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Love

Jun 25 2021

Facebook: The Horse that Heaven Forgot

In these times, the wellbeing of equines,  horses and donkeys, is threatened along many fronts, from legal, round-ups, legislation, poor care, and outright abandonment.   These abusive outrages are global.  Then, there are the kill auctions where they seem to meet the end of the road.  I believe from there they are sold to Canada or Mexico to be processed for consumption, something that is not allowed in this country.  So on one hand, we as a country love horses and donkeys enough not to want to eat them, but we are okay with abusing and neglecting them, and sending them to kill auctions.

I would like to think most Americans do not know anything about this, they believe the sanitized images they see in magazines or on television of affluent people riding their beautifully turned out horses and assume all horses are living that kind of life.  Nothing can be further from the truth.  Horses and donkeys starve to death or die of a disease every day, and their plight is worse in other countries.

If I write about horses and donkeys in my blog from time to time, it is not because I am too lazy to write about my borzoi, it is because I know most people have huge hearts and do not know about their plight.  I believe if they knew, they may  want to donate to a horse or donkey charity, of which there are many all over the country and the world.  With that in mind, I would like to post a poem that appeared on Facebook by Sally Marsh on January 16, 2021.  It touched my heart and I hope it touches yours, too, or at the least, makes you sensitive to the needs and cares of the equines, the little beasts of burden, with which we share our lives.

The Horse that Heaven Forgot

Sally Marsh

January 16, 2021

Winter came sharply to the field on the hill, where the old horse stood patiently his back turned against the chill.

His raggedy frame now bony, a shadow of his former self.

In his younger days, this gallant horse had been kept in the finest of health,

His owner, Bob, had doted on him and always been by his side, but now it had been a long time since they went for their daily ride.

Bob had grown much slower as he brought out the sweet, fresh hay,

Slower and more quiet each and every day.

One morning things were different.  Bob just didn’t arrive.

And the old horse watched the ambulance as it made its way down the drive.

Three days went past and the old horse waited by the gate.  But he knew in his heart, his old friend was not just late.

He raised up his gentle head to look up to the sky, watching the heavy rain clouds as they swirled and drifted by.

He hoped Bob was happy and warm and safe up there, he would always miss his companionship, his love, his care.

Sheltered beneath the oak tree he stood sadly, not moving from his spot.

Was he now going to be the horse heaven forgot?

Quiet footsteps approaching soon made him prick up his ears, and soon a gentle voice was dispelling all his fears.

The kind girl whispered softly, “Don’t worry; I am here to take you home.

Grandpa made me promise not to ever leave you alone.”

The old horse breathed deeply as she held his heavy head, he knew now he would be loved again, kept warm, dry and fed.

Side by side they wandered along the bumpy track, fresh food in his belly, a rug upon his back.

In his new home he had shelter and grass so tall and green, his hay net was always full, and his water bucket clean.

When the young girl would call him he headed for her in his finest trot,

Now happy that he was not the horse that heaven forgot.

 

Written by Lorene · Categorized: American History, Culture, Family Lilfe, Horses, Love, Rescue, Rural Landscapes

Apr 06 2021

The days after Easter at Blyss

It was just Easter on Sunday, and on Saturday, I spent the day with my son and his wife at the home of his wife’s parents with the baby, my grand-daughter, Piper Starling.  It was a fun day because  I got to hold the baby a lot, and she likes me to hold her.  In addition to that, many people have commented that of everyone there, she resembled me the most, even some Facebook friends commented on the resemblance.  She is very verbally precocious and charming.  My son made a delicious leg of lamb, and I bought a very special decorated cake for Easter in the shape of an Easter egg from the very creative, upscale bakery in Summit, Natale’s.  On Sunday, I was invited to an Easter dinner with my sister and her family, including her son Logan, who happens to be my God-son, whom I love very much.  I had not seen Logan in about two years due to the COVID quarantine.  It was a lot of emotional stimulation and excitement for one weekend.

I posted pictures from both days on Facebook, happy pictures and posts.  I have not been well since my sudden, forced separation from my last boyfriend of one year on Valentine’s Day weekend.   Last week would have been our first anniversary of meeting face-to-face, a joyous occasion, allowing us to be in quarantine together.  I have to ask myself why I am such a loser in my relationships with men.  It is the ruination of my happiness and my life.  I wish it would just end and be over because I cannot take the pain and the loneliness anymore.  The last one swore we would be forever so I am shaken to the core this time.  He has since ghosted me.   I don’t know how someone does that.

But I have my beloved Kensey, who makes me very happy.  She is always there for me with her emotional support.  Moreover, I will be attending the spring dog shows, both locally on the first weekend in May, and in Ohio, where the Borzoi Club of America will be holding its specialty show during the last week of May.  These are reasons for joy.  I will be among friends and their borzoi, and being happy.  I will see many people whom I only see at this show, and it will warm my heart.

If only my boyfriend had not abandoned me in February, this could have been such a happy time.   He is a hard hearted person, one has to have a heart of stone to act the way he acts, knowing how much I loved him.  But we can only be who we are, and that is who he is.  People do what they want to do.  He needs to be free of the ties that bind in a relationship whereas I need to be held close and loved. And I still love him so much I could die of it.

Written by Lorene · Categorized: Borzoi, Dogs, Family Lilfe, Friendship, Grief, Love, Morals&Ethics, Travel

Mar 30 2021

Remembering Bob and Opal at Blyss

This month, March, is the tenth anniversary of my husband, Bob’s, death.  I find myself recalling him a great deal, what we were doing when we learned he was sick, and how little time we had left together, of  how he was robbed.  He had another great love in his life, greater than his for me, that being his two sons.  They were just entering adult life when he died.  He did not see them grow into young men, get married, and have children of their own.  I think he would have truly enjoyed that.  I believe he would have found the thrilling bliss in that that I found with the borzoi, although he did love his borzoi, too.  For me, I learned I never really knew what love was, never having had it growing up as a child.

My childhood was an ordeal of survival behind enemy lines, with parents ruling the house like they were Gestapo agents, imprisoning their children, ruling them with what can only be described as a rule book that grew thicker with every passing day.

Their favorite adages were: Spare the rod, spoil the child; and, You should only kiss your children when they are asleep.  They did not notice that their three children were growing up despising them and being totally self destructive.  They were too busy being angry all the time, with one another, and their offspring.    Somehow, sadly, we survived.

I understand Bob had a happy childhood, with laid back and easy going parents.  He, and all his siblings, always appeared to have smiles on their faces.  My siblings and I were profoundly emotionally disturbed, and did not wear smiles well.  We looked rather ghoulish with smiles on our faces, so we practiced looking in mirrors trying to look intelligent or serious instead.  It seems particularly sad that  I, who am so damaged, am left alive while Bob had to die ten years ago.  I feel so sorry for him that he had to miss so much happy, quality, family time.    I know how precious it is, but I had to learn about it from borzoi.

Borzoi taught me about love, human love.  I thought I loved Bob when I married him, but I had been made too damaged by my mother to be able to love anyone again.  It was fun and easy to love the borzoi.  When I look back at my old photographs with them, I don’t recognize myself.  I look so healthy, and am always beaming in a huge smile I cannot diminish.  In January, 2005, we  bought Opal.  I became manic with joy.  Eighteen months later she died, and I crashed into a devastating depression and have never been the same again.  I cannot forget what I lost when she died, my greatest loss, my heart itself, my joy that only she brought me.   I have read accounts like this by  other people sometimes on FB, not often, because usually people have multiple borzoi and the others help the owner get over the loss.  However, sometimes, a kennel will have one of those very extraordinary borzoi that transcends who and what it is, and when the owner writes about it, I recognize and understand what has happened to them.

Somehow, I am learning to love and smile, because I have grown from that place.  In the process, I have learned that Opal made a difference in my life, by enabling me, after almost 15 years, me to experience love and joy again.  I do not mourn her, I celebrate her, every day.  I was the luckiest person in the world to have had her.  I believe we will be reunited upon my death.  Opal is my definition of heaven.  Someday, when she comes up to me and looks up, and then hit me with her paw, like she used to, then, she will never be far away again.

Written by Lorene · Categorized: Borzoi, Depression, Dogs, Family Lilfe, Friendship, Grief, Love, Opal, Suburban Landscapes, Suburbs

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