2 of 27

Write now Article Tools

Looking back, it was one of the toughest days of my life. I remember not even being able to believe that she was dieing and then minutes later that she was dead. This beautiful friend had become such a part of my life during the six years we were together that I couldn't imagine getting up the next morning without her around. Babe was an almost eight year old quarter horse on the day she died and she was my very best friend.

Babe and I had grown up together and learned together. I remember the day my father led her off the trailer as my belated birthday gift. I couldn't believe she was all mine. The training started immediately and it wasn't always easy. Babe threw me from her back more than once and I called her many names that I would never repeat as an adult, but as time went on, we began to understand each other.

Babe became very protective of me and would do anything to keep from stumbling or falling when I was on her back. In return, I took the best care that anyone could ever take of a horse including daily lumps of sugar or carrot pieces. When she was about four years old, I had Babe bred because it seemed like a natural thing to do and people had said it would calm her down.

Babe was a wonderful mother to her newborn colt and it wasn't long before Flicka turned into a wonderful horse like her mother. I guess the ease in which Babe had that first colt and the beauty of them both was what encouraged me to have her bred one more time a few years later. It was the worst decision I ever made and I have regretted it for many years.

The second time around, Babe had a beautiful little male that we named Ed. She didn't seem as interested in him as she had Flicka and within hours after his birth, I knew something was wrong. Although money was tight, my father agreed to call the local veterinarian and have them come and take a look. I could just feel something wasn't right. As Babe laid in the field that afternoon waiting for the veterinarian to come, I waited with her. I stroked her beautiful black mane and talked to her about all the fun times that we would have together once she felt better. We never got to have those times.

The veterinarian was young and insisted Babe had a slight case of colic. She told me to get her on her feet and keep her walking. I did as I was told and Babe seemed like she was in a great deal of pain. She would stumble and sweat, but I wanted to do what the veterinarian said was right. However, my dad and I knew something was terribly wrong and we got her in the barn and called another veterinarian out to the farm. It was too late.

By the time the second veterinarian arrived, Babe had been bleeding internally for hours and walking her had made it worse. The best we could hope for was that she would die quickly. My father instructed me to say good-bye and go in the house. Between the tears, I stroked her mane one last time and told her I would take care of Ed and Flicka. That was the last time I ever saw Babe. I did as I promised and raised her colts including bottle feeding Ed several times a day for months, but never could I attach myself to them like I had Babe and eventually I sold them to a friend before leaving for college.

There is nothing in the world like losing a horse you have connected with completely. Having Babe in my life was both one of the most amazing experiences and the most heart-wrenching that I have ever been through. Babe may have been a horse, but she was also a friend.

Learn more about this author, Karen Meeker.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Reflections: Death of a horse?
We want to hear your view. Write now!