FLINT

He died. 

She had him for a year. She scooped his poop. She fed him and watered him. She talked to him when she didn't have a friend. She played her flute to him and did her homework with him.  She loved him more than anyone could love anything. He took care of her. He was gentle with her. He was gentle with her brothers and sister. He helped her learn how to care for a giant animal. He is the only horse we would have trusted to care for our twelve-year-old. (Nate and I know nothing about horses and worse we have no desire to own, care for, or ride a horse. He was hers.) Who buys a horse and hands it over to their twelve-year-old and never checks on her or him again? We do. We trusted Sierra and Flint. 

He started losing weight rapidly, shortly after these pictures were taken. He was sick and we knew it. We started feeding him more grains and a senior mix. He was only fourteen years old. We didn't know how to help him. We called the vet. He came out and said Flint was fine. He recommended a few dietary adjustments, said he would be fine and left. A few weeks later he was worse. Sierra was worried about him all day.

She went out to his loafing shed and he was down and his breathing was shallow. She came to me and asked me what she was supposed to do. I flippantly said, "He is dying." I could see the anxious concern on her face. She wanted to call the vet. I didn't want to call in an emergency visit. The vet had just come to see him and said he was fine. I hesitated. She became super emotional. I called my friend Stacey who lives up the street. She told me to call another vet. She said he specialized in horses and would better be able to assess Fint. I called the vet. Stacey came over. She had just had a baby a few weeks earlier, but she came. She brought her son Rowdy. Flint kept laying down. We thought he had colic. Sierra walked him until the vet came. Rowdy is ten and Sierra is eleven. They worked so well as a team to keep that horse up. (Stacey and I were a little worried about him falling on one of them. We were right to worry. It was a tender mercy no one was injured.)

Thirty minutes later the vet arrived. He listened to Flint's heart and said he had a heart murmur. He was sick and he was dying. He looked Sierra in the eyes and said, "We have a stewardship over the animals that we love. When they are this ill. We put them down." You can talk it over with your mother and see what you would like to do. I saw tears starting to swell up in her eyes. I knew she knew what needed to be done. I said, "We don't need to talk about it. We will do the right thing."She ran into the house sobbing. Rowdy started crying. I told Stacey, "I am not an animal lover. I don't care if this horse lives or dies. I am a Sierra lover and this is killing me." I cried. The vet came back with a euthanasia shot in hand.  Sierra came up behind me. I said, "He had been a good horse. He doesn't deserve to die alone." She said through her tears, "Why do you think I came back?" 

The vet administered the shot. The horses head fell. Sierra fell. She laid on top of this majestic animal and wept. Her body convulsed huge heaving sobs. Stacey cried. Rowdy cried. I cried. 

The vet cried. He clipped a piece of Flint's hair and handed it to her. 

Rowdy helped her cover his body with a tarp. He was buried with a piece of her soul the next day. 

She has missed him deeply.