No matter how small a life, I still feel terribly helpless watching it come to an end. I am freakishly uncomfortable with death; why or how this came to be I do not know.
What I do know is that country living ought to do the trick. Yesterday there was a dead owl in front of my parents' house (killed, we think, by our resident family of red foxes), and the first official night i stayed there, the neighbor's horse died. And I mean, I walked over to feed it some hay because it was hanging by our fence, and something was terribly wrong. He was sweating heavily, breathing hard, stumbling, sighing, and not in a good way. Long story short, the very eve that I introduce myself to this horse ("Yeah! We have a horse next door!"), the freaking thing dies. It was horrible. And it happened so fast. If I had to write a dialogue about it, it would go something like this:
"Oh, look, Jack! The neighbor's horse came to introduce himself. I'm gonna go feed him some hay."
Camie approaches the horse, pets it's nose and notices it's not looking too good.
"Hey, mom. Come look at him. He's not looking too good. Maybe bring over an apple; all horses love apples."
"Hmmm, he's not eating the apple either. Oh no, he just fell over. Shit! He can't get up. What do we do?"
Camie goes and tells the one neighbor they've met across the street what's going on. Thirty minutes after Camie excitedly first meets the horse, he's dead. Turns out, after 27 years of living, he chooses to die the same hour he meets her.
Yes, I do believe country living will indeed help get me more acquainted with death. I can't say I'm excited about that.
1 comment:
Well, he died with caring beings giving him some love, so you can go with that. Or, his life was complete once he met you, and he could finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, you are off the hook!
Missing you!
Colleen
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