5/18/2021 0 Comments My Horse, Tomissa Some children imagine and even long for having their own horse. Perhaps they have a love of nature and see themselves riding through fields, galloping up trails in the woods, fording rivers, and intertwining their lives with their horse and possibly with creation itself. I was not one of those children. I lived in New York City and my dreams definitely had a city feel to them. However, Catherine, who had grown up in Lynn, had always wanted a horse. In fact, Catherine was the force behind Liz starting to ride at seven years old. Catherine would accompany Liz to her lessons and also hang out at the barn which she loved. Thus, a big part of our impetus to move from a suburban life in Beverly to a much more rural existence in Ipswich was for Catherine to fulfill her dream. We moved in late 1993 and within six months Catherine was given a 20-year-old Chestnut (red) thoroughbred by a local horse vet. She named her Nova for the white star shape above her eyes. Catherine found a cooperative barn with three other horses across the street from our home. It was connected to the Essex County Trail Association network with hundreds of miles for riding. Although we did not know it when we bought our house, our 2 1/2-acre property had a 400-foot strip of land that was also part of the trails network. For the next few years, Catherine kept Nova at the barn, learned the trails (all unmarked) and rode as often as she could. At this cooperative barn, everyone pitched in with chores. I would often accompany Catherine, and I learned to feed the horses, muck out the stalls, clean the paddocks and brush and groom the horses. I found all of these activities to be delightful – very mindful and peaceful. I was highly content with the arrangement. Tomissa There were rumors that the barn might be closing and that the other horse owners were finding different places to board their horses. This gave Catherine time to research how we might build our own barn, one that was both functional and beautiful. One of the riders was moving to Virginia and wanted to find her horse a new home. She was willing to give me her horse for free – a 10-year-old bay (brown) Arabian named Tomissa, who was way beyond my ability as a “pre-beginner” rider. By then, I had seen that horses were social beings, and that Nova and Tomissa had already bonded. Catherine had already done the research and suggested we build a horse barn on our own property. Within months we had built a very nice three-stall barn, and also turned a good portion of our land into fenced paddocks. Thus, as I turned 50 years old in 1997, I willingly accepted that I would learn to ride and care for my own horse. I did not take into account how difficult learning to actually ride Tomissa would be. Tomissa was a highly spirited horse whose previous owner rode her in 50-mile races! No doubt Tomissa could sense all my fears, tensions and awkwardness, so that even putting on her bridal and saddle were more of a battle than a joy. She would duck and wriggle her head and neck and make it almost impossible to even get her tack on. Riding her was even worse. Since I no idea what I was doing (Oh Dave. did you ever think of taking a few lessons?), she felt uncomfortable and unsafe, and so did I. The rides were very bumpy and just staying on her for an hour was painful. I continually smashed my coccyx bone leading to what I assume were hairline fractures making it challenging to sit comfortably even on a chair. But I was determined not to give up and eventually go out riding with Catherine, and even by myself. My hope was that both Tomissa and I would fully enjoy the experience. A year passed – a long, difficult and painful year. I still loved taking care of Tomissa, but the actual riding experience was awful. The winter was the best because there was no riding. The spring was approaching and I wanted things to be different. I took a few lessons to at least give myself and Tomissa a chance. The Miracle of Trust On a beautiful night in May, I walked over to our barn to check on the horses before bedtime. Catherine and I usually did this together but she was busy. Our old dog, Daisy, probably the most intuitive dog we ever had, kept me company as we walked to the barn. We entered the barn and saw that Tomissa was lying down in her stall. By this time, I had discovered that horses often lie down and rest, but I had never seen Tomissa do this in her stall. I opened the stall door and Tomissa looked very comfy breathing deeply but not sleeping. If you visualize a horse on her side, you can see her body as a large pillow and her legs kind of defining the edge of the “bed”. Without a moment’s hesitation, Daisy jumped over the stall threshold and simply put her head on the “pillow” with her body at a right angle near Tomissa’s chest. Daisy looked back at me, and I imagined her saying, “Dave, this is your chance. You can do it!” It was clear that there was enough room for me near Tomissa’s stomach. I took a breath, screwed up my courage and lied down on the stall floor shavings with my head on Tomissa’s “pillow”. Tomissa took a deep sigh and then so did Daisy. I realized that I was holding my breath so I let it out and let the weight of my head rest fully on Tomissa. We all stayed there for perhaps 2 or 3 minutes which seemed like forever. Then Tomissa started to get up and so did Daisy and that was my cue. Tomissa shook herself, Daisy shook herself and since no one was around, I shook myself. Daisy and I then walked back to the house. The next morning. I went to the barn with my usual sense of dread and got Tomissa’s bridal. But instead of pulling away, she just let her head hang softly, and I easily put on the bridal. Same thing with the saddle. Mounting went smoothly as well. I could hardly believe it was actually happening so simply and easily. As we began riding, she showed me how to “talk” to her with the reins, how to shift my weight, how to even use my eyes so she would know where to go – so we could be in harmony. And for the next 10 years, Tomissa and I went riding, often with Catherine, but sometimes by myself galloping up trails, crossing meadows, fording rivers and on occasion becoming one with all creation.
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5/8/2021 0 Comments Shamrock's Final Gift In August, 1996, Catherine and I returned from our first week of volunteering with exceptional citizens at Camp Fatima. Our house / dog sitter told us that, one day during the week, she had found Shamrock, our 9 ½ year-old Golden Retriever at the bottom of our stairs. He was panting very hard and it appeared to her that he had fallen down the stairs. He recovered quickly, and it only happened once, so our sitter did not let us know until we came home. We also thought it might be a “one-off” so we chose to wait and see. A few days later, Shamrock had an intense seizure right in front of us. He rolled on his side, his entire body shook, his eyes rolled backwards, his legs paddled wildly and his tongue hung down. It was my first time seeing something like this. I thought he might bite his tongue, so I attempted to put it back into his mouth. Bad idea! He chomped down on my hand, and I was lucky to escape with all fingers intact. After visiting our local Vet, we were sent to Tufts Veterinary Hospital in Grafton MA, an hour away, for a full work up and diagnosis. The Tufts Vet center is a top-quality facility in Massachusetts. After many tests including an MRI, we were told to come back in a week for the results and a conversation / plan. When we returned, our Vet at Tufts, a young, compassionate oncology specialist from Ireland, informed us that Shamrock had a cancerous brain tumor. Unfortunately, surgery was not a viable option and the best course of treatment was medication. Catherine and I were very clear that we had entered a new phase of care for Shamrock. The Vet said that Shamrock’s death was not imminent but that the seizures would continue. He prescribed Prednisone, a steroid, to help Shamrock through the process. We came home and quickly carpeted the stairs for better footing and a soft landing if Shamrock fell again. Thus began our journey of saying goodbye to Shamrock. Our nightly plan One of the significant side effects of prednisone was that it made Shamrock pee – a lot - say every few hours, sometimes more. During the day, we found ways to manage this, but the nighttime was a challenge. Catherine and I agreed that one of us would sleep downstairs with Shamrock in the family room located next to an outside door, so he was easy to take out. This would have the advantage of letting the rest of the household, including Daisy our other dog and our two cats, get some sleep. We took turns sleeping with Shamrock every night for next four months. On my nights, I slept on the couch and Shamrock was either on his pillow on the floor or sometimes snuggled up with me on the couch. Maybe two hours would pass and he would wake me up ready to go out. This process started in late August so the nights were generally balmy. Gifts from 3AM We live in the woods with trails to walk on. On my nights, I would take Shamrock out and he would hunt around for the perfect place to pee. It had to be the right place, so it often took him quite a while, sometimes even up to ½ hour. During this time, I had the rare (for me) opportunity of seeing / hearing / sensing the world at 3 and 4 in the morning when everything feels quite different. There was often a quiet and inviting softness in the air. The smells were intense and there were few distractions. It was simply wonderous to stop and listen to the life in the forest at night – owls, coyotes, branches being used as highways. Conversations At some point during our night walks, I began “talking” with Shamrock. First, I apologized for all the things I could have done better for him. Like the day I forgot to feed him or another when I accidentally locked him in a room or… I felt I needed to apologize but he did not care too much about the apologies as he sniffed his way through the woods occasionally seeing something to chase. We then reminisced about the adventures we had together– “Sham, do you remember when you ate the turkey at Thanksgiving?”, what about when you discovered your singing voice especially when Elizabeth and I played Mozart the clarinet? … And then my long list of thanks. Thanks for being so important in my life; for opening up my heart, for simply being yourself, for your love and affection for Elizabeth, Catherine and me…. Finally, as he began to have more seizures, I practiced saying goodbye. I would often cry and after a good cry, the woods were even more beautiful. Shamrock’s last day On Christmas day, 1996, Elizabeth was home from college. We took Shamrock with us to the relatives for Christmas. It was clear he could not be left alone anymore. His quality of life had drastically deteriorated, and we had decided that the day after Christmas would be his last. A friend of ours was a horse Vet who agreed to come to our house for the final sendoff. On December 26th, Shamrock started the day off well and happy, and we actually thought to postpone the end. But then he made it easy. He had a sequence of seizures that told us, without a doubt, he was ready to go. Catherine, Elizabeth and I all sat outside on the grass with Shamrock in our arms. We had all begun this journey together and would end it together. Even Daisy, our other dog and Shamrock’s bonded companion, was there to say goodbye. The Vet gave him the sedative first so all his muscles relaxed. Then, the final needle and within seconds, he was gone. We cried and said goodbye. The ground was still soft enough to dig a grave. We placed Shamrock in the ground, covered by his favorite blanket and then added the earth. He would be the first of our many animals to be buried on the property. In the most heartfelt way, Shamrock taught me something I already knew – That everything comes into being, stays for a while, and then passes on. Since that time, I have felt this simple but immense truth as a part of life and who we are. What a gift! Thanks, Shamrock. |
David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |