Chronicle

My Heart Belongs 2 Chica.

It has ever since I first test-rode her 11.5 years ago- February 19, 2001. I can remember her former owner pulling up with her in the trailer, unloading her, and handing her to me to walk in. "Make her keep up with you while walking, otherwise she's going to lag behind." I abruptly pulled her up even with me, and we WALKED. To the cross ties. Did this horse cross tie, you might wonder? "Don't they all?" my little 13 year old self would have responded. Saddle her up, walk her to the arena. My then-trainer popped on her and rode off. Uneventful. No bucking. No rearing. "I had a barrel racer at my barn jump on her this morning to see how she would ride," I heard her owner say. "She hasn't been ridden in a year." Meanwhile, my trainer was trying to get her to canter. Trot, trot, trot. The little pony was NOT cantering.

Finally, it was my turn. I remember thinking once I was on how weird it felt to be sitting on this horse, this horse that could soon be MINE. She felt different, despite wearing the saddle I had owned the last year. Off we went. I had no fear at the time; I would ride anything and everything. That horse that just flipped over in the cross ties? Put me on it. This horse that hadn't been ridden in a year? No sweat. What was there to fear? I asked her to canter, and, after maybe 3 trot steps, we were doing it. I can't explain how grateful I was to Chica for cantering immediately with me, when she wouldn't hardly do it at all with the more experienced trainer.

She was mine. I cried. I went and turned her out with an Arabian gelding, and back to school I had to go, where I smugly told my "nemesis" that I now owned a horse. I also could concentrate on a grand total of nothing for the rest of the day.

Come that evening, I was back out at the barn to show off my new pony. We rode in the arena, and then went out in the pasture with two friends. The three of us decided to race- and Chica almost bucked me off. I was a bit unsettled- no horse had really bucked with me at the time. It brought something new to the table, in a dangerous way.

Fast forward a week, and I was riding my brand new horse in a parade. A stupid decision, looking back on it, but she was wonderful. I had a blast.

Fast forward 6 months. I had moved Chica out to a place that was pretty far away from my house, along with all of my horse friends, due to everyone getting kicked out of our previous barn. We trail rode all the time, chased cows, raced down the miles-long driveway. Visits started getting less frequent due to the distance, and it started showing in my little pony's attitude.

Fast forward another 6 months, and I was terrified of my horse. If I was leading her, she'd suddenly "freak out", jerk away from me, and tear off. If I was trying to get on her from the fence, she'd take off bucking and throw me. Same thing if I was already on and asked for the canter. I had a nightmare that she attacked me in her pasture and repeatedly threw me into the side of her shelter. Coincidently, she had suddenly turned and run me down that day. My dad was frustrated, because he didn't want to pay to "board a big dog". I was frustrated, because I loved my horse, but I couldn't do anything more than groom her without having a panic attack.

2002: I was a sophomore, and I was starting to get more into boys that going out to see my witch of a horse. I probably would have gotten out of horses all together, except the thought of sending my horse to live with strangers made me feel horrible. Fortunately, I met up with a lady who thought I should meet her trainer, a wonderful lady named Connie. She even trailered Chica out for my first (and many subsequent) lesson. Looking back, that lesson was hilarious. Connie had us ride in the roundpen. We walked and trotted, and things were going well. I had expected that she knew about all of our problems, and she just wanted to see us interact together. Then, she asked me to canter. And I fell apart. She gaped at me while I sat there, sobbing. I don't know what she saw in a little girl whose confidence was completely shattered or her hellion of a horse who was sloppy and had a bad attitude, but for some reason, she took us on.

2003-2006: We slowly became hunter under saddle superstars. Who knew either of us would ever be riding English? Due to Chica's coloration, we were easily recognizable at shows. We even had a little fan club. People would come up to us at shows and talk like we were great friends, which I enjoyed, although I thought it was a little weird. I even had some girls recognize me at work as "the girl who shows Chica". Chica was always on her best behavior at shows, and it seemed I was always on my worst. I know I was not pleasant to be around. Even if I won, I could still find something to nit-pick apart.

2007: We won Grand Champion in the hunter under saddle class. Finally. After handfuls of Reserve Champion ribbons, I finally had that trophy. We were also Reserve High Point that year.

2008: Chica came down with a persistant lameness in her left front foot. X-rays were not definitive, and we decided to put her on Corta-flx. Lameness went away after a couple of weeks.

2009- March 2011: Lameness persisted off and on, worsening in 2011. During good months, we'd attend occasional shows, trail ride, jump small jumps, "run" barrel patterns. During bad months, I'd develop stomach ulcers from worry.

April 2011- December 2011: Lameness really bad, first joint injections required. "Navicular" brought up, options discussed. Chica better until October 2011. Chica unable to move December 2011, more injections required. Navicular confirmed.

April 23, 2012- June 2012: More injections needed. Chica only so-so afterwards. Starts getting worse first weeks of June.




Which brings me to today, June 21, 2012. I finally called Chica's vet for the past 11 years to get her opinion, as I trust her more than any other vet. There aren't many options other than nerving, a $1000 procedure. There is a possibility of starting her on Pentosan, a cheaper option, but without more research, I don't know if it will do any good.

Let's just say, it was a bad day to wear make-up.

I hate seeing my horse like this. She used to be so vivacious, such a you-know-what at times. Now she looks depressed all the time. I feel like she has aged so much in the last year. It breaks my heart to pieces. I expected her to be around into her 20s- we'd still be riding, she could be my "have fun"/trail horse... we could do extreme trail ride competitions... well, maybe not, but I think together we would be great at that kind of stuff. It's scary to me to realize that, once I lose her, with her goes my security, my hard work, everything we've accomplished together. It will be like it never happened. I'll have to develop new bonds with new horses and work years to accomplish what she and I have done together. How many horses will I be able to walk up to in the pasture and just jump on and lay down, while looking at the stars? How many horses will stand there and "watch over me" while I sit at their feet and cry about all of my problems, rather than eating their hay? How many horses will come when called, but only if I put a lot of venom into their name (aka, "CHICA. COME. HERE. NOW. OR ELSE." "Oh, ok mom! Why didn't you say so?").

This is all stressing me out so much. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I wish someone else would make the decisions. I wish there was a magical cure for her. I wish the insurance would cover something like this for once in their lousy lives. And I know, everybody says similar things when watching one of their loved ones waste away. I just never thought I'd be the person with the navicular horse, trying to decide which treatment would be the best. Having to make the best decision, while trying to keep to a budget. Letting money be a factor in what they decide, even though it makes them feel like a sorry jerk for doing so.

I haven't been able to sleep the last two weeks. I can hardly stand to look at Chica, I feel so guilty. I pray and pray for guidance, strength, comfort. What am I going to do, when Chica goes, and my heart goes with her?