the last ride
As I reflect on Rocky’s life over the last seventeen years, I remember one late summers evening when Rocky loomed up out of the darkness, appearing like a divine nimbus one which exhales from him. I was drawn by his breath as I felt no more than a helpless vapour. He had been left in the field alone and with blown mane and flying tail Rocky glided across the field with ruthless elegance. I called out to him; he tossed his head and whinnied as he galloped to the gate. When my curious eyes rested long upon his face his eyes were like vast brown marbles, his breath hot and steamy, his docility remarkable. I was brimming with pride. With soft spoken words of reassurance he walked slowly and calmly at my side along the path to his stable, giving me a gentle nudge as he knew he was safe now and all would be well.
For many years I have studied nature and wildlife, but my own footfalls would often scare the wild animals on my distant and day long rambles. However, I would relish the incomparable pleasure of discovery whilst riding Rocky. The animals didn’t fear him, and as he was so tall that they didn’t notice me, enabling me to watch their lives at close quarters. As I savour the intense and sensuous pleasure of being with him, a delicious numbness drenches me, for those images dance through my mind and a shiver of excitement tingles through my body. The wonderful times spent with him and the adventures we shared over the years were vast and I could not choose between any of them, the task would be an invidious one, and one beyond my poor powers.
I now realise that the most important moments are now, in many a fleeting thought I have given thanks for every precious moment spent with him, they are so precious to me, like a sacrament (a meeting point between God and myself). As I wrote his little story I could not repress the weeping drops from my eyes, but my writing is how I dissolve things to ease my pain.
The vet was called and Rocky was to take his last breath on the evening of Thursday 29th October with his loving family around him, he was in his 28th year. Rocky was a beautiful Bay gelding, a 17.2 hands Hanoverian cross. The intense pain was like a hurrying tumbling wave with quick broken crest, for Rocky’s gentleness surpassed all expectations, almost too beauteous for reality. The aching sorrow of losing him has been unbearable, but having him in my life has endowed me with the skill to find happiness out of the simplest things that is within the means of the poorest of us.
Rocky’s ashes will be scattered amongst the hedgerows of the lanes where we live and where he loved to walk and graze on the vast array of wild flowers that grow along them throughout the seasons. As I walk along the same lanes in the years to come, Rocky will be there walking slowly and calmly at my side, giving me a gentle nudge of reassurance to let me know that all is well.
God bless Rocky, until we meet again.
10.03.1993 – 29.10.2020
