The animals here bring me great joy. Every day I think of how much I love them all. There is also another side to this. If you have animals, you will undoubtedly experience loss. Since we moved here, we’ve parted company with two horses, two goats, three dogs, and about and eight chickens. Not bad, considering we have now lived here close to twenty years.

Now and then those gone have popped up on my computer screen, bringing back memories, reminding me that after they’re gone, all that’s left are memories.

I inwardly brace myself for what’s to come in terms of loss. The lifespan of horses,

Hrimmi's mother Signy is no longer with us

goats, dogs, and chickens is less than that of humans. This is one of life’s greatest unfairness’s.

I was reminded of the above this morning. Every morning, as I head down to the enclosure, I do a head count and see four large heads featuring thick forelocks waiting impatiently by the gate. This morning, as I headed down the driveway, I only saw three heads. My first thought was that I’d inadvertently left the gate open. My second thought was that someone else inadvertently left the gate open, or deliberately opened it. I looked again, and realized that I didn’t see Tinni.

I looked down at the ground, in front of his shelter. There I saw what appeared to be Tinni, blanketed, absolutely still. I presumed he was dead because he’s always waiting impatiently for his breakfast.

I have this thing about death – I can’t handle looking at corpses. I ran back up to the cabin and I told Pete, who was making breakfast, that Tinni was dead. I said I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. I felt myself, as I said this, going into shock. Any second, I felt like I was going to pass out.

He said he’d be right out. I went back outside thinking that I would cover him up and feed the mares. I came to the spot where I previously saw him down, and looked again, hoping with all my might to see four heads with thick forelocks. And yes, this is what I saw. Tinni had been down, but he got up.

I ran back inside and told Pete, then ran outside to where the horses were. I entered Tinni’s pen and gave him a big hug. He pushed me with his nose, like he usually does. I gave him a treat.

To say I felt relieved is an understatement. All day, as I interacted with him and the others, I was filled with euphoria. This too, when I took him for a walk on the trails. The sun was shining bright and the sky behind the white snowcapped mountains was a shade of dark blue. Yes, I know that Tinni is 31 years old, and like me, he is in the twilight of his years. And I know that someday I am going to have to deal. But not now, no not now. I need him and he needs me.

Stranger things have happened. I wondered if he died and then came back to life, the powers that be realizing that it wasn’t yet his time. This is likely, given that one minute he was down and the next he was up.

All day I also felt like the above incident was a bad dream. It had that feel about it. Like all bad dreams, it will seem less vivid in a few days. How lucky I am, every day that they are all here.

Next: 37. 2/6/21: A Conversation with Tinni