Pepper

I wrote this post in the summer of 2012. By the end of the summer, I still had no home for Pepper and I realised that, despite my tough words, I wasn’t ready to euthanise him. My kind friends, Denise and John, came to the rescue and cared for him since September 2012. He had a happy seventeen months on their farm in West Cork, before being hit with a seemingly mild colic last Monday. The vet came and the prognosis was not good – surgery was the only option. Well, surgery is not an option for a 28 year old pony. There was no decision to be made.
The vet spoke to me to explain the situation. I gave the ok and was stunned at how upset I was. Denise gave Pepper one last hug from me and they helped him through his final minutes.
Thanks, Pepper, for all the fun and games throughout your life! Thanks Denise and John, for looking after him so well and for prolonging his life by seventeen months. I will forever be in your debt for that.
(By the way, Denise, all previous debts for 2am emergencies are now repaid in full.  And then some)

Tails From Provence

It’s strange to be able to say of a pony “I knew his father well” but I could truthfully say that about our Pepper!

Pepper’s father Glen was a 14.2, dark bay, part Connemara pony who had been gelded late, at five years of age.  He ended up in the riding school where I trained for my BHSAI and lived out his days there.  At first, he was lively and sparky, and only used for working pupils and experienced riders.  If you were told you were riding Glen, your heart beat faster and you knew you were in for some exciting moments, especially when jumping!  He settled down over the years, eventually becoming one of the stalwarts who knew exactly what to do at every point in every lesson.

A young girl who lived next door to the riding school and was a regular helper eventually became the proud owner…

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9 thoughts on “Pepper

  1. …For if the horse be well remembered, if sometimes he runs through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, it matters not at all where that horse sleeps at last. It is all one to the horse and all one to you, and nothing is lost – if memory lives.
    …For he will come to you when you call – come to you over the dim frontiers of death, and down the well remembered path and to your side again.
    …And though you call a dozen living horses, they should not be threatened, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs here. People may scoff at you,who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his hoof, who hear no high pitched whinny too fine for mere audition; people who have never really loved an animal.
    …Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them and which is well worth knowing. The best place to bury a horse is in the heart of his master.
    (paraphrased from a Tribute to Ginn Fizz, by Laurie)
    RIP Pepper

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