My default state of being is one of (possibly annoying) positivity and optimism. Most of the time, I genuinely believe that things will work out just fine. And usually, they do!
Obviously, Marrakesh’s life did not go according to plan. That’s upsetting, and it’s been hard for me to find the upside of this situation. I know I don’t have to find positives- no one’s asking me to- but it’s something I can’t help trying to do.
The bright spot in this mess is Gina. Gina’s healthy and well. She doesn’t seem unduly distressed. Over the weekend, she spent some time whinnying and pacing but she’s settled back in with Moe and Candy without a lot of fuss. (We’ll see how Candy handles Gina’s return.) Gina looks like a feral broodmare right now. She’s on the thin side, has long, chipped hooves, and the length of her mane makes me cringe. That’s all easily fixed, though. A few weeks of extra feed, a visit from the farrier, and an appointment with the pulling comb will have her looking like her normal self again.
A healthy and well Gina means I’ll have my foxhunting partner back this season. That’s something I’m definitely looking forward to! Candy still has a ways to go before she’ll be a reliable foxhunter, and I didn’t relish the thought of taking Moe. (I think he’d be fine; I think I’d end every hunt completely exhausted!) Gina is a wonderful, enjoyable hunter.
I’m also looking forward to a decrease in veterinary spending. No expense was spared on Marrakesh, and that would have continued to be the case had he lived. That was fine, but I’m a little relieved I won’t continue to receive bills from the clinic that require extra postage because they’re so thick. Of course, horses continuously find new and clever ways to become ill or injured, but my three have always been pretty low maintenance. Knock on wood.
It’s also a relief to stop worrying. The worst has happened. The other shoe has dropped. I don’t have to feel sick with anxiety or dread a phone call from the vet. I can resume my normal state of low-level horse-centric anxiety, which largely consists of panicking that Moe is dead when he’s merely napping.
Of course, I’d rather have a healthy foal than any of that, but there’s no use wishing for something that can’t be. I’ll keep looking to the future with as much optimism as I usually do. Everything will be fine, I’m sure.