February marks the twentieth anniversary of my father’s death. A kind, gentle man, he was known for his wit, his love of family and generous nature.
My father loved his grandchildren. I remember the broad smile on his face when little Sarah would help him in and out of his hospice bed. He would smile down at her as she lifted his feet from the floor into the bed, the pain leaving his face if only for a moment, replaced with love and joy. Only three, she did not realize how important this one small act of helpfulness was to a dying man.
And Josh, his smile widening the moment he saw his abolito. He would rush in after school to sit by his grandfather’s bedside and begin to recount the day’s events. My father’s final days were filled with love and enjoyment with his grandchildren!
My father loved his children but in a quiet, indemonstrable way. Like many men of his time, he was not sure how to be a father not knowing loving us was enough. He was always there for my brother and me although we did not realize it at the time.
My father and I did not get along for many years most likely because we did not understand or know how to relate to one another. We also were too much alike. Strong, determined to the point of being stubborn, creative and kind, yet often contentious.
I remember my mother often complaining she could not stand the two of us in the house at the same time! We did not learn to understand one another until the end-stage of my father’s life, but those final
few precious years are the most important in my life to date.
So what made a difference in our lives and our father/daughter relationship?
Enter Snoops, an aging Tobiano paint horse. My father loved this horse. They shared an affection that is uncommon for horse and man. And Snoops helped to forge a bond between my father and myself that has withstood time and my father’s passing.
There was never a dull moment once Snoops entered our lives! I remember the day Snoops broke out of the pasture several mares escaping with him! He was there at the recommendation of the Barn Manager to gain weight after almost succumbing to starvation. Apparently the sudden intake of high energy feed gave him dreams of being a stallion with his own herd to rule! It took several men on horseback many hours to catch Snoops and his harem!
I remember how my father loved to spend time with his horse, how happy it made him, helping him to regain his health. We would take long trail rides together in the local hills and talk about everything, an activity we infrequently engaged in before Snoops came into our lives. Snoops and my mare seemed to listen to our conversation, their ears moving forward or backward in sync with our vocal intonations.
Snoops would run to the paddock fence when he heard my dad’s car arrive. There he would stand, waiting for my father, stomping his back legs in rhythm with the flicking of his tail! His behavior seemed more like a canine companion than a horse.
I suspect my mother was jealous of Snoops. I remember my father saying to her one morning as he left for the ranch, that his life was now ‘…complete…’ now that he had Snoops. Time devoted to his horse could have been spent painting or renovating the house, landscaping the garden, paying the bills, or some such activity. Perhaps time to take mom to lunch, shopping, the theatre or a movie. Instead there was a trail of horse manure throughout the house, and a husband too tired from riding to be of much use! And the money!
Snoops’ departure from our lives was a heartbreaking event-he seemed to know his death was imminent. My dad and I watched him say goodbye to my mare with a muzzle ‘kiss’ as the vet walked him to the pasteur. She walked to the back of her paddock and whinnied to Snoops as he was led one last time to the pasteur he loved so much! Snoops was a proud horse, and even in pain, he knowingly walked to his death with his head high and a firm step on the ground. My dad and I bade Snoops a loving farewell. Then the vet took away his pain.
When Snoops was put down for untreatable colic, a part of my father died with him. After Snoops’ death, my dad’s health declined rapidly. The decrease in physical activity and with time now passing slowly, my dad lost interest in just about everything. He was never the same.
Because of Snoops, I have very fond memories of my father and the short time we had together as father and daughter. I learned to love my dad, to care for him during his last days because of a horse. Both live in my heart forever!
