A tough day here. It didn’t rain yesterday or today – I think it would have been too much to take. I can’t imagine what it would have been like, dealing with Tinni and his passing and burial in the pouring rain. As it was, he was buried last night by Pete and Zach in a short amount of time. It went smoothly. Burying an 800 pound horse is not like burying a 40 pound dog or even a 90 pound goat. You need at least two people to move the horse.
I suspect that some people lead the horse to the gravesite and he or she then topples into it. I am so glad we didn’t have to shoot Tinni or give him sodium pentothal.
He made it easy on us, and this is why I feel bad. He was, in all respects, a model horsey citizen, and his death followed suit.
It felt strange this morning, to be tending to just three horses – I then really felt the loss. The mares now have access to the entire pen, and of course, they, unlike Tinni, make a mess, stomping around in their own shit. He stepped around his three of four piles of poop, and also used his urinarium.
What I decided I learned from Tinni’s death is that I need to re-prioritize. For years, the horses, all, were the center of my universe. Then the book project became the center of my universe. I can foresee that someday I’ll wake up and regret the latter. So I am now already working on re-prioritizing, and making the horses again the center of my universe.
There is no time like the present to make changes. Today I got all of the mares out. I walked Hrimmi and Tyra part way around the loop (so that I could review the demolition activity down road), and I rode them the rest of the way, and as well, on Siggi’s Trail. I think they liked getting out, and being walked, and being taken on a short ride.
The demolition work was going full force by the time that I finished saddling up Raudi, so I took her directly to Murphy Road trailhead and rode her on all our trails.
The horses are all out of shape. I am going to ride them all winter, for sure. I will make up for lost time.
I puttered around the place when I got back, then called my sister Eleanor. She was one of many who made Tinni’s acquaintance – her first question to me was “how’s Tinni?” I was so taken aback I said, “dead.” She was very empathetic – that was all I needed.
Tomorrow will be another day. I can live with this cliché. And by then we’ll be well into October.
Next: 270. 10/2/22: A Letter to Fran
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