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Their Lessons Are Never Lost
Thirty-nine years ago on Easter, I rode my amateur jumper, Jolly Man, for the first time. He was six years old and I was twenty. Jolly became my partner for the last six years of my show career, and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. Little did I know that Easter Sunday that we’d be together for 22 years.
Jolly’s arrival followed a disastrous year with another horse, Salty, who proved to be dangerous and down-right evil. I’d always felt all horses would respond to love and kindness; apparently not. Twenty-plus years later, my animal communication and healing abilities could have helped Salty, but our timing was off.
Jolly was the complete opposite of Salty; willing, friendly and anxious to please. Almost forty years later, I realize the Universe brought Jolly Man into my life to restore the balance Salty had disturbed. Life is always about balance and harmony.
Jolly returned to spirit four years before I began communicating, and his death contained several lessons that weren’t realized until much later. I struggled with the decision to euthanize Jolly for over four months. He was losing weight despite eating well. One of the downsides to helping our horses live longer is that they out-live their teeth.
We asked another vet that specialized in geriatric dentistry to help us with Jolly’s tooth issues. His teeth were worn, which created inefficient chewing. One tooth needed to be removed, which was excruciatingly painful. When I checked on him later that evening, I felt his severe discomfort. I wouldn’t learn for another four years that I was an empathetic healer and truly was feeling his pain. Watching someone I loved in great pain and believing that I caused it was agonizing. I felt totally responsible and consumed with guilt.
We did everything we could to make Jolly more comfortable, but it took four days before he ate and drank normally. We hydrated him with fluids by stomach tube until he began drinking. I chastised myself constantly during that time for allowing this to happen to my old friend. Jolly never treated me any differently and found comfort in the time I spent trying to sooth and console him (and me).
I kept trying to justify our decision to remove his tooth in an effort to assuage my guilt. We did what we thought was best for Jolly; what would allow him to stay longer. Eventually, I accepted that all one can do is make the best decision at the time with the information available, and we felt the dental procedures were in Jolly’s best interest.
Sadly, the painful dental work improved his chewing for only two weeks. It wasn’t fair that such a wonderful being suffered so much pain for so little benefit, but then, “Who said life is fair?” We tried to help, but failed. It was so disheartening.
Again, I struggled with what was best for Jolly. The hardest decision is that of euthanasia, especially if the animal isn’t sick. Jolly would graze for a while, but spent most of the day standing with lowered head having lost interest in life. This difficult decision plagued me for over four months.
One evening, the student was ready. A portrait of Jolly in his prime hung over our bed; a Christmas gift from my folks. I studied the painting that night comparing it’s handsome subject to the thin, sad horse in the pasture. I knew with certainty what to do. Several days later, we sent Jolly Man back to spirit.
Every life experience is significant and contains lessons even if we don’t recognize them at the time. They’re never lost merely filed away for the proper timing. Jolly’s lessons were lost in the moment, but resurfaced in four years when the time was right.
After I discovered my animal communication and healing skills, I began thinking back to events of my past viewing them with “new eyes” to see what I’d missed. One of the most painful for me was the indecision surrounding Jolly’s euthanasia.
My new-found abilities changed my opinion of so many of my previous life experiences. The more animals I communicated with, the more I learned about life. The lessons that went unrealized from my past moved from the caverns of my memories to be seen in a new light.
After talking with an old horse that had been trying to tell his person that he’d been ready to go Home for a year, I was flooded with understanding. I now knew that Jolly had been doing the same thing. For those four difficult months, Jolly had been telling me he was ready to go Home. Thoughts that I’d interpreted as my own were telepathic communications from Jolly. Who knew?
So much of what happened towards the end of Jolly’s life would have been different had I known about my abilities at the time. I could have asked if he wanted his teeth worked on. I could have asked if he wanted to stay. While I felt bad about keeping him here for four months longer than he wanted, I do know that everything happens for a reason.
Finally receiving this lesson helped me release any residual guilt I may have been hanging onto over the painful dental procedure. While I had accepted that we’d done our best for him, I still deeply regretted his suffering. My new perspective allowed me to let go of all my self-imposed blame, guilt and regret.
Jolly Man’s transition had been a first for us. After injecting the usual amount of drug for his size, he slowly collapsed while I cried and lovingly guided his head to the ground. At this point, horses are unconscious and near death. Within moments, the heart stops and the deed is done, except with Jolly. His heart didn’t stop, and he was moving as though slowly running. I knew he was unconscious and felt no pain, but it was excruciating to watch.
While my husband ran for more solution, I sat flooded in tears with Jolly. In my heart, I knew my decision had been right but agonizing doubt filled me. This heartrending memory plagued me for years until a dying broodmare came to my rescue
After I started working as an animal communicator, I’d often feel torn between roles; the vet’s wife and the communicator. As the vet’s wife, we were all about saving lives. As the communicator, I soon learned that it’s not always about healing the physical.
We were working with a client’s broodmare with serious medical issues. While my husband was doing everything humanly possible to save this mare’s life, she was telling me she wanted to return to Spirit. I felt her increasing sadness, since her people weren’t listening to her wishes. My allegiance is always with the animal, so I told her if she wanted to transition then she had to create something that couldn’t be healed.
Late the next night, the phone rang. My husband announced that another seizure may have broken the mare’s shoulder. As we rushed to her, I thought about my recent advice. Her shoulder was broken, and she was euthanized immediately. Secretly, I was happy for her, because I knew her desire to go Home.
Astonishingly, the mare needed extra solution to stop her heart and free her soul. As I felt her soul release, I thanked her for the knowledge that I’d made the correct decision years earlier. I felt a burden lift from my heart that I’d been carrying since that sad day. This only happened twice in almost 30 years of euthanizing horses. There was no coincidence. Through this broodmare, the Universe provided me with the gift of understanding.
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Comment by Nancy A. Kaiser on May 22, 2010 at 11:05am
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Sorry to take so long to respond, but I've had a busy week helping people and their pets deal with various difficulties. As I said before, each soul chooses when it will transition. While we may cringe as the circumstances some animals endure while waiting for their people to be ready to release them, it is between those souls and not our place to judge. I believe one of the most important facets of my communication business is helping animals and their people during this most difficult time. It's always about lessons. As long as the lessons are acknowledged, any "suffering" that occurs is neutralized. I've learned that the soul can remove itself almost entirely from the physical form in order to avoid pain & suffering. Just enough energy remains to allow the physical form to continue to function. So, what we're perceiving with the naked eye isn't exactly what is happening. Letting go is a hard lesson to embrace even when you understand reincarnation and the workings of the soul. I am just as distraught as the next person when one of my own animals is leaving. I'm privy to much at the time of transition that the average person isn't. My skills allow me to focus on the energy of the soul as it lets go. The feelings are beyond anything we experience with our 5 senses. The senses of joy, exhilaration and freedom is beyond what our language can describe. So, please realize that there is a method to the madness and everything happens for a reason. The individuals involved have agreed to the experiences on a soul level. Sharing ones own experiences with transition with someone struggling to let go is admirable, just stay out of judgment. Again, thanks for the heartfelt comments!
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Thank you all for these wonderful comments. I'll address each as soon as i can. I have an appt for car servicing this am. You all have made very good points. By the number of comments I can see this is a very important topic. I will share more of what they've taught me over the years.Till later...
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Comment by Jackie Cochran on May 17, 2010 at 8:01am
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This mare got to roam free around the barn, and she had learned that I am a sucker for Arabs and would curry her back, so she would come up to me and present her side. When she could no longer go on she instead came up to me head on and "got in my face".
Horses decide HOW they will communicate with us. It is a lot easier to read them once you realize that the state of each muscle is like a word, and the way a horse holds its body, with the tensions in each muscle, itself is a full sentence, and sometimes a paragraph. I hope this makes some type of sense! Anyway, I find horses very expressive, people focus on faces, but horses do the equivalent expressions with their whole bodies.
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Comment by 4XChestnut on May 16, 2010 at 9:29pm
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Three years ago my QH started dropping weight for no apparent reason. In two weeks he was down over 50lbs according to the weight tape. I taped him twice a week and every time he was down. I wondered if he was telling me it was time to go. Otherwise he was his normal self showing none of his "I'm in pain" signs. I told him that if it was time for him to go I would help. I asked him to stick around for the summer and told him that when it was time he should start dropping weight again and I'd figure it out - it might take a week or two, but I'd get it. He promptly regained the weight and was fine through the following winter and summer.
Last fall I knew it was not fair to ask him to go through another winter. Too many signs pointed to trouble coming and so I made the decision to euthanize. He wasn't losing weight at the time, but he'd never regained what he'd lost in the previous winter. I knew well in advance and spent much time with him in the last weeks. I took care to tell him that it was okay for him to go on, and that I would be okay, he mustn't worry about me as I understood it was his time to go. And I arranged for his human friends to come and say their goodbyes at some point in that last month.
He knew what was coming, and he was ready the day the vet came. There was no fear, only a faint surprise when his legs would no longer hold him up. There was no fighting for breath, only some few implosive autonomous system demands for air. I stayed with him throughout, reminding him that it was okay, he should go, to leave the pain and fear behind as they did not define him.
It is our responsibility to release our friends before they are enduring life. My first horse taught me that lesson and I did let him go before he got into difficulties. Many horsepeople need to learn the lesson the hard way by waiting too long. I am somewhat scarred by the tales published in horse magazines of heroic efforts to prolong the life of a beloved (but suffering) horse even when there was no hope of improvement. My first horse taught me to identify when "it's not going to get any better than it is now", to think about what makes things worse and project when those triggers might occur. He taught me to see my horse and be aware of when some occasional sign of difficulty has become the norm. He taught me to let go for love - I loved him too well to watch him suffer.
My second horse, my QH, added to those lessons by teaching me how to ease the passing through preparation. I wrote a blog during his last months and afterwards about the process and this helped me to put into words the lessons I was learning from him. The two most important are:
1. The question is not "Can I keep him going through another winter/year?" but rather "Should I keep him going?" Is it fair to ask the horse to go on just because I can keep him going a while longer?
2. I am not ready to let him go. I will never be ready to let him go. So I need to help him go when it is his time.
http://endgame-journeys-end.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-so-it-begins.html
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We always felt it was the last great gift we could give them. I watched my father starve to death over an 8 day period when his stomach cancer took him. The best i could do for him was a morphine patch. It was heartbreaking.
You are communicating with them whether you believe you are or not. We all have the ability to do telepathic communication. It's the belief that most people lack.
Animals are truly selfless and will go through horrible circumstances in order to give their people the time they need to let go. It is each soul's choice as to when it leaves.
Thanks so much for sharing!
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I have seen many animals who should have been let go but whose owners kept them around for whatever reason.
One mare I knew, her owner knew that she would have to go soon, and told her mare that she (the mare) would have to tell her (the owner) when she was ready to go.
It did not happen. The mare got worse and worse. I then told the mare to tell ME when it was time to go, as I got a feeling that the mare was worried that her owner would collapse when she told her. Very soon after the horse told me she could not take it any more and I told the owner, who finally arranged to put her down (and the mare cooperated fully with the procedure.)
Very often I've seen animals hanging on in pain, desperately trying to hang on to life because they know that their owners will feel great pain if the animal asked to be put down. This is not fair to the animal. This--putting the animal down--is part of our responsibility--there are no convenient large predators running around to do the job any more. Yes, it hurts, but when I saw my father dying after many years of deterioration, I often wished that we could put our human loved ones down when they experience great suffering.
I am not an animal communicator. It is just sometimes horses can get through to me.
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