My alarm woke me up around 9:00 AM. I looked out the window, excited to see the radiant sun shining, instead of the bleak, overcast autumn days occurring over the last week. Then I remembered what I had to do that day. My mood changed from excitement, to dread, and sadness all in that abrupt realization. Reluctantly, I got dressed and ready for the day, then walked outside.

A few, scattered clouds contrasted the pure blue sky like the spots on a dalmatian, and the sun gleamed bright from the east. A slight breeze shook the brittle leaves left on the trees, the air unusually warm for the beginning of November. I walked across the brown grass of our front yard towards the barn with my black lab, Thai, trailing at my heels. As I neared the paddock I was greeted with soft nickers of greeting from Shiloh, Ty, Hank, and Jimmy. I grabbed my favorite blue halter from the barn, caught Jimmy and brought him inside the barn still filled with the sweet smell of fresh hay. At the matured age of twenty-nine he had been retired from barrel racing for a couple years. He patiently waited as I collected brushes and treats for him. After brushing out his thick, midnight black mane and tail, I cleaned out his feet and began working the dust out of his dark bay coat. I lovingly rubbed the soft, white half moon between his eyes, surrounded by speckles of gray that spread down to his muzzle, up over his ears and down most of his neck. Although his age was wearing him down, his sweet, loving personality still shows each day. I fed him three of his favorite apple flavored treats and as always, he nudged my arm looking for more. My stomach dropped to my feet when I heard a truck pull up outside and knew instantly that the vet had arrived on time.

Dr. Isaacson stepped out of his truck and gently shut the door. He glanced through the sliding double doors at the front of the barn, in his right hand he held a large medical bag.

“This must be Jimmy,” He said questioningly.

“It sure is,” I replied softly through the bitter taste in my mouth.

Together, my family and I picked out a spot for Jimmy in our back field. To the south and east of the field, tall poplar trees stood out like skeletons against the sky, already stripped of their yellow leaves. The west side is bordered by three lines of now mature pine trees planted by the previous owners. I lead Jimmy out of the barn and we slowly walk down the driveway towards the field. He prances with a bounce in his step, no doubt brought on by the warm weather. With his large, thoroughbred ears pricked forward and his signature mischievous expression showing in his eyes, he followed me down the driveway while birds sang in the trees and the brisk smell of autumn surrounds us. The last walk passed in slow motion that didn’t move quite slow enough. I led him into the grassy field and came to a halt near the back next to Dr. Isaacson.

”Don’t worry, this won’t hurt,” Isaacson said as he stroked Jimmy’s neck.

I looked at the ground, trying to keep my composure and wondering if his words were also meant for me.
I wished I had more time with him but I knew it wouldn’t be fair to try to push his frail body through another blistery winter. I think back on all of the good memories and lessons this horse has taught me. He was more wise than it seems any animal should be and had the most charming and lovable, yet mischievous personality. My heart ached and eyes watered at the loss of not just a pet but a friend. I’ll always be grateful for every minute I spent with him. Spending his last few hours spoiling him was relaxing and helped me process and begin to accept that he would be in a better place.

After I said my final goodbyes to Jimmy I walked back to the barn with the blue halter in hand. I glanced down and saw the trail of hoof-prints that led from the barn to the field. In a short time the prints will wash away and grass will grow over the freshly dug up dirt, but the impact that a clever, wise , and gentle old horse left on a young girl won’t fade.