bird seed out and have seen one bird come in a couple of times. The others will be back. They are around, I hear them. I suppose it will take a few days for them to realize the food has returned.

In a sense I feel like an Italian grandmother: I feed all the hungry mouths and they happily eat up what is served and they love me for it. Don't they say food is the way to one's heart?