Goodbye

Rawrs

I stand almost totally still in my muggy stable, ears back with boredom, tail swishing flies away, eyes half shut in the heat. Nose resting on the floor in place of my hoof, which I keep tucked up painfully to my chest. What happened? I can remember galloping around my field with all the others thundering behind - I was always the fastest. I remember the rush of leading a herd of my own, the sheer joy of being in front, and the annoyance at the fence that came closer with each stride. I remember being so sure of myself that I could do a sliding stop just in front of that fence, being nimble enough to twist round on my hocks to gallop in the other direction...and, with a flinch, I remember preparing for the next stride by flinging a foreleg forward - onto nothing. I shudder slightly at the memory of turning a full somersault over a silly little rabbit hole, rimmed with grass that rendered it invisible. In my mind, I can see my fieldmates bouncing to a halt. One of the youngsters tosses his head and jumps to the side, unsure of how to play this new game. An older dun heavy horse pins his ears back to shoo the youngster away, and then settles down on the grass next to me, with a sigh, to wait. The rest of the herd gradually disperse across the field to graze, occasionally looking towards us but more intent on their grass than a pair of lame horses. After a while longer, the dun heaves himself up with a snort and tugs my ear, encouraging me to do the same. Looking out between the fence posts, I can just make out a purple-coated figure walking towards our field, armed with ropes and carrots. Out of habit, I instantly try to spring to my feet, but a flare of pain shoots up my leg and I sink to the floor again. The figure stops for a second, then walks faster, until she's running - no, sprinting - across the field. Perhaps I should warn her about the rabbit holes...
As per usual, the greedier horses immediately rush to the gate to greet her while the grumpier ones turn the other way, but oddly she waves them all away, and I realise that she's walking towards me. Thats odd - usually the eager horses are brought in as soon as possible in an attempt to make the grumps jealous. Oh well - I've been led here long enough...why am I laying down again? Oh, right. Leg. Crap. Best wait a minute before moving again...she's here. I watch her face go white and she freezes for a second, totally unsure of what to do. After a moments deliberation, she shakes herself out of the trance.
'Oh . My . God'.

She takes a step closer, talking in a quiet, but somewhat panicked, tone.

'Christ, boy, you've really done it this time...God, what am I gonna tell the owners...Steady! Steady, hang on boy, don't move...we'll get you sorted out, don't worry boy...there, steady now, you'll be ok'.

She really doesn't look convinced.

Then there's the long process of her shouting for help, and then a team of people pulling me up from the floor, and us walking - limping unsteadily, in my case - back over the next field and out of the gate, with the humans shooing other curious horses away the whole time. As I hobble through the last gate and out of view, I can hear the heavy dun colliding with the gate, then turning and trotting along the fenceline. I occasionally see his nose through the hedge, and the sound of his heavy hooves drumming on the ground keeps me focused on my goal - keeping upright. At last, we reach my dusty stable, and I am freed from my headcollar - everyone can see that I'm not going anywhere.

So, that's where I am now.

Waiting.

The person who brought me in from the field is now rapidly and tapping through that weird device that all humans seem to have. I remember my human holding it up in front of me for minutes at a time, until I tapped my nose to the screen. Then, she'd hold the gadget up to my eye so that I could see an image, like the pictures you see when you look in water, except not moving...it's hard to explain. She always seemed very happy after this - she'd laugh and say something like
'Yay, great selfie bubs'
as if I knew what a 'selfie' was. I still don't.