Ice: the perfect free spirit, now four years in the wind.

Photo copyright Aji, 2021; all rights reserved.

Today is always a terrible day.

Ten-thirty this morning marked the fourth anniversary (four years! how did it get to be four years?) since Ice left us. He didn't want to go. But we had to help him do it, because there was no chance of recovery, and the pain would soon have been unbearable.

He showed up in the general area in December of 2013, having materialized out of precisely nowhere a few days before Christmas. Just before sundown on Christmas Eve, he crossed over onto our side through a downed section of fence . . . and never left. We put the word out, but no one ever claimed him, so he just . . . stayed.

He was my beautiful mustang boy, a high-stepping horse of many names and an indomitable spirit, even when he showed up here, starved, apparently abandoned, even when a hidden case of sand colic tried to take him for us the following spring. The vet took me aside and warned me privately that it was unlikely to have a good outcome; it was a 75+-pound mass, years in the making, and the bowel was already compromised. 

He made a liar out of her. Oh, it took work: days and weeks and months of work, and IV hydration and meds and the endless, endless walking on a lead, circles upon circles in the hot May sun, but we did it. He had a couple of subsequent small episodes, but the vet had also agreed that he might be passing small amounts of sand for the rest of his life. Either way, we were prepared to deal with it, and we did.

And he finally had the herd he'd so obviously always wanted. He was so happy, if still traumatized by his past; gelded, but clearly something had gone terribly wrong, most probably a complete lack of any anaesthetic or subsequent pain relief, and he would not let anyone near his back end. Fortunately, his hind hooves were perpetually short and solid, and even his forehooves didn't need much work. 

I had begun, very, very slowly, putting my jackets on his back just to get him adjusted to the idea of something there. I had intended one day to ride him, this high-stepping warrior boy with the flawless natural gait.

But something else got there first.

The colic recurred on August 3rd or 4th of 2017. The reason for the colic was a tumor that had, unbeknownst to us, already been present when he showed up here and growing all that time. It had finally reached that terrible magic point where it forced a full torsion of the bowel, and there was no return from the compromising of its wall. He was ready to try; he was my tough guy, after all. But it wasn't even a slim chance. The only chance was of prolonged agony for him, and we weren't willing to do that.

So we made the hardest of hard decisions, and my heart tore in half, and it has never healed. He's buried out where Cree, and now Shade, too, are, in the shadow of a field full of wild sunflowers. And I miss him every single day. At 10:30 this morning, I went out there, as I always do, with cedar and tobacco . . . and I put a few of the bright yellow blossoms next to the stone, too.

I don't see him in the flowers so much as I feel him in the wind. He was that kind of horse, Ice: the perfect free spirit, now four years in the wind.

We love you, Ice. You still run across our hearts.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2021; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.                                

Three Years, and There's Still a Horse-Shaped Hole In My Heart

Photo copyright Aji, 2020; all rights reserved.

This month is a rough one for me. Markers everywhere. And it's not like we haven't added a bunch more in the last few weeks and months.

But this one hurts in a very particular way. Three-years, and there's still a horse-shaped hole in my heart.

We called him Ice (along with a few other names, because around here, everyone gets formal names and traditional names and nicknames, and occasionally gets called Butthead or similar, too). He was my mustang, my wild horse, my tough guy, my warrior. 

And he never had a chance. But we didn't know that that Christmas Eve six years ago when, having suddenly materialized in the next field, unattended, unfed, unwatered, and evidently unclaimed, he crossed the boundary onto our side.

And never left, until this day in 2017 when he crossed that other, more permanent boundary. Like my other horse, still living, he arrived abused, abandoned, starved nearly to death. Back then, we had plenty of snow, and it had crusted on the whiskers under his chin, the low-angled light of the setting sun turning it to ice crystals. And so he became Ice, because we had to call him something while we put the word out that this horse had shown up, and we'd make sure he was fed and watered until his people came and claimed him.

No one ever claimed him.

And so he got his fondest wish, which was to be part of a herd again, and everything seemed fine until the following May . . . when he colicked. Hard. And it wasn't regular colic; it was sand colic, and the vet estimated a 75+-lb. mass impacted in his gut, the second-largest she'd ever seen. The kind that develops not over five months, but more like five years.

And she warned me that we might not — probably wouldn't, in fact — be able to save him. But we could try. And so through an absolute rainfall of tears, because he had already set up camp in my heart, and the early monsoonal rainfall whipping the land at four in the morning, I was out there in the dark and the gale, changing the IV bags hooked up to him where he was confined in the small stall. And I did it, and so did he, and after weeks of work and walking, oh, my god, the endless walking, a few instances of getting my feet stomped and one of getting clotheslined in a way that, but for boots, would have taken my feet off at the ankles, we got him healthy again.

And he thrived. Until August 4th of 2017. He colicked again, not sand but a regular colic, but we're both experienced enough to know that it was bad. And the next day we learned why, and why he never had a chance: There was a tumor in his abdomen, impinging on the gut, and it had grown downward to such a size and position that there was full torsion, and the integrity of the wall was already breached. He was a warrior, and would have fought as long as we permitted it, but it was our job not to let him suffer, and based on what was described, we knew his pain was already untenable.

And so at 10:30 on the morning of the 6th, the vet came out a third time. And my beautiful high-stepping boy is buried by his new-found sisters, beneath a bank of wild sunflowers. The same place where I took his spirit some cedar and water and tobacco this morning. And my heart is still a mess of broken shards, and always will be. 

We love you, Ice. Someday we'll cross the bridge to run with you again.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2020; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

Two years this morning since I said goodbye to my beautiful boy.

Photo copyright Aji, 2019; all rights reserved.

Impossible to believe, but it's been two years this morning since I said goodbye to my beautiful boy.

Ice. The wild horse, the mustang with so very many names, and animated by so very many ancillary spirits. I still see him with them, in my mind's eye.

It breaks my heart to know that he's gone, and yet, we learned at the very end that it was always inevitable; by the time he found us, he was already sick, and never had a chance. His body tried to die on him a few months later, and yet his spirit was so strong, and mine so stubborn, that we brought him back to give him nearly a full four good years.

And he was happy.

All Ice ever wanted was a herd, a place to belong, fellow spirits to love. I'm glad that if nothing else, he could live out the days he had left to him, the years, actually, in just such a place. 

And so this morning at 10:30, before we left, I took cedar and tobacco and water out to his resting place. It's covered, at the moment, with a bank of wild sunflowers newly in bloom. It's fitting for a boy whose spirit was so sunny, all despite the abuse and abandonment he endured in the years before he found us and refused to leave. And I miss him every day.

But now he runs with Cree and Shade among the stars, across the bridge to the other world. And I think he's still happy.

We love you, Ice. And I'll ride you yet one day, my beautiful high-stepping mustang boy.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2019; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

One year without Ice.

Photo copyright Aji, 2018; all rights reserved.

I just cannot believe that it's been one whole year since my big white mustang left me.

That was always one of my favorite photos of Ice. He was a camera hound, and the world's biggest ham: It didn't matter that he'd never seen a camera before he found us; he figured out right away what this was all about. He'd pose like a show horse without being told (or without even knowing what "show" meant). One evening, he literally did the whole supermodel-photo-shoot thing for me, swishing back and forth from side to side, "get my good side," "now get my other good side," over and over and over again. Someday I'll find that set of photos.

As of 10:30 this morning, he's been gone one full year. My heart is just as broken as it was on that day. I went out to where his body rests, by Cree and now by Shade, too; I took him cedar and tobacco, hay and grain and water. Wings understands why I do these things, because he does them, too. 

And I wept.

I thought I had so much more time with him, time to desensitize him from the abuse he suffered before he found us, time to break him in and ride him, to fly along with that perfect natural high-stepping gate in a wild mustang body. We didn't know that he was already sick when he found us, that the impaction was there and that the tumor was probably already there, too. We fought so very hard to save him the first time around, and we did, and we thought that was it.

And then the spirits ripped my heart out.

On the evening of August 4th of last year, he was wild and happy and free, running, bucking, pitching for the sheer joy of it, playing with Miskwaki and Shade. By the morning of the 5th, something was very wrong; by the 6th, he was gone.

And this Ice-sized hole in my heart, a sixteen-hand wild horse, never gets any smaller.

I told him about Miika today. He would've loved her, with her fire and her spirit and her bossy personality. He was the bad boy of the herd, and she would've loved him, too. I know his brother misses him still.

We do, too, this horse who stole in here and stole our hearts and left this raw and gaping void. We love you, by all your names: Miikwami, Shongeska, Ice. And I will ride you someday, in a world beyond this one.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2018; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

Christmas Eve skies and late December melancholy. Sales/shares needed.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

And . . . and update of sorts: On my way upstairs to take a shower, I told Wings to look out the windows of the guest room. Ice had not forgotten either, apparently. To the west-northwest, the clouds had shifted again, coalesced in a whole new way, in the form of the sandhill cranes that are my namesake, brilliant white whorled with soft gray and stretched full-length as they raced across the sky. The characteristic head and bill shape in the clouds was unmistakable, as were the legs and feet outstretched beneath wingspan and tailfeathers. These were, of course, much larger than the real thing, but what else to expect from spirit birds? Perhaps these are the spirits that for us preside over this night.

Christmas Eve skies. No snow, and not quite a sun dog; just a trick of the iPad and the light. 

It's been a melancholy day. Part of it is just the continual problems with my health, and the obstacles they create. I'm stuck with what few nitro I had left to last me two weeks, thanks to a bad screw-up involving both my doctor's office and the pharmacy. I walked out in tears, because I'm now even more limited than I would've been. No answers, no solutions, just stop-gap stuff and the terrifying reality that one of these times could be it, since, in spite of everything, except for knowing that my heart itself is clear, no one knows anything more than they did six weeks ago.

But part of it is the day and time. This is a difficult time anyway, from the 17th through the 28th, particularly. Nizise, Wings's father. Janet. Carter. Lin. And while his date of departure was August 6th of this year, the day Ice came to us four years ago was this one. Christmas Eve, at exactly this time of day. He is forever intertwined with . . . well, all four of those who've walked on, all of whom we loved dearly, and I find myself sobbing over Ice when it's really over all five of them.

It's also been disturbing today to see the number of homeless seeking a few bucks here and there for food and shelter, and how thin and hole-filled the alleged safety net actually is. It's nothing that will keep folks warm tonight. Oh, we got a warm-up, so it won't be the -6 that was predicted, but the new forecast of 17 is still dangerous if you're out in it with nowhere to go. [And for me right now, with this going on, it's dangerous enough that we can't go to the Pueblo for the Christmas Eve celebration, either, which is another source of melancholy.] We gave the last couple of dollars we could spare to the gentleman who stands at the corner of the blinking light, dressed daily in thread bare trousers and well-worn shoes, a white shirt and a necktie, and now a thin red Santa cap. He wants work, I think, and wants people to know that he's respectable, and he's probably living out of his battered truck and he insists on dignity in a society that refuses to recognize his own, and it all breaks my heart. ::Sigh:: we have done what we could for who we could this week, and that is our Christmas offering to whatever of our spirits preside over such things, and it will have to be enough.

Even so, this last week of the year will be hard, even if everything goes as well as possible. Forget what remains to be done on the house for now. We need to make some sales. A lot of them. But sales are not just what's going to keep me alive and Wings healthy; it's going to help other folks, too. Given the circumstances, I'm leaving up the donation link, too, and the registries have some new items on then, mostly lower-priced, to replace stuff damaged by the RV or given away when we first moved into it seven years ago. So please share our links:

• Wings's direct PayPal link;
• Wings's site, for sales;
• Wayfair gift cards, to replenish all the furnishings that the RV has destroyed in one way or another.
• Partial registry #1, from Bed, Bath and Beyond. There are new kitchen-y things on it now, stuff that I didn't realize we'd need to replace (either because the RV ruined it or because we gave it away when we had to downsize).
• Partial registry #2, from Wayfair. Still waiting for them to resolve this fulfillment/shipping problem they have with their site. Even so, I've added some things (kitchen/dining room stuff mostly), most of which are comparatively reasonably priced. Now, it's going to be mostly odds and ends that make this place more liveable, because of the sheer volume of stuff destroyed by too many years in the RV (e.g., by the oven and stovetop, by the wiring, by the water, by the mold, etc.), or that we simply gave away seven years ago because we had no room and no place to put them and despaired of ever being able to use them again. A CHANGE ABOUT WAYFAIR:  NO MORE CROWDFUNDING. Their Web site coding is bad, and it will not permit crowdfunded items to ship. Items purchased outright arrive in two business days, but you can't even get the others out of the warehouse. 

As I've also been saying, I am still catching up, and will be now for a while. But this is the holiday season, and the sales/commissions from these few weeks are what keep us alive throughout the whole long winter and spring months (to say nothing of what's in the offing medically), so please continue to share the links. And please refer folks to Wings's site (and if you have an endorsement, too, so much the better). I'll be trying, slowly but, I hope, steadily, to get caught up over the course of this week. We have some massive expenses coming down the pike, and a lot of testing yet to be done before I'm out of the woods. So please keep sharing all our links. For now, I'm just so damn grateful to be alive, to have a healthy heart, to be back home with the love of my life and our dogs, the whole world is beautiful, even in spite of my terrible depression. Thanks again, to everybody, and we love you all.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner. 

Ice is home now. Not up for much tonight, but there's a lot of work and expense ahead.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

He is home now.

I was going to post the photo that Wings took of our final moments together, but I can't. I put wildflowers on his grave today (and Cree's, too), and I can't bring myself to post those, either. This is how I want to remember him. For the last of these posts (for now), it seemed fitting to show him at his most beautiful. After all, where he is now, this is what he looks like once again.

It's been a hard day. Virtually no sleep, mostly because of physical pain from my autoimmune disease, which was due to a combination of the physical and other stresses of the past week catching up to me and the weather front that moved in overnight. It's been raining most of the day. Probably because of all that, the sense of loss really caught up to me today — and to Wings, too, I think. I'll probably be better tomorrow, but tonight isn't good. I do owe special thanks, though, to the person who sent us something via e-mail this morning that included, in addition to two human names, "from Ice." You brought tears to our eyes, both of us, but it was such a beautiful thing to do, and we love you for remembering that.

I was supposed to spend today priming the stairwell, but nothing went according to plan. I mean nothing. I will be lucky if I get to it tomorrow, and there are three more coats to go on it, all of which will involve ladders and scaffolds. Meanwhile, with flooring in the offing over the next two weeks, I now have to turn my attention to the next big expense, which is cabinetry. I am feeling buried about now. I'm also not doing very well at putting my thoughts together tonight, at least not with any real coherence, so I'm just going to post the links for sharing:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

Thanks again, to everyone. I think I'm done in for the night, physically, mentally, every other way. Tomorrow, Ice will be still be gone home, and that'll be time enough for me to get back to dealing with other issues and tasks.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

 

Visitors, downed fences, next big expense, and my Spirit Horse.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

That was the first time Ice was hooked up to lactated ringers, more than three years ago. Hard to tell from the photo, but he had his muzzle against my hand, which was unheard-of for him back then.

By one measure, he reached his destination about 10:30 this morning. By another way of calculating it, he should reach it about that time tomorrow. He's already proven to me that he can travel freely back and forth, so I don't think it much matters; I think it transcends our understanding of time and space anyway.

I miss him terribly.

But it has been a day. Visitors this morning for a couple of hours. Then two horses from a few parcels east got out and showed up next door just on the east side of our fence — right where the cattle knocked it down earlier in the year (and the elk herd finished it off). And so Wings and I took various tools and headed out in the hottest part of the day to set several new fence posts (done the old way, with the cast-iron tube that is placed over the post and raised and hammered down by hand until the post hits the proper depth. we restrung the barbed wire temporarily; he and River will restretch it probably next week. And also next week, Miskwaki gets his blood drawn. Just to be sure.

I am, however, way behind on everything, and the last week is starting to catch up to me in a big way. Pain levels elevated, fatigue overwhelming. My heart still hurts, although it and my mind are more at peace over the whole thing than I ever could have anticipated, and Im thankful for that. Probably because we now have a better idea of what was awaiting our big tough guy all this time, and it doesn't matter how stoic he was; he couldn't have beaten it all, and it would have caused him such pain. We had to drive the ATV past his resting place several times today in the process of fixing the fence, and all I felt from it, besides my own personal sadness, was a sense of peace and freedom.
Nothing new to report on the house, because events of the day overtook everything else. I'm hoping for flooring on both levels to commence next week. If it dries out enough, maybe we'll get work on both septic and color coat the week after. Or not, if the monsoon season hangs around. But we had our first winter bird here this morning, on August tenth, so the rains may be ready to move on sooner than we thought.

For now, I need to gear up for the next big expense, which is the kitchen cabinetry. It needs to be put in, because, aside from the really obvious fact that we need storage space and cooking surfaces, we can't do things like put in the sink without the lower cabinets anyway. We need to built straight through in the proper order, which will save us time, hassle, and a LOT of money in the long run, so cabinetry it is. And I'm told to expect somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 grand before we're done. This is where Home Depot or Lowe's cards become crucial, and very, VERY useful. So here are all the links:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

Thanks again, to everyone. For now, I am absolutely beat, struggling with legs and ankles and feet, and missing my Spirit Horse, and I'm going to wrap it up for the evening.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

House coming together slowly; a lot on tap for next week. New info on Ice, too.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

Well, I've wasted entirely too much trying, without success, to find the series of Ice photos I wanted to post of the big ham for tonight. I think it was in the fall of 2015. He saw me with the camera, and started turning and swaying and flipping his mane: "Take my photo! Take my photo! Be sure you get my good side. Now my other good side. Here's my profile shot. How's that? You want more? 'Cause I can do more . . . ." This went on for several minutes, and I just stood at the fence and shot frame after frame like any other fashion photog would do.

But there are only so many hours left in this day, so this one of him in 2014, when we were just beginning to get him out of the woods, and when he was clearly posing, will have to do. Yes, you'll have to suffer through at least one more night of this, possibly two, because in our way, he will be on his journey for another day or so yet.

We learned a bit more about what happened today. His chem panel came back, and oddly, it showed no real implication of either liver or kidneys. Both were basically within normal limits, and yet the sclera of his eyes was completely jaundiced. That means, most likely, one of two things: a tumor inside; or he was hemolyzing his own blood. Or, perhaps most likely, both. After all, we learned on Saturday, along with everything else, that he had cancer; I think our mistake was in thinking it began on the outside and was working his way up. I now think it began somewhere else inside, spread, and then worked its way outside and down as the aggressive squamous-cell tumor that was visible. That would also explain why everything else hit so fast, particularly if the tumor had begun bleeding; equine digestive tracts are hypersensitive at the best of times, and are decidedly not set up to accommodate blood. If he began to bleed out internally a few weeks ago, the accumulated effect could have included triggering the primary colic that is listed as his COD.

And I am now so very, very glad that he had just a few hours over one full day that was bad, that we took away the pain before it got truly horrific.

And Esiban has no mass, no swelling, nothing whatsoever on her jaw and throat now. NO. THING. I can't imagine it was the phenobarbital, which at that level should by all rights have killed her and Smoky too; I'm thinking it must have been the Banamine in his system. Either way, she is fully healthy again. And yes, despite it all, we are doing what he would've wanted, and are not letting them go hungry.

On other fronts, the main crew is off for the week now. They finished up the doorknob assemblies, and did a lot more trim work:

Photo copyright Aji, 2017;
all rights reserved.

That's the utility room, so you can see what it looks like next to the plaster. The trim work has not yet been put on, obviously; that will come next week. This is a close-up of color comparisons (although the plaster is a warmer earthy adobe shade than it appears here): 

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

And I, fractured toes notwithstanding, have to get that stairwell wall primed and sponged and painted this weekend. Give me strength (and some coordination, too, please, and some extra energy while you're at it). Then next week they can get to work on laying the flooring upstairs and working on the stairs themselves, while the other guys lay tile downstairs.
And as I said last night, there's a lot of labor left, and costs for things like lumber that have to be incurred here. But about all that's left to buy for the inside are cabinets, appliances, and water heater (the big things; there will still be small things like the oddly-sized doors that Tony's building, the shelving, the closet bars, all that sort of thing). At this point, outside of sales, the absolute best way to help is with the Home Depot and Lowe's cards. I suspect that most of what's left will be coming from Home Depot, although that's not a given; either way, they can all be put to very good (and very necessary) use. So here are all of those links:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

As I also said, thank you again, from both of us, to everyone for your support over the last few days. I miss my boy in ways I never even anticipated; the empty space here is huge now, just like the hole in my heart. And yes, I still talk to him every day. I figure the hawk that I thought was here as his guardian but was instead to be his guide can fly high enough to deliver the messages.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

Doorknobs, lights, flooring, and small miracles that break my heart and lift it at the same time.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

What I said last night about Ice eating out of the side of the double trough? That's him doing it up there. If you look closely, you'll see the slanted end on the right, which is where the horses are supposed to eat. He always did have a problem with being confined.

At any rate, no new greetings via Miskwaki today. The other horses are grieving. Shade has been calling to him off and on all day, just as she did when we buried her mother in February, and it's breaking both our hearts. Miskwaki seems already to have internalized that his bro is not coming back from the south field, and he has been standing off by himself, head down, for much of the day. We did, however, receive notice of what seems to be a miracle of some sort, by way of Esiban and Smoky, the two starving neighbor dogs. I said last night that Wings spared me as much as he could, and I won't draw anyone a picture; that was because we had to wait a day for Johnny, and tarps and blocks and all other precautions notwithstanding, starving creatures will do what they do. For dogs, it's often fatal because of the phenobarbital. These two should not be with us now, and yet not only are they back begging every day, but that softball-sized mass on Esiban's neck? Suddenly, miraculously gone. Four days of antibiotics did almost nothing, and overnight ::poof::. Which I take as a sign that, however upset we were about it all, Ice wants us to continue to make sure they don't starve.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

For me, it's been a day of tears and small progress, and I'll take it. I've gotten substantially farther on the tile-sorting process, and Wings and River finally (finally!) pitched in shortly before today's storm hit, and they have a newfound appreciation for the progress I'd made already, given the amount of work involved (and the toll on my hands from taping cases). They got a lot of cleanup work done upstairs, preparatory to the crew starting the flooring next week. And Tony and Reynaldo got more of trim for the doors stained and sealed, and got some of the doorknobs installed. Who knew doorknobs could look so beautiful?

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

The last of the light fixtures came today, too. That closed-looking box in the foreground will go over the kitchen sink; the open one to the left is the wall fixture for the stairwell. These had their delivery dates estimated for September, then extended to October 2nd. They showed up today, so that's one thing that's complete, as far as materials (the install will probably come toward the end of the month).

Still no chance of fixing the septic system, because the ground is simply too soft; everything's mud. That may have to wait until around the first of September, if the current pattern holds. In the meantime, it appears that Floyd and Gary got held up by weather on their job from last week (it's an outdoor install), and so it looks like they'll be starting the downstairs tile next week. Which is fine, because I'm so far behind on the sorting.

There's a lot of labor left, and costs for things like lumber that have to be incurred here. But about all that's left to buy for the inside are cabinets, appliances, and water heater (the big things; there will still be small things like the oddly-sized doors that Tony's building, the shelving, the closet bars, all that sort of thing). At this point, outside of sales, the absolute best way to help is with the Home Depot and Lowe's cards. I suspect that most of what's left will be coming from Home Depot, although that's not a given; either way, they can all be put to very good (and very necessary) use. So here are all of those links:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

Thank you again, from both of us, to everyone for your support over the last few days. There is a huge void here right now; every time I go outside, I expect to see my beautiful boy staring at me, hoping for either camera or carrot. But I talk to him in the sunflowers, and I see him in the stars, and I hear him on the wind, and I guess for now, that will have to be enough.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

Loss, and Love, and a Little Progress

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

October 14th, two years ago. I've spent the last half-hour digging for that image of the big ham crunching a runt ear of Indian corn. He loved the stuff.

He also loved the camera, and would always place himself strategically in front. He was natural model, swishing from side to side to make sure I got his best profile, which of course was all of them.

We laid his body to rest in the earth today, out by Cree under a big bank of wild sunflowers. It was hot, messy, muddy, sad work, and the guys did most of it, including sparing me some really unpleasant sights. I have Wings to thank for that; he coordinated everything, and did his best to make sure I could remember our big tough guy as his happy hammy self. His body is here now:

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

That rock in the foreground? It's one of a pair of heart rocks I found for him. Wings picked for wild sunflower heads, and we placed them between and on the rocks. By next years, the sunflowers will have embraced him as fully as they have Cree.

His spirit, of course is already racing toward her. But he still makes time to fly back here momentarily to make sure we're okay. Early this morning, I went to say hello to the other horses and make sure they were okay. They share a double-sided trough, with a deep center "V" divided in half, and they stick their heads in under the angled side of the V and pull the hay out.

Ice always hated it. He'd eat from a wall trough, or off the ground, but that one? He'd stand on the side, stick his neck OVER the side of the trough, and pull the hay out from the top. Always. Not one of the other horses has EVER done that.

Until today. 

I walked out, and there was Miskwaki, on the side, neck craned over it. He raised his head, ears forward, nose pointed, eyes boring into mine. It was Ice, in every respect except for the red paint coloring. I turned away for a moment, turned back, in the space of a second or two, Miskwaki had returned to his usual position at the trough and was busy hauling hay out from underneath.

I know it was Ice, just for a moment. 

I have had a far better day than I ever deserved to have, because somehow, some way, my boy is letting me know that he's happy. He's also letting us know that he's still here, even though he's also on his way to Cree.

Speaking of which, my beloved Ono did something wonderful for us today at the GOS. It's nominally a fundraising diary (or perhaps more accurately, a sales-and-gift-card-raising diary). But what it really is is a tribute to Ice, to our warrior horse, with photos and stories and so much love in the comments that I've been weeping as many happy tears as sad ones all day long. Go visit it, just for that.

Speaking of sales and cards, we still need to do both, because we have so far yet to go. I'm also still not capable of much in the way of real writing, because my heart is still very much in piece, so in liey of that, here they are:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

Thank you, thank you, to everyone who has sent kind words and thoughts and love for Ice, and for us, the last couple of days. It means more than I'm capable of describing right now. Our boy is a spirit horse now, but I can still see him in the stars.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

White Spirits, Great and Small

Photo copyright aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

Today was much more horrible than yesterday.

Right now, I need to remember my beautiful boy as he really was, the way he was on his best days with us. This was not that, but it's still my boys in the photo up there. We both also really need rest — better yet, actual sleep, although I'm not hopeful for myself on that score. Many thanks to everyone for the kind thoughts and wishes; I'm sorry that I don't have it in me right now to respond, but my heart is in pieces. I also don't have it in me to go through the drill beyond cutting and pasting the links, so here they are:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

Wings and I had to go outside again this evening to check a few things, and as we were just about to head back in, he pointed to the dead aspen (blown down in the storm the other day) now propped against the chicken run fence next to the horses' pens. Atop it sat the tiniest bird I've ever seen outside of a hummingbird. I would've thought it was an unusually small goldfinch, but it was white. There's no such bird here. Especially not one with dark blue-gray underfeathers. Sort of like our white horse with the blue-tick undercoat. He chirped and skreed, looked straight at us, and then flew off northward in a flurry of white. Ice began his journey only this morning, but maybe he's already powerful enough to say good night by way of a tiny white bird.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

Giga-waabamin minawaa, Mikwamii. Ice, birthdate unknown, arrival date 12/24/13, walks on, 08/06/17.

Photo copyright Aji, August 4, 2017;
all rights reserved.

I will see you again, Ice.

He had — has — many names: Mikwamii. Shongeska. Ice. Tough Guy. Warrior. My Boy.

He walked on about 10:30 this morning. He's out by Cree in the ank of wild sunflowers, awaiting Johnny and his tractor, which will probably be tomorrow.

His earlier neglect before he came to us made what happened probably inevitable; the liver issues and the cancer would shorten his life anyway. But I knew, when I went out at 8:00 this morning, even though I still fought it. The earlier compromising of his gut set the stage for displacement. He was a fighter to the end, willing to try that one last thing if it was possible. But he was suffering, and we would not let him suffer more. 

Maybe someday I'll be able to write about what the damage of his early years of abuse and abandonment caused. Today is not that day. (It is not the day for much else here, either. I will put up Wings's post, probably late; that will be it.)

For now, my Warrior Boy is already on his way to Cree, who he loved so much . They will have their own herd of two right now, up above the Thunderbirds, in the brilliant ice of the stars.

We love you, Ice.

My heart is torn in half.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

What a horrible, horrible, god-awful day.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

That was what I was supposed to be doing all day today: sorting tile, weeding out the cracked and broken ones for return and boxing the rest by color so the guys can sort them easily for install.

Did I? Of course not.

A slight digression here, because I really, REALLY need to get this out of my system. My day began in one of the circles of hell, because of everything my autoimmune-disease-riddled body is forced to go through living in this fucking tin can. Do you have any idea of what it takes for me just to get into and out of bed in this thing? I'm not talking here about my body, although that's a hugely complicating factor; I'm talking about layout and logistics and how impossible it is in literal terms.

I smashed my left foot a week ago. I've been overcompensating with my right ever since. I woke up this morning with the right ankle subluxed and with a stress injury as a result, meaning, essentially, that I could barely walk. And speaking of "waking up," that's relative, because I mostly don't sleep anymore. I can't. The pain is too great, and essential discomfort of this place aggravates it so badly that I exist in a summering cauldron of pain every second. This latest migraine has been my companion for lo, these last four weeks, and after this day, it's exploded to whole new levels. I have probably walked the equivalent of more than three hours and at least as many miles today, on these feet, and I just got in at twenty after nine, the air outside so cold that I could see my breath. There is not a single nerve ending or muscle or joint that is not screaming at me, and I can barely hobble.

Why?

Because we very nearly lost this guy today.

Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved.

I'm going to issue a prophylactic warning here, because I am literally at the very end of my tether: No one come in here and try to give me the 101 on any of this. We both know it, inside and out; if we didn't, he wouldn't have survived to be with us these nearly four years. We don't need advice; we know what to do. He needs good vibes.

Those of you who know us well know that he was a starved, abused, and abandoned rescue, one who turned out to have had a case of sand colic developed over years of starvation prior to finding us. You also know that the vet gave him essentially no chance of survival, but she worked with us, and we worked with him, and we brought him out of it, as much as possible. It's been more than three years, and he still flares up occasionally (the impaction was so huge that he will likely erode it a bit at a time over the course of the rest of his life), but he's been essentially fine. He and Miskwaki were playing last night in the cool air, running and jumping and bucking and pitching just for the sheer joy of it.

He went down this morning.

It's a very, very bad case of colic, but of about three varieties layered atop one another, and at least two other issues besides. The sand colic (and the resulting compromised gut) made him vulnerable, and the climate change-induced weather weirdness added to that. I have another environmental factor that I'm convinced is part of it, but I'll keep my mouth shut for the moment, because I'm not sure how I'd prove it. At any rate, thanks to the sand colic issue, and the regular weather-induced colic tendencies that horses all over the county are fighting right now, it seems that for a few weeks, this problem has been brewing deep in his gut, slowly compacting what's in there a little at a time. This is not sand; it's hay and feed. And no, he's not dehydrated or getting the wrong stuff. Everything just went very wrong at the sam time, and even with a minimal case of colic in a healthy horse, it can be brewing for weeks on end and nothing at all shows up until the day the horse goes down.

But. He's also jaundiced, which means that his liver is implicated. Whether it's cause or effect of the colic complex is impossible to tell at this juncture. It may be related to something else entirely. Because we also learned that he has cancer: squamous-cell sarcoma, in a very unfortunate place (which is why we didn't notice it), and while it's usually localized and not especially metastatic throughout the body, it's also very aggressive and fast-moving, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it before fly season ends in October or November. That will be either cryo or chemo, and we hope for the best, but it means that I am going to lose my Warrior Boy long before I should, even though that date is, per the vet, way down the road yet.

So I walked him for about two hours this morning, while we tried to reach the horse vet; she's the only one in the county, and cell signals here are trash anyway. I am sunburned, hobbling, bitten everywhere by mosquitoes and flies, and absolutely miserable. It's nothing compared to what Ice is feeling. 

When she got here, early- to mid-afternoon, he had no gut sounds whatsoever, which is a bad sign. We sedated and tubed him (water and mineral oil) to try to loosen things up a bit and let him rest, with instructions to call her if he was in more discomfort later, so she could come back out and tube him again. I took him out briefly, tried to get him to graze (stimulates peristalsis — essentially, gut movement), and he wanted to eat but couldn't bring himself to do it. No water, either. We let him back in with the others, and he spent most of his time lying down, fairly quietly. And the bloating got worse, until he looked like a pregnant mare near-term. I walked him, he passed eight small rock-hard nodules, then Wings took over and he passed a little more, but he was still hugely uncomfortable. We Banamined him again and called the vet. She got here just before dark, and we spent over an hour resedating and retubing him, and then setting up two bags of lactated ringers hanging from the stall ceiling, IV'ing him, and hooking him up. He went through this three-plus years ago, and it saved his life. We hope it'll do the same this time.

I have to go back at midnight to check the ringers; then again around two. No sleep for me again tonight. And I have no idea what all this is going to set us back; the last time we did this, it wound up running more than 2 grand.

Which brings me to the link shares, because now we REALLY have to make some more sales. We have to pay the horse vet, but beyond the immediate issue, we HAVE to get out of this godforsaken place. It is literally killing us. So please, PLEASE share these links:

• Wings's site, for sales;
• Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
• Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
• Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.

I have an hour in which to try to figure out a way to unwind my body and be able to walk again, enough to go out there and take care of whatever needs doing with the IV. then two more hours before I have to do it again, and probably another two after that. I am beat, and I have nothing left for anything except to plead for good vibes for our tough guy. 

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.

One Year On: Gift of a White Horse

I took these today, on the one-year anniversary, almost to the very moment, of this boy's arrival on our land. Either Monday or Tuesday was the anniversary of his first appearance in the area; he had materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, on the north side of the fence. It took him until late afternoon on Christmas Eve to work up the courage to cross onto our side.

He never left.