Tears in My Noodles

Things haven't changed much around here in the last few days.  The wind is still blowing at dirt and manure in your eyes speed.  It's cold.  And I'm darn right sick of it.  I'm fighting to see Spring at the end of the dirt road.  Yesterday came and went, leaving me crying in my noodles at dinner.

After yet another vet visit, I was informed that it was time to put one of our horses down.  This horse has been fighting pneumonia since we first bought him (of course I buy a horse that comes down with pneumonia moments after the purchase).   After a hospital stay and weeks of antibiotics, he just can't kick his illness and it's slowly killing him.  This horse was supposed to be the horse my youngest daughter graduated too.  This was the horse who's perfect height suited me, my fear of heights, and being thrown off said heights.  He was to be our "game changer", our future sunset river trail riding horse, our fuzzy, warm, cuddly Sparrow.  But after months of a vet kindly entertaining my "I will save this horse or die myself" efforts I am ready to surrender to what I actually knew was coming.  

Sparrow on a snowy day.  Camera Hog!

Now, this isn't my first rodeo.  I've dealt with a dead horse before (more on that later), and like before, I will remind myself of the dreaded circle of life, and move on to other fish in the sea or horses in the pasture.  I've toughened up since we moved out here to where animals and gardens die, but the world keeps turning.  But the trials and tribulations of farm life it hit me last night.  It hit me at the exact moment I was to politely look at our waitress and order my bowl of comforting carbs.  I burst out into tears, nudged my husband, pointed to what I wanted and buried my face (my kids stared at me like my hair turned an ugly shade of purple and green).  Apparently, I'd had enough, and my emotions forgot to give me the heads up that the flood gates were about to open allowing tears to over flow and soak our table.  There was no holding back.  No keeping it together even though  we are in public.  I had no control.  My hormones made up there mind and joined forces with my emotions.  My husband instinctively ordered me a drink as if it was going to not only dry my tears but cure my horse.  I cried through the appetizers, and cried in my bowl of noodles, adding a bit of salt.  My poor kids.  Their mommy was bawling at dinner in public.  Their mommy was sobbing and snorting as if she was an irrational two year old who didn't get the red bowl and yellow cup, but the yellow bowl and red cup.  Did I mention that moments before I shoved my five children in the car to go to the restaurant, our purposeful bird dog did his job off the clock and killed TWO MORE of my chickens?  Shame on those ignorant chickens for getting out of their fenced yard and in the sights of our over zealous bird dog.  

So, today,  I am two chickens short and a few fateful days away from having one less horse to gaze at in our beautiful green pastures.  I'm recalling the way our vet said how it would all go down.  Pretty simple really.  "Bring him in.  We will put him down.  Just make sure you arrange for a hauler to come get him."  Let's see, how does one look up "hauler" in the yellow pages?