The little bay wild pony mare we called Cocoa was curious about her situation. She couldn’t stand up. After eight years of enjoying freedom, hay and soft mashes, while avoiding a human’s touch, she now found it to be heaven. She leaned into the oil massages, the shiatsu, the T-touch, and loved the homeopathics with apple juice, the warm mashes, the herbs, and being stroked and loved. She didn’t even get frightened when a rug was put over her at night. She told me it was surprising to her, how good being loved like this really felt. And even though she was free, it healed her mistrust of humanity. It healed her grief at the loss of her daughter.
Her daughter in spirit was hanging around. I knew in my heart, that Cocoa wouldn’t stand up again. And despite her perkiness, she wouldn’t be with us long. She had been finding the August part of winter hard in recent years. We always fed her soft mashes until the sweet grass came.
We slept with her out on top of the little hill that was to become her final resting place. While her family sometimes visited, we were her protectors, taking it in turns around the clock, to make sure she was safe. She knew we were there.
I was teaching that weekend in town, and my senior students and I would do healing on her at every spare opportunity, and send Divine Love energy. But when I got back home, I knew my Cocoa was no longer there. I stroked her face and gave her water to drink. I knew this would be her last night with us. Thank you for waiting for me little one. It was an honour to serve you.
I took a hot water bottle and a blanket and lay down on the grass beside her. Above us stretched the vast universe of stars and dark sky. She reached for the Lavender and Peace and Calming essential oils, as I softly sang her spirit free to the Summerlands, my hands resting lightly on her cheek. Spirit, her herd leader, came quietly up to say goodbye. He looked at her gently before he turned away. “Farewell, Grandmother”, was the essence of his exchange. I’ll never forget that moment, of being one with the herd.
Her body rested peacefully, going through the stages of leaving, while her spirit flew free with me, following me in the dark across the paddock to our home. She was curious about life and humans and she was young and vital and free. Andrew did the graveyard shift, guarding her body while it shut down. He came in the early hours of the morning, with the words that she had gone.
She was buried where she lay, after a short ceremony. Her spirit still hung there in the wind, curious, not quite ready to leave. But she would, I knew. She had a powerful message for us all – “Trust in the process of life, and know there are angels all around.”
We can all be angels. Human angels for the animals we love.
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Billie Dean can be found at billiedean.com, wildpureheart.com and deeppeacetrust.com. Copyright © Billie Dean, 2013. You are welcome to share this article but only in its complete form with author and website attached. Thank you!