Yet another poetic rambling courtesy of my alter ego -- Shakespeare "The Equine"

Farewell To Miss Fergs

Dedicated to the fiery Miss Fergs who succumbed to colic, February 13, 2011, age 22

Gone to gallop with the angels
In a place where spirits soar,
You can squeal to your heart’s content
As others pass through Heaven’s door.

 
Your last hours were a struggle.
We all sensed your dreadful pain.
With sad heart I felt you leave us
Never to return again.

 
So I bid you fond farewell, dear,
Now your life here is complete.
Rest in peace, my darling girlie,
Til one day again we meet.

 
*

It wasn’t a very happy Valentine’s Day in our barn. Any joy we might have felt was blown away on the gusts of a terrible wind as we mourned the immense loss of the barn diva, Seville, aka “Miss Fergs.”

Affectionately referred to as “The Madam” she ruled the roost and none of us were allowed to forget it. She was the only mare in our small barn of boys and occupied a stall located next to the barn door. This world-dominating location put her in the perfect position to squeal disapprovingly every time one of us was lead past her stall, either coming in or going out. We loved her just the same.

I actually believe she had a soft spot for me; I know I had one for her. She had spirit, and I liked that. Whenever we worked in the arena at the same time she’d shimmy for me and give me the eye and I’d strut for her in response. It was such a game, and we loved it. I’ll miss her.

A lot of people thought Fergs was cranky, but in my heart I knew she just needed love. So when Gammy’s horse died a couple of years ago (Gammy is my pet name for my Godmother) it seemed logical that Fergs’ owner would ask Gammy to mother her sullen, old mare.

Gammy poured her broken heart into nurturing Fergs, and Fergs quickly learned to revel in Gammy’s special brand of love. It was wonderful to see them both so happy, though Fergs never lost her feisty ways. That would be too soft.

Lately Fergs had been having issues with her womanly attributes, coming into season frequently and intensely so it almost seemed like her body never had a chance to rest. (Those darn hormones take their toll on the older woman, don’t you know … .) Whether or not this had anything to do with her ultimate demise is hard to say, all I know is that suddenly on Sunday night she wasn’t feeling well in her tummy and two hours later, even after ministrations by the vet, she was galloping into the great beyond, never to return.

And we are left behind, bereft and sad.

RIP Miss Fergs …

Shakespeare “The Equine”

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011