Thursday, August 12, 2010

A Hard Summer

Summer has touched all of us who own livestock, and for too many, it left tragedy in its wake. Whether it was failed breedings where pregnancies were absorbed, or decomposed, requiring a uterine flush, or worse, complete loss, we are all affected. As connections among our social and professional networks grow, so does our combined grief and mourning for our friends. Their losses.

Our losses. Unborn crias. Bloodlines interrupted. Ended. The joy of a morning walk. Watching the evening sky with our best friends. The incomparable nuzzling. Conversations and shared secrets sealed. A very large presence, almost unbearable, of absence.

I cannot tell you why; I can only tell you I believe. If we want them to, I think those who pass stay with us, and return in unusual ways to remind us how much they loved us before they left. If we open our hearts, their love always returns to us. Remains with us.

Hope and prayers and white light, sent your way. We are with you.


  1. I think that sharing life with animals, keeps us much more connected to the cycle of life and death. As difficult as it can be, and is at times, it is humbling for us. Humble is good, we appreciate what we have all the more and take very little for granted.

  2. I grew up in a funeral home, so I thought I had better insulation than most for the life-death process. Certainly lots of exposure. And usually, at least the public me, handles and copes fairly well. For some reason, perhaps the impact of multiple deaths, I am having trouble laying Julie to rest. But I will. I always do. It just takes time, and even with a new puppy at my side, playing with her food ball, being the jewel that she is, moments return me to loss. Happy for what I have had, always. Remember, always. Just with less sorrow in time, when the memory will come with a smile, like a gentle nudge, a piece of the past. All good.