Friday, November 23, 2012

Baasha al-Sherif


The day I most feared is now past. God took Baasha Monday night November 19, to be with his family and old friends.

I am not able to talk about this, but I'll try to type something for you.

Being Thanksgiving week, I am overwhelmed at the number of details that God manipulated for us that made it easier to handle, as horrible as it was.

Unexpected, unprepared, in shock, several little things happened that made a big difference in my tragedy. I wrote them down to not forget.


I got home from work at 6:45 and my man said immediately, "Baasha was lying down but I went out there and he got up." I went out to feed but no Baasha/Bellis. I cleaned up poop around the barn and did my food whistle, that they always come to. But I never have to use it at mealtimes so I started getting stressed. I especially got worried when I heard Bellis respond to my whistle in her food nicker. She hears me and she's not coming, and she's close. It was totally dark so I ran and got a flashlight and as I made my way out there, I saw Baasha down. The weird thing was, when I spoke to him, he jumped up and ran away from me. That never happens.

I ran to get my man for help but just as he came out, both animals had made their way to the barn, but Baasha had his nose on the ground and was in distress. Poison, tetanus, brain injury went through my mind at his odd behavior. He kept rushing around, nickering to ? and then dropping his head to the ground again. I let him in a stall but he ran right out. I frantically told my man to call a vet, any vet.

I had an extra bag of shavings and opened it up and pour it below my horse who was then trying to lie down, his legs buckling, but not sure what he wanted. I yelled at him to STAND so I could take his temperature, which was normal, and I made him stand until all those shavings were fluffed up beneath him. I removed his blanket. He was filthy with caked on black mud all over his body except where the blanket was, even his ears and eyelids were muddy.

His expression - he was not with us. He obeyed me but he was not here. He was completely inward and I'd never experienced that before. Why thankful? There was only one way for this to go and I did not have the torment of asking what my options could be.

My poor baby lay down groaning a high whine and kept trying to figure out which way lying hurt less. His legs were braced, and he kept looking at his stomach. I say looking but his eyes were half closed and vacant.

The vet who arrived was the one who loves Baasha, the one who saved him from the bridge 4 years ago.

Dr Paufler made Baasha get up and listened more intently than ever before to all his quadrants. Nothing to hear.

Baasha has never colicked in his life, and at this point I knew he would not survive his first.

The vet found a blockage and injected Baasha with a pain killer/muscle relaxer.

Baasha perked up immediately, came back to us with his eyes and looked normal. The vet said there is still a blockage, so he has to go to the clinic. The meds worked enough that he was able to travel. To die here would have been unimaginable, logistics-wise.

I had not been able to function this entire time - my man had to get a halter and lead, and put Bellis in the other stall. I was helpless.

I find it interesting that Bellis did not want to be near Baasha. Not far, but not near. She never looked over the wall to see what was happening with him, as she normally would.

"I have no trailer and I don't want to ask a neighbor to go through this with me. Please find someone for us who hauls professionally."

The vet called Mr Braun, who I've mentioned here before - he owns the local gas station and does competitive driving with drafts and ponies. He has that other donkey I visited.

Mr Braun's horse trailer showed up almost immediately (I'm soooo glad I did not have to use a neighbor for this). I frantically remembered I needed to get a cooler for Baasha to wear, and then, oddly, I said, "I have to go get Baasha's travelling robe."

I knew it would be a final trip and I wanted him in the nice black polarfleece blanket that I love. (Later it came to me that the term travelling robe comes from a Babylon 5 episode where a little boy's parents take him somewhere to kill him, wearing his travelling robe.)

Shaking, I put it on with my man's help (I was still pretty helpless).

I took him to the trailer and said, "Get in" and he took a look and then stepped in, as he always does. He cried once to Bellis, who cried back.

Getting to the clinic was worse than waiting for the vet while my horse was suffering. It took almost an hour on tiny curvy backroads, and Mr Braun drove agonizingly slow so Baasha wouldn't fall. I thought there's no way he's still able to stand, but somehow he made it upright.

Mr Braun talked the entire time about his life with horses, and losing some he loved. This nonstop horse chatter saved me from freaking out and telling him to drive faster. He said, "How old is your horse?" "27." "Really, I thought he was a young horse."

When we arrived at the emergency area, I got out of the car to look for the office but couldn't find it, and I just couldn't function. I just stood there in the dark, not really looking for the office, not sure how to find it, and giving up.

When my man jumped out of the car I came too and found it. They told us to bring him in and remove his robe and get into the stocks.

I remember I'd asked my man to get Baasha out of the trailer. He went to his head and jiggled the halter and said, "OK Baasha" but I'd forgotten my man didn't know how to tell Baasha it's time to back up. Baasha was so good at trailering, he would stand there until told to get out, and at the speed you require. I jumped in and got him out.

Baasha was perfectly agreeable and "with us."

A tech had to braid his mane to hook an IV to. It was awful watching her do this. His mane was hanging in mud dreadlocks. His tail was also completely black and hanging to the ground.

It crossed my mind later how appalling and potentially neglected Baasha looked, so muddy, but the vets did not have to wonder - a married couple stood at his head the whole time, hugging each other and crying. No doubt he was important to us, "our son".

She shaved a bit of his neck right through the mud while the vet shaved his belly.

The ultrasound showed what Dr Paufler said: twisted gut.

The tech started to walk away with Baasha and the vet told us to come to the office with him. I said WHERE IS SHE TAKING MY HORSE and he said a stall.

I did not want him out of my sight but we followed. He took our information and as I spelled out Baasha's name several times (he kept typing wrong) I knew it would be the last time I had to spell out his name for someone.

He asked for Baasha's passport.

Right, Baasha's an American horse. No pass. I actually had to sign something saying "No passport."

We told him we wanted no operation, no special measures. It was awful but thankfully I did not have to say it myself, my man helped me and the vet just made me confirm that I understood. He tried speaking English but German was better because he doesn't know much. He kept using this awful word for euthanasia - Erloesen. I said "Why do you keep calling it that? Doesn't that mean delete?" and he said, "It means to save." And sure enough, it came back to me from the Lord's Prayer: "Erloese uns von den Boesen." Deliver us from evil.

I wanted to be with Baasha. He was hooked to an IV and Mr Braun had hope, "He is hungry, he's looking in the trough for food! He doesn't look so bad."

The vet said, "Is he acting agitated from hunger (missing dinner) or is he in pain?" My man said, "Since we've never seen him sick, it's hard to say." I said, "The kicking at his belly is not something he does normally."

Baasha kept circling. I went in and pet him and saw that the IV was dripping onto his back. The the tech fixed it. I said, "He doesn't know those automatic waterers, you have to give him a bucket." The vet reminded me eating or drinking would be bad for him now. I said, "Of course - it's just habit that I not leave my horse with no water."

He wanted us to leave and he'd call if the condition changed. I found it odd that he said, "I'll call in the morning" because I knew Baasha didn't have that long.

Baasha lay down in a little ball with his nose pointed at his stomach and drifted away from us mentally again. I went in and kissed his forehead and that is the picture I have in my head of my horse now, the last time I saw him.

They sent us home and as soon as we got here my man started writing a blog entry to let you know. In the middle of this blog entry the phone rang and the vet said Baasha did not respond to a powerful painkiller that should have offered him relief for the next 4-6 hours. He asked if we wanted to come back to be there when he "saved" him.

I knew Baasha's mind was gone, he did not recognize me or care if I was there. He did not even look across the aisle to see the other horses - he was completely inward. I also knew that another 30 minutes of agony was too long. I said go ahead.


There was only one person I knew I had to tell - my sister. She's owned Baasha with me for 24 years, he's hers too. For some reason I was able to recall her phone number and I dialed it, but I couldn't say the words. My man took the phone. He told her, and I went on to tell the details. She deserved to know everything. She'd been dreading this call a while. She was able to tell my family, and my man was able to tell his, the next day.


She cried for 3 days, looking at the street where she saw him get into the trailer. She made sure that everyone within a mile knows that Baasha is gone forever.

It was so horrible, her braying, I kept praying she'd stop.

Yesterday I cleaned up the pasture and it was so awful knowing this was one last loving chore I could do for Baasha and then there's nothing else. Bellis did not leave my side, except once or twice and then she'd come cantering back to me and standing against me, pressing into me. I cried over her. She had herself wrapped around me so I couldn't walk, just cry into her big long ear. I did not want that job to end, but it did.

We keep spoiling her with carrots cookies, Baasha's mashes and affection. I thought if she doesn't colic as well from all this it will be a miracle.

But then at 5 PM as I tried to make my first Thanksgiving dinner, my man ran into the kitchen and said, "There's a donkey at the door."

Mr Braun had brought over his donkey gelding to be Bellis' companion.

I did not ask for this, but it must have been God's answer to soothing her pain.

This morning for the first time in 3 days, there is silence.


I went to work but I was in a state of panic that someone would try to talk to me. I had called in sick Tuesday because I was not at all well, and I was afraid my boss would hug me or something. Thankfully this did not happen. I was able to do my job, but then when it was time to come home, I didn't want to. I called my man, "Last time I came home, something horrible happened." He convinced me to come home.


My photographer friend was here last month to get some pictures of a happy healthy Baasha. I also had finally, FINALLY gotten an Arabian halter for his pretty face.


I find myself with an unexpected apathy now. I had my life's priority of 24 years removed, and now there is no purpose to what I do. Everything was for Baasha. All my energies and focus were serving his needs and fulfilling the dream of finally keeping him with me. I promised him years ago, "Before you die, I will take care of you myself." I even have this donkey that exists here soley for him.

Before the end you know Baasha had some digestive problems, thus the bloodwork and meds, but I'll never know what it was. During the last few months, he finally asserted himself with the donkey. Whether it was a silent illness, I don't know. But it was wonderful to see him finally say, "No, donkey, I will not move for you." and "My hay, donkey, you eat when I say." I always smiled - I even have a photo of him snarking at her over a bag of hay. His last photo. He would always stand over the hay bag after eating his mash, and doze, and Bellis would sneak bites out, and he'd glare at her, but never bite.

Baasha would sometimes sense her mood and start nibbling along her neck, which turned into biting down hard and he'd nicker at her like a stallion, as long as she could take it. That was Bellis doing her job, giving him an animal to nibble on.

Before Bellis Baasha was always standing at our little gate, waiting for me to drive up and feed him. But Bellis took that spot, forcing him to stand behind her. Well in the end, he claimed his spot back, and it was so wonderful to come home and see Baasha with his head over the gate, ears up, eyes sparkling, nickering at me. My man says this is how he'll always remember Baasha, at the gate, where he'd lift a hoof for my man to shake for a treat.


I wish I'd had the chance to spoil Baasha before (well, Sunday night I did, but I had no idea). I mean, I wish I'd been able to give him a bucket of apples, a deep bed of straw with shavings even deeper, below, but there was no opportunity. Instead God made it as easy as possible for us - there was never a question, there was never an option, there was no time. It all happened between 6:45 and 11PM.

I always thought I'd take some tail hair but there was no way, it was just mud. However last Winter when I shaved him, I accidentally cut off a chunk of mane, what, at the time, annoyed me intensely. Now I have it. Perfectly clean, white, long mane. It brought us both to tears again when I brought it out.


Saturday he had nibbled on my fluffy polarfleece shirt, with that dreamy look in his eye  - he cannot resist fluffy shirts, and I was happy to see him canter twice for no apparent reason, clear across the field, donkey following.

I never want to forget his low rumbling nicker when he'd canter to the donkey and me if we got too far away from him. She tended to follow me around when I cleaned the pasture. That low, "Mmm Mmm Mmm" in a single tone, in rhythm with his hoofbeats. It was like he was scolding her, "Don't get too far from me."


10 AM Friday: Still silent here.

My grandfather would always say the Lord's prayer, but in English. Since he knew Baasha, I hope he takes the time to go find Baasha this week. Or maybe next week; Baasha has a lot to do.

Vater unser im Himmel,
geheiligt werde dein Name.
Dein Reich komme.
Dein Wille geschehe,
wie im Himmel, so auf Erden*.
Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute.
Und vergib uns unsere Schuld,
wie auch wir vergeben unsern Schuldigern.
Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung,
sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen.
Denn dein ist das Reich und die Kraft und die Herrlichkeit in Ewigkeit.
* --   Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven


Anonymous said...

I am so sorry for your loss - there are no words. Try to remember that he had a wonderful life with you, and that life has to come to an end for all of us - you did everything you could for him and it was enough. He is at peace.

I'm glad you have Bellis - find some comfort in comforting her. Mr. Braun sounds like a kind man - I'm glad you had him with you and that he brought over the other donkey.

Sending best wishes and thoughts to all of you.

Kellie said...

Oh Lytha, I'm so sorry. I sit here and cry, feeling your pain.

Laura said...

Oh, Lytha! I'm so sorry for the loss of Baasha. :-( Thanks for sharing this post with us. I hope you can find some comfort in your memories of him. Your hubby is wonderful too, for being with you at that time and providing so much support.


EvenSong said...

So sorry for your loss, Lytha! No other words that I can say.

spotz58 said...

I'm so sorry. I've never known anyone so devoted to her horse's welfare, and I admire you greatly. Please find some comfort and peace in that you always did right by Baasha.

Zoe said...

Lytha I am so sorry to read this post. Human has tears running down her face. Baasha was a lucky boy to have found you who took care of what he needed when he needed it and put his needs first.
You have many fabulous memories and fabulous photos of him.
Be nice to yourself in the days to come.
My one wish is that all horses could have humans as caring as you.

the7msn said...

Lytha, I am so very sorry for your heartbreaking loss. I hope you can find some comfort in the company of Bellis and "the donkey at the door."

Bakersfield Dressage said...

Oh, Lytha. I am so very sorry to hear about your loss. I am shedding tears with you. I hope that peace finds you soon.

AareneX said...

Now that Baasha is in Heaven, he and Story are probably ripping up and down the trails, wondering what the hell is taking you and me so long to get there.

Farewell, well-loved grey horse, the only grey horse I could ever recognize in a crowd of grey horses.

And for you, lytha, our whole family holds you and your man (and Bellis too, of course) in our hearts.

Dreaming said...

Your post is so beautifully written. I can't imagine the buckets of tears you must have shed this week. The loss, the hurt, the emptiness.
At some point in the future I know you will find happiness in all of those wonderful memories, many of which you have shared with us through your blog.
What a wonderful horse. What a wonderful life you provided for him, for many, many years.

Camryn said...

While I don't know you nor your Baasha, I feel you pain. I am so sorry for his passing but, happy for you in the times you shared together.

Dan and Betty said...

Lytha, so many other good words have been said. Just know we care for you.


Nuzzling Muzzles said...

Heartbreaking. The death of a loved one is a soul-expanding experience that allows you to see everything in a new perspective. You are able to put the pieces of the puzzle together like you have here, listing the little things that made a big difference. I'm crying because I've been dreading this day right along with you. Baasha was a legendary horse who brought you joy, and you in turn brought others joy by chronicling your experiences with him in your blog. Please accept my sympathies.

Funder said...

Oh lytha, I am crying for you and your family. God bless all the people who have helped you (and Bellis!) in this sad time, and all the people who are going to help you. I know a pale echo of how empty you feel, and I wish I could comfort you. :hugs:

CG said...

I'm so sorry.. it is apparent from your writing what a special soul he had. Hugs to you and your family.

Becky said...

It's 8:30 in the morning here in Portland, and your quiet strength is ripping my heart out, Lytha. "I'm sorry" doesn't quite cut it. But I mean it - I'm so sorry you lost your friend.

Baasha was so very lucky to have you. That you recognized him withdrawing, and that you had the strength to not make him wait until you were there to say goodbye - I don't know a lot of people who would have the strength to be that selfless.

I hope that one day I can do half as well with my future horse, in all the little things, the everyday chores, and eventually the final goodbye--- as you did with Baasha.

I wish there was something we here in in internetland could do to make this easier for you.

Laura Crum said...

So very sorry to hear this. I have lost loved old horses and I know the grief. I have a thirty-two year old horse now who has been with me since he was three and I know the day will come for me, too. I have enjoyed reading about you and Baasha and your life in Germany and, as everyone else has said, it is so clear how much you loved him (and he loved you) and how much you gave him. There is really no more that a person can do. Peace and good wishes to you and your family.

Anonymous said...

Oh Lytha! I am so very, very sorry for your loss.

Anonymous said...

heard on Facebooks PNER group about your recent loss. I lost my beloved Raji just 2 months ago to pretty much exactly the same thing. if it helps at all, what you described as your experience at the vet clinic is exactly how it went at Pilchuck for us.

it will never get better, but it will turn from raw pain to nostalgia. I still cry, and probably always will. but that's ok. the horses of our heart deserve that.

kisses and carrots to Bellis, and take care of yourself.

--Anne-Marie Rousseau
Seattle, WA

Jeni said...

I am so very sorry Lytha.

~ cheryl said...

We've never met, but I feel as if I've known you through your blog. I have a horse-crazy daughter who left us in Snohomish and moved with her husband to Berlin. Your lives are similar. I enjoy reading about your life. Saying I feel badly for your loss, is not enough. Baasha was well-loved and life will never be quite the same for you after this loss. However, your life is definitely enriched for having shared it with Baasha and making his life a memorable and loving journey. I hope having Bellis to care for helps you fill the emptiness and you continue to search for your next horse and companion. Hugs to you,

~ cheryl said...

I started reading and enjoying your blog as I have a horse-crazy daughter, who left us in Snohomish and moved with her husband to Berlin. I've enjoyed getting to know you and Baasha. This blog moved me to tears and I feel badly for your loss. Baasha was obviously well-loved, cherished and cared for. Baasha's life was much better for having been your horse. My wish for you is that you can spend more time with Bellis and Mr. Braun's donkey and you continue your quest to find your next ride and companion. Take care of yourself. Hugs to you . . .

Carol Anne said...

I just read your post over my lunch and I'm finding myself to be quite thankful that I am alone in the lunch room, because I have tears running down my face.
My heart aches for you at the loss of Baasha. Having had my own horse for -going on 16 years now- I know the incredible bond we all develop with these wonderful animals. While I fear the loss of my own boy, knowing the pain that will come, I still wouldn't trade or give up a single year I have spent with him....because those memories can never be taken away or be replaced. They are the best gift anyone can receive.
While your post was difficult to read, the courage and bravery you had in facing this decision was very evident in your words.
Baasha is lucky to have had not only a wonderful home and a loving owner, but also someone with the courage to help him when he needed it the most. That is the mark of an extraordinary horsewoman.
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family during this most difficult time. <<>>

Dom said...

;_; I have no words. I am so incredibly sorry.

Oak Creek Ranch said...

Thinking of you. Hugs, big hugs.

Shawna said...

I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I cried reading your blog. It's clear how much you love Baasha. It sounds like Mr. Braun is a wonderful neighbor and friend to have helped you (and Bellis) during this time.

Anonymous said...

"Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men."
Quintus Ennius

Baasha left a mark on all of us who read your blog. He may no longer be with you in body, but he'll always be with you in spirit. You were so lucky to have each other, and if he could talk, I know he'd say thank you for being so wonderful to him. I am very sorry for you loss.

RuckusButt said...

I am so sorry Lytha. I don't know what to say, other than you did right by Baasha to the end. Take care of yourself.

The Kelly's Adventures in KY said...

Baasha is such a special soul. I'm happy that you were able to spend 24 good years with him, and that you will carry all those good times together with you for the rest of your life. Hugs from Kentucky Lytha. Gruss Got.

Cloisonne Art said...

Lytha, I am so sorry for your loss of Baasha, sending you heartfelt sympathy.

Rhonda G Everett, WA

Mare said...

I am horribly sorry to hear this. *hugs*

irish horse said...

No better words, but I'm so sorry.

Santa Jim from Haiku Farm said...

Dear One, I am truly sorry for your loss. From the time we met, years ago now, I have known you to be wholly devoted to Baasha. We know our friends will one day leave us, and yet it is always a surprise when they do.

God has graced you with a good man, very good friends and a fine donkey to carry you through a difficult time. Please know that I and many others are praying with you and for you now, as always. May the Lord bless and keep you, and make his face to shine upon you, and bring you all peace, now and forever.

Kitty Bo said...

Oh, god. I am stunned and crying. It is so hard, I know.

Melissa-ParadigmFarms said...

I'm so very sorry. I have been through this many time with the residents here and this spring with my own old man, Hoffy. It is a huge loss, Baasha was a life long companion. Be very kind to yourself. I know my Dad was there to greet Baasha at the bridge, all animals loved him and vice versa.

Story said...

My heart is broken. I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. Such an incredible horse to have had in your life.

Rebecca said...

So sorry for your loss. You are in my thoughts this week.

The Equestrian Vagabond said...

wow. I cried and cried as I read this. then i went out and hugged my horses. then i came back to write this, i am soooo sorry for your loss. That was a beautiful tribute to him, he had a wonderful life with you. many hugs from me and my horses.
- The Equestrian Vagabond

Justaplainsam said...

Lytha, I am so sorry for your loss. There are no words, just know that we are here for you, and you did the best for Baasha his entire life.

Unknown said...

I am so incredibly sorry! I lost my good old girl, Naigen to a twisted gut. She went into shock just as the vet got there but did manage to eat a couple banana's and apples before we euthanized her. It was horrible I couldn't look at her stall, tack, halters or the spot where they drug her out to bury her. A year later no grass grew where she was buried. If it wasn't so hard losing that little, sweet mare I had to call all sorts of little girls that rode her, brushed her, loved her and spoiled her completely rotten.
Having to say good bye in such a way to a beloved pet is the loneliest feeling in the world. Baasha was very lucky to have you in his life though and you him.
If you would like something done with the hair you have I do a few horse hair commissions a year still. Feel free to get in touch with me.

Reddunappy said...

Oh Beth, I am so sorry.
He had a good life.

Karrie Z said...

So sorry, Lytha. Wish I could do something more, even though I do not know you. A different horse person posted about you and I fell into your story of loss. May you know some measure of peace like your Bellis found with the presence of Mr. Braun's donkey.

Sending caring thoughts from afar-

ellie k said...

I am so sorry for your loss, my old horse was almost 30 when she could no longer live a comfortable life. ItI was very hard to make the decision. She was born on our farm and lived her entire life on our farm. I loved her too much to let her suffer just like you did Baasha.

Anonymous said...

Oh, no, that's so heartbreaking. You two had so many years together. So glad you got those beautiful pictures a few weeks ago. Thinking of you as you go through this rough time.

Mellimaus said...

I'm so so sorry for your loss. I'm sobbing with you as I read along. We love them so much. You're in my thoughts.

Paint Girl said...

I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved Baasha!! I am in tears right now and can't even imagine what you are going through. My thoughts are with you during this very difficult time!!!

Christie Maszki said...

I am so sorry. He had a wonderful life with you. My heart goes out to you and your husband, I know Baasha will always be with you in your hearts.

Laughing Orca Ranch said...

........It took me 45 minutes to read this heart-wrenching, terribly sad post. I could not...still cannot, stop crying.

I miss Baasha. Even though I had never met him or you in person. You shared him with all of us who have followed your blog for years, and he felt like he was a part of us, too, in some way.

My heart breaks for you. For he was your heart. And now your heart is hollow and broken. I'm so sorry for your tragic loss.

Baasha was one of the lucky horses. He has had the best care and continuous love and devotion for most of his entire life from one adoring

And dear, beloved Baasha has blessed you with his love, too and you can be sure that he will never leave you in spirit.

Still, I know your heart is breaking just the same. I am glad that you have Bellis and her new pasture friend, and your wonderful husband to give you some comfort, too. I am so very sorry, my friend.


lytha said...

Thank you. It was horribly difficult to write this blog entry, and even harder to read your empathic comments. Both my man and I required tissue to get through them. Every single one of them individually.

Curious, I googled my horse's name and found his pedigree, some ride records, and an article my sister wrote about her first endurance ride on Baasha.

It was a blessing to me to read it so I'll post it here if anyone's curious:

Thanks again for "being here" for us,


kbryan said...

Lytha, my tears join those of all those whose lives you and Baasha have touched. Your "heart horse" had a wonderful live with you, and I hope those memories will carry you though this difficult time of grieving and adjustment. I know that you will always carry Baasha in your heart.

Bellis was an incredible gift to him. She truly served a purpose, providing companionship and it looks as though she brought his self confidence ande courage back! Her reaction to his passing was heartbreaking to read. I am so appreciative of Mr. Braun's assistance during this time, it is apparent how much his help meant to you. And to bring Bellis a companion to ease her sadness was very very kind.

I wish there was a way to ease your sadness. You know we feel your angst, and to some extent, grieve with you. Please let us know how you, your man, and animal companions are doing. We started reading your blog because of our love for horses, but you have carried that further, and all of us hope that "you will keep us around" for a long long time.

Be strong, Baasha would want that, maybe Bellis can give you some of that courage that he doled out to Baasha. Thank you for all that you have done and still do, and for sharing those times with us. Kay

smazourek said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. I know how devastated you feel right now and I ache for you.

Achieve1dream said...

I am in tears reading this. I am so sorry Baasha is gone. :( I can feel your pain and love in this blog entry. He was lucky to have you. I think Baasha was the happiest, most well cared for horse on the planet. I'm really going to miss reading about him.

Unknown said...

So very sorry, absolutely in tears right now. What a wonderful loved time on this earth you gave him.

Mrs. Mom said...

OH Lytha, I am so very, very sorry. So sorry. You are all in our thoughts and prayers.

White Horse Pilgrim said...

I am so sorry, Lytha. Having just lost a dear horse I have a sense of how you must be feeling. In time all the wonderful memories of good times together will comfort. You loved Baasha through a long life and did your best for him at the end. That's the most anyone could do.

Sherry Sikstrom said...

So terribly sorry, there are no words that will heal your heart. Tears and hugs from Canada

Mikey said...

I am so, so very sorry for your loss. He was a very special horse and you gave him the very best life. May he rest in peace. Sending you and your man a big, big hug.

Gina said...

There are no words that can be spoken. I am a quiet follower of you and your pony since you first started your blog.

The only words I have are - I hope to one day have the length and breath of a friendship with my boy that you did with yours.

Tara said...

Oh Lytha, my heart is broken for you..
He cannot be Deleted, he will always be with you, as you love thoughts are with you, I am so sorry...

cdncowgirl said...

Lytha I am so terribly saddened to read of Baasha's passing. I hope that Bellis continues to bring you comfort.
How odd that both you & I finally got our dreams of having our horses at home, and have such a brief time there with them.


Crystal said...

Oh Lytha, I am so sad to read this. I know you did everything you coud for Baasha and oh this just makes me sad to hear of him leaving.

Sonya said...

Oh Lytha..I am more sorry than I can say. I know the love you both had for one another..everyone who read your blog and looked at the photos knew this. The love and friendship you both shared is incredible. My heart goes out to you and your husband and will be keeping you in our prayers.

appydoesdressage said...

I am so sorry Lytha, as someone with a 19 yr old Appy this is my worst fear. Just remember you gave him a wonderful life right until the end!!

K.K. said...

I am just seeing this now, and I am so very very sorry for your loss. I know first hand there is nothing I can do or say to make this time easier for you. I lost my equine best friend and partner this summer. He is in a better place now, where his health has been restored and he can wait for you to meet him. Please know I am thinking about you even though I have never met you personally.

Tass said...

So sorry for your loss, know that he is waiting for you at the Rainbow Bridge.

mumadayo said...

I am so sorry for your loss. We all had some fun times together. He took real good care of you on the trail. You were the best mom to him. I am sorry you lost your friend. I will be thinking . Hugs to you both! Miss you! , Brandi

Horseyhabit said...

I'm so, so sorry on your loss of Baasha.. He was a lucky boy to have you in his life.


kbryan said...

Just checking up on you. Let us know how you are doing when you feel up to it. Take care.

allhorsestuff said...

Sweet B, my tears are flowing and my heart broken for your loss of your lovely Baasha!

He had such times and life with you, it can be said that you gave each other life to the abundant.

My heart- aching and arms hugging~ from here

allhorsestuff said...

Beautiful, truly. I had my kitty come to me whirring, as I sobbed reading the lovely account of your nice memories of the last times. I am glad too, that you wrote them down.
Love and prayers for your hearts recovery at this loss.
Baasha the beauty.

Unknown said...

Oh B., ich habe es jetzt erst gelesen und bin so traurig! Was kann man mehr sagen? Ich finde keine Worte... Sei gedrückt von Kerstin

Rising Rainbow said...

There are no words to express how I feel at this news. You have been on my mind for I know why. My heart breaks for your loss.

Interesting your comment about apathy. This last year as I have been unable to do much with my horses I have found myself lacking purpose as well. The day will come when we both will find that purpose again. In the meantime, know you are not alone even though it feels that way.

Pattie said...

I am so sorry for your loss. :(

HHmstead said...

I had heard of your loss through the blogger "grapevine" - but could not bring myself to read your post until today...
Those of us who have had that special horse in our lives know full well the huge hole in our heart that is left when they depart this world for the next.
The world moves on, you too will move on - but your memories will remain & become even more cherished with the passage of time~

juliette said...

I've waited so very long to read this. I am sorry. I hope my delay does not reopen wounds for you. I am so sorry. I am hopeful that you are healing and finding hope and new ways to remember your sweet boy. Please know I am still thinking of you and have been sending the very best prayers and healing wishes to you and your man and Bellis.