How Harley Kept His Promise

Anyone who makes a lifetime commitment to a horse, faces the dreaded day when they will have to say goodbye to their cherished friend. That day for Harley and I came much earlier than I wanted.

This story is for those who face the heart-breaking decision of euthanizing their horse. It is also for anyone, who under any circumstances, has had to help their friend go to that place we call The Rainbow Ridge. This is a true story. It really, really happened.

I hope it brings you even a fraction of the hope and comfort it continues to bring me.

March 11, 2007: I looked into my Shetland Pony's big brown eyes and we talked, woman to pony. He tucked his nose beneath my armpit and said he was sorry. But it was time for him to go.

"I'm not afraid," he told me through animal communicator Mary Getten.

"I will try really, really hard to come and see you in my dreams."

March 14, 2007: I told Harley I would share the lessons he had taught me. I told him everything he went through would help other ponies.  We laid in the sunshine in the pine shavings outside the barn. A few hours later, the vet came.  at 3:30 p.m., I walked my friend to his favorite pasture. I grabbed his mane and whispered my final goodbye, trusting my little friend to keep his word.

The First Dream:  Harley's kiss was sweet and tender and full of love -- nose to forehead. A comforting little boy energy, as if to tell me: "Don't worry! I'm O.K."

I bolted awake.

The Second Dream: The pumpkin colored pony with the thick, golden mane ran as fast as he could through the silver gate and into the pasture. He loved the way his strong feet and legs connected to the muscles in his shoulders and in his entire body. He made me feel that, how exhilarating that felt.  "I'm a powerhouse," he thought at me. "Close to the ground but ready to fly."

Harley was flanked by two other ponies -- a black and white pinto and a chestnut. The three of them laughed as they burst into the wide open pasture.

The Third Dream: The early morning mist covered the Oregon Mountains. Harley walked easily, quickly, across the rock covered ground, his strong hooves impervious to their sharp and jagged edges.  Vashka and Sunny, Harley's close Arabian friends, greeted Harley with great happiness.  It had been a few weeks since they last talked.

Groggily, I made my way out the front door and into the paddock to feed Vashka and Sunny. It had been so hard to make the mental transition to caring for two horses instead of three. I had to keep telling myself: Two feed bowls, not three. Two blankets, not three. To treats, not three.

"Harley's not here anymore," I kept reminding myself.

But on that morning, there were three horses, not two. There was Harley, as vibrant and alive as ever.  He was so shiny and golden, as if he had eaten a thousand vitamins and been dunked in the sun itself.

"Harley!"

"Lori!"

My pony walked to me and nuzzled my hand.  Yes, it was really him. Completely healed. Completely happy. He wanted me to know that. So he had kept his promise and come back to show me.

He had kept his promise.

Now it was time for me to keep mine.

"SKODE"

Comments

[Angie]

Awwww, that is such a beautiful story!