Major, beloved family member of the Boyce/McQueen family, died today. Major was 32 years old.
Major came to this family almost four years ago. His big Tennessee Walker body glistening in good health. He stayed that way, too, right up into his last moments. The vet's comments were, "I have never seen a horse this old, look this good."
I hadn't mentioned it yet but our regular vet is out of commission for awhile. He was gored by a bull last week. He is irreplacable anyway but to find another vet to tredge out here to look after someone else's patients isn't easy.
On Friday night, Major had a fever. We had to find someone willing to come out to see him. No one would even call us back. On Sunday, we called a local vet and begged for at least a phone consult. I talked with him yesterday, we decided on a course of treatment with the understanding he would come out today if Major wasn't improving. He worsened overnight. The vet came out. Poor old guy had pnemonia and heart failure. No amount of money in the world could save him. He died peacefully with his loving family surrounding him, stroking his velvet coat and telling him how much they loved him.
He is buried behind the riding ring, safely sent to Heaven with peppermints and a good portion of feed to tide him over till he gets there.
Major was one of the best equines I had ever met. A baby could ride him. We lost a great friend.
As I look back at the last four years with this old guy, I realize how blessed we were that he came into our lives. And, I hurt knowing my best friends are dealing with the grief of losing him. Life isn't fair.