I sat in the soft grass under a large oak tree and held his head in my lap as he slipped away and crossed the rainbow bridge. He had been my best friend for almost 30 years, since he was a rambunctious two year old with too much energy and too little brain, but I loved him from that very first day. I saw his potential and new he could go far. His golden hair gleamed in the last rays of sun and with a final breath, he went limp. I knew he was gone, but couldn't make myself believe it.
I gently slid my body out from beneath his, closed his eyelids, and softly padded away. I knew it was the right thing to do, but it was going to be weird not hearing him talking softly as I prepared his morning meal or see him lumbering contentedly back to the barn at supper time.
I said one last good-bye as I set the tarp over his body, then, with one last glance over my shoulder, walked away from him, leaving him for the final time.
Chevy had been a loyal companion, a champion Reiner, and a steady trail partner. He took care of the little ones, but gave it all he had when you knew what you were doing. I could trust him with anyone. And now, he was gone. No horse could every replace him and nothing could fill the hole that had been torn in my heart the day I saw him struggle, trying to get up, then flop on his side, and give up. I went out there with a group of guys, a skid loader, and a sling, and got him up and into the barn, but I knew the years of wear and tear on his legs had taken their toll and that life in a sling was no life at all. I knew it was time, even though I didn't want to believe it. But the sadness of his passing is not the part to be remembered, it's the joy, accomplishment and pride of his life that is.
