Angry

cropped ri

So by now I think most everybody knows that Riona colicked and died on Wednesday (Aug11).  I have not been able to update the blog and I’m in no mood to do a whole detail rich post in my normal style.

Today, 4 days later, it is still very raw.

Riona was a great mare and I’m so very angry that I only had a short time with her. 

I’m angry that my vet blew me off when I asked why she was having so many little colics.

I’m angry because I feel like I did something that compromised her health and caused her death.

I’m angry that there’s some laughing deity that felt it would be a great lark to take yet another of my horses.

I’m angry that my brilliant mare is laying 10ft down in a clay grave.

When she was pregnant I made all sorts of deals with her…. I promised her I would never breed her again if she would have a safe delivery.  (I did not breed Ri, she was bred when I bought her).  I talked to her about all the fun things we were going to do… hacks and paces and trail rides… nothing crazy… just fun times.  And she would lean her big massive head against my chest and snort “yeah right”.

I spent hours with her the week or so before Bingley was born, sitting on a bucket and fretting over her and the weird little colic she was having then.  I called the vet 5 times I think… he blew me off the first time and never returned my call afterwards.

I worried over her after Bingley was born when she didn’t seem to gain weight.  I worried so much about her before and after Bingley was born that I started having migraines… All I wanted was for her to be ok.

I spared no expense with Ri.  She cost a mint to feed, but I never even allowed for arguments where that was concerned.  Whatever she needed I gladly and whole heartedly bought.

But it didn’t matter.  Nothing I did mattered. 

She died and most likely it was something I did.  Maybe it was the hay, although she only had the finest quality from one of the most reputable dealers in the world I think… but maybe the vet was right and the round bale contributed to her death.

Maybe I didn’t soak her beet pulp and alfalfa long enough.

Maybe her water tank had gotten too hot in this heat wave we’ve been having.

Maybe the morning she died, if I’d even looked into the pasture instead of being annoyed that I had to go to the feed store…. maybe I would’ve seen her before things got so bad. 

Maybe if I deserved her she would still be here.

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