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JennySmedley



Joined: 29 Jun 2007
Posts: 10

PostPosted: Fri Jun 29, 2007 1:18 pm    Post subject: Horse ghost... Reply with quote

I’d called him my little black bullet, and now he would be no more. I was in shock and denial, and enduring more pain than I thought I could cope with, and yet there was more to come. The look on the vet’s face said it all, and I hadn’t needed telling anyway. The vet took out his bolt gun.
Half an hour before I had been riding my black pony, Baloo, along the road, blissfully unaware of the tragedy about to unfold, and we had been on our way back to the stables. We’d had a great ride, and I was mentally promising Baloo a nice feed when we got back. The car had appeared in the distance, coming a little too fast for comfort and not slowing down when the driver saw us, but I wasn’t too worried. It was a wide road and Baloo was great with traffic.
It all happened so fast. A bird or a leaf or a bit of paper, I never did know which, crackled amongst the twigs of the hedge next to us, and something darted at my pony’s head. It wasn’t his fault. Horses are prey animals, with little fighting ability against the lions that stalked them in their race memory, and their only real defence is rapid movement. Totally not understanding, and completely unaware of the danger posed by the car, Baloo jumped sideways away from the perceived threat in the hedge. His leapt took him into the middle of the road, and momentum carried him further, before I could do a thing to stop him. The car…the car was coming just as fast, straight at us. I screamed, ‘Stop! Stop!’ as I wrestled with my pony, desperately trying to push him back to safety. It was too late. By the time the car driver braked, the speed kept it ploughing straight into Baloo’s legs. He squealed in pain as too late he realised where the real danger lay. As he crumpled, I was thrown onto the car bonnet, and then I rolled back into the road as Baloo got up and fled. I had a moment of hope, as I could hear him cantering along the tarmac. Surely, if he was cantering he must be alright. But then I looked round, and I could see the unnatural angle of one hind leg as he held it out to one side. I knew at that second that my pony was dead. He was racing in a panic straight towards the village. I called out his name, over and over, and he whinnied pitifully. He staggered to a ragged stop and turned back to where I waited. Cantering again in that lopsided way he came back, right into my arms. With me he thought he was safe. I knew better.
My Dad answered my frantic phone call, and God bless his courage, he came to do what I could not. He came to hold Baloo’s head while he was destroyed. A friend my pony knew, to keep him calm. I would never have been strong enough to do that.
Baloo had been bought from the gypsies. He was all I could afford at the time. I had wanted a pony since I could walk and talk, but I was twenty-four by the time I got him. He was cheap because he had part of his jaw missing, which made it difficult to find a bit to suit him. He was full of worms and had long, long shaggy black hair – hence the obvious name choice – Baloo the Bear, from Jungle Book. He grew strong with me, lost the worms and the shaggy coat and grew into a sleek, magnificent black pony, who jumped his heart out for me. We had such confidence in each other that I could even jump him in a halter, bareback. I owned him and loved him for six short years.
It took me weeks to get even half-way over the dreadful shock. My Mum couldn’t understand why I felt the need to get another horse as soon as possible. Her way of grieving was to wait for the pain to heal; mine was to fill that dreadful, unbearable hole I had in my life.
I found a lovely mare called Cindy. It was a mistake obviously, to try and choose a horse while on tranquillisers, prescribed by my sympathetic doctor. For a while things were OK, but then something very odd happened. One of the other horse-owners at the yard walked into the stables one day and said, ‘Who’s got a new horse?’ She didn’t mean me as by then I’d had Cindy a couple of weeks. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Out in the field. A black horse, galloping back and forth down by the trees. It’s going potty!’
No-one had a new horse. We both ran outside and looked, but there was nothing. We didn’t know what to think, but my heart wanted to believe it was the spirit of my pony.
The next day I got Cindy ready for our first outing to a show. It was impossible. She’d obviously had an accident in a trailer in the past, because nothing would induce her to walk inside. We tried everything, and when eventually, weight of numbers pushing and pulling, got her in, she went so crazy, almost climbing the walls that we had to let her out again. It couldn’t work, as I went to shows every week. I admitted to myself that we really weren’t suited, and I broke down in my friend’s arms, sobbing that I just wanted my Baloo back.
Months later I tried again, and bought a beautiful Anglo-Arab called Kerrunder. This was a bit of a departure for me as Baloo and Cindy were both cobs. But he was very quiet for such a classy horse, so I thought we’d be fine. He also loaded into the trailer perfectly, was great in traffic and jumped well.
For a few weeks things were fine, and then I was in the schooling arena one summer’s evening, and uncharacteristically Kerrunder was refusing to jump. He started staggering around and I decided to get off and take him back to his stable. The next day he was fine, so I rode as normal.
The next day my friend Jan came back from a ride very puzzled. She told me that she’d been in the grass field we usually cantered round, and that her pony, Willum had been wound up by the sound of another horse cantering in the next field, just the other side of the thick hedge. He’d carted Jan off, and she was unable to stop him. The unseen horse kept pace and Jan panicked a bit because they were nearing the end where there was a gap, and she thought Willum, who was neighing in excitement, and the other horse, were going to collide. Then Willum suddenly stopped of his own accord a few yards from the gap. There was no sound. Jan rode cautiously through the gap. There was no other horse.
It was Baloo again – we both knew it. Willum had been his best friend.
Jan and I talked. While it was a wonderful thing that Baloo was revisiting us, we had to ask why. He’d come before it seemed just before I discovered Cindy’s problem. Maybe he was trying to warn me about my new horse too. I decided to call in the vet and get Kerrunder examined. It was terrible news. The horse was what is called a Wobbler. He was suffering from cervical vertebral stenotic myelopathy, which produced spinal cord compression at the neck level. He would have been born that way. There was no available treatment at that time, and he would have to be retired. Rest would make him safe for a while, and obviously that was how I had been duped by the dealer I brought him from.
The vet said it was incredibly dangerous, and had I been riding along the road when he suffered an attack, or galloping over fences, the result could have been fatal for both of us, as horses with this condition have no control over their movement when the compression happens.
I was devastated but also elated, because I knew that Baloo had come back both times to warn me of danger! Would I ever have a horse he approved of?
Luckily a golden boy came to my rescue. Sky was a 15.3hh, chestnut, Welsh cob with an aristocratic lineage. He was three years old when I fell in love with him as I had never fallen for a horse before – since Baloo. I adored him from the first moment I saw him. I took him home and then waited with some trepidation to see if Baloo would reappear. No-one came in with any strange tales to recount and he seemed he wasn’t going to. But I was worried. I needed my first love’s approval before I would feel safe. One evening I was alone with Sky in the enclosed, barn-type stable yard. I’d tied a full net of hay up in the end pen, because I had some serious grooming to do on Sky’s abundant tail, and there was more room in there. I was going to tie him up with the hay net to amuse him while I tackled his tail. But before I went to fetch him I got lost in thought, thinking of how I missed Baloo, but how with Sky, finally, I might find peace and fun again. I sat in the end pen on a straw bale, gazing mindlessly at the dangling hay net. It was quiet, and Sky, still in his own stable, made no sound. Then I felt a shiver, a surge of some energy, a little like electricity in the air. The back of my neck tingled, and then, just like that, the hay net started moving. Hay nets have a very characteristic movement when a horse is eating from them. The net gets pushed back as they grab some hay, then is swung forward as they tug the hay loose, then is swings back as they let go. This is what the hay net way doing. While no hay was being taken, the net did it’s normal movement, over and over again. There was no doubt a horse was eating from it. But there was no horse. There was no breeze, no doors were open. I sat transfixed, watching the hay net move for over five minutes. ‘Baloo?’ I breathed. The hay paused in its swinging and I felt a puff of warm, sweet hay-scented breath on my face. Tears poured from my eyes. I ran back to Sky, throwing my arms around his neck. He was really and truly mine!
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bitterbuck1
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Joined: 18 Nov 2006
Posts: 3963
Location: Arizona, USA

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 1:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I know how rough it was on you to put down Baloo.

Thanks for sharing your story Jenny. Sad
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JennySmedley



Joined: 29 Jun 2007
Posts: 10

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 1:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks Billie :)
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bitterbuck1
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Joined: 18 Nov 2006
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Location: Arizona, USA

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 1:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jenny, was that the only time you felt Baloo around you?
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JennySmedley



Joined: 29 Jun 2007
Posts: 10

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 1:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, I think once he'd sent the message through and I'd got what he thought was the right horse for me, he left.
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bitterbuck1
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 1:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Smile
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flossy
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Location: UK tyne/wear (geordie land)

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 3:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

that one pulled on my heart strings, very touching Very Happy
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bitterbuck1
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Location: Arizona, USA

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 3:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It was wasn't it Flossy.

Years back we had to put one of our horses down.
It's not something that comes easy. Crying or Very sad
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JennySmedley



Joined: 29 Jun 2007
Posts: 10

PostPosted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 4:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well of course eventually I had to do it again. Not nice at all, but at least it was in a calm way and not the aftermath of an accident...
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