“Saying Goodbye to the Wish Colt”
I said goodbye to the last vestige of my childhood today. My first colt, the first horse I trained, the first horse I’ve ever watched die.

Daddy always said that I wished her on ol’ Mellie, ’cause the man who owned her assured us that she couldn’t be with foal. A lot they knew! They should have trusted that the old mare would share her secrets with a little girl!

Halley wasn’t necessarily easy to work with – you had to treat her with respect or she was liable to get even with you. She didn’t like to be tied by her head (but she didn’t wander off much anyway) and she had to be persuaded to get into a horse trailer (that, too, was easier when she knew she could trust you).

Nonetheless, she was strong and loyal, even-tempered, and willing to try most anything. She would pack people or deer, run and win endurance races (the race vet said she had a heart like a locomotive at age 21). She was the beginner 4-H horse for many a child (she could even win red ribbons running the barrels!) and she carried queens in parades and flags in the rodeo.

We spent her last day together. A last taste of green grass, a last brush and curry, a few apples. A few tears.

When the vet came, I led her away from the other horses. Gomez whinnied and paced and worried that she was leaving without him – little did he realize how far this last journey would take her.

The vet allowed as how she must have had good care to have come this far and still be in this good of shape. I thought back over the tribulations she had endured at our hands and cringed a little inside. But, alas, he confirmed my worst fears – another Mt. Pleasant winter would be agony to her. He offered a vial of eternal sleep.

Gomez screamed a last goodbye, Halley looked back in his direction, but (perhaps for the first time ever) she had no other response for him.

She didn’t flinch when the vet pierced her skin with the needle. The vial was huge, and it seemed that he pushed the plunger forever. Then we waited.

Finally, she staggered a little bit. She kind of sat down on her haunches, then she fell on her side. I took her halter off and stroked her face. Her ears would flicker when I spoke to her. Once in a while she would take a deep breath.

With tears streaming down my face, I begged the young vet not to let this go on forever – not to leave me alone with her until he was sure that she was gone.

Her locomotive heart and iron will just kept on going. Another vial. Another ten minutes. A last goodbye. Finally, the spark of life flickered out.

The end of an era.

© AJ Rogers