Just before Tara left us, the old chestnut mare used to enjoy standing at the bottom gate watching the sun go down.
So when I caught Gracie the skewbald pony doing the same thing one evening, a look of complete serenity on her face, I felt a shiver through my spine.
I’m used to my cheeky pony being full of herself, shrugging me off as I attempt to pet her. ‘What have you got?’ is her refrain, accompanied by a brazen nuzzling of pockets. Standing peacefully watching the sunset, perfectly still, the breeze blowing her mane, was not like her at all.
When she did it again a few evenings later, I heard myself saying out loud: ‘You’re leaving me, aren’t you?’
It made no sense. She was not ill. There was nothing wrong, aside from the usual struggle to get her through spring and summer without laminitis, which was becoming more complex.
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