grief is the price we pay for love.

by the time i got to the barn for morning chores, taz was hunched by the door and shaking with pain. i had never seen a real case of colic before but after running through the bullet points we learned in recruit class, it was a clear diagnosis.

still, i ran through my training as the owners (away on vacation, of course) phoned the vet. get him moving, don’t let him lay down. make note of manure, check heart rate and breathing.

for a half hour in the cold, raw rain he and i walked the muddy paddock. i walked on his right side, since his left eye was blind-white. i talked to him constantly, we listed to wardruna and i must have fought him fifteen times whenever the pain was too great and he begged me to let him lay down.

after an eternity, the vet arrived and we got to work. she gave him good pain medicine to get him comfortable and we sheltered in his stall while she gathered vitals. no fever, very fast heart rate. impacted manure, a large pocket of gas and three twists in the intestines.

“this isn’t good,” she said sternly and i nodded. i knew better than to fight her. she called the owner and discussed options. moving him to a clinic, saturate his fluids and oil up the intestines. monitor progress minute by minute. they went back and forth, and i stroked his nose. he watched me with his good eye and although sedated, i could see him focus on me.

first, denial. then bartering. then anger. fear. three stages of grief all at once, and i was a bystander to the crater opening up under everyone’s feet.

i brushed away some bedding from taz’s forelock and kissed the pale star on his forehead. the vet stepped outside and i felt my heart sink. i kept a straight face and kept breathing, i had a job to do.

“so the owner decided we’re not gonna put him through the stress of transporting. we’re going to put him down here.”

i nodded. the crater opened up and the whole world spun around it. i clutched at taz’s lead rope and stood still while she retrieved a few glass bottles from her medical box. sedatives and a fatal cocktail, in a soft shade of lavender.

i painted a rune into taz’s fur and set down a whole bale of shavings in his stall while we waited for the owner’s son to arrive. the vet asked if i wanted to stay, but i politely excused myself to provide privacy to the family in his last moments.

i cried the whole way home, my boots covered in sawdust and my hands and coat smeared in taz’s snot. the weather had soaked my clothes but i hardly noticed it as i sat in front of my altar, numb and painful. by then, taz was gone, and i demanded odin take him to his fine pastures, this one-eyed chestnut boy who was so brave and strong.

i hardly knew him, but i couldn’t be more honored to be part of the process.

rest easy, taz.