For the love of Jack…
A rather handsome chestnut colt born with a flaxen mane and tail looking every inch like he’d grow up to be the spitting image of Stubbs’s great portrait: Whisltejacket. He showed great promise too: winning bumpers and hurdle races, in preparation for his real career as a national hunt chaser.
Before my career was terminated by the onset of RA…Jack was the last foal I helped into this world. He was my darling. I adored him.
Last night I heard that he’d died on the operating table after a failed colic operation. He was six years old.
So far, I have not shed a tear…I’m simply numb.
For once, I’m not going to ask …WHY?
Or look for answers.
Or try to make sense of yet another tragedy to befall Lizzie’s equine collection.
I will simply accept.
But I can still picture him the day he was born, all shiny and new as his dam heaved him out of her body into this crazy world…that amazing process of birth, which thrilled me for years….and I miss so deeply, never ceased to burst my heart wide open and make me cry.
Jack was a darling, so cheeky and playful, as all thoroughbred foals tend to be, with a sense of his own grandeur and invincibility.
I miss my old life, but particularly the part where I could witness such beauty and grace and mischief.
In the big global scheme of disasters, Jack’s passing wouldn’t be registering on the Richter scale but to me it’s the end of an era.
It’s not just that there won’t be any more CJ delivered horses on the race card.
It’s that my heartache goes on. Unending…
I miss horses. I miss being with horses. I miss the connection. I miss the sounds that they make. I miss the wonderful smell of their coats, their soft muzzles…
Farewell darling Jack…
And now for the tears.
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