The day had come. While most people would be happy, I dreaded it. I had that feeling, the one you get when you’re alone and you see a shadow across your wall, unable to identify what it is. The moment flashes, when a mild panic and anxiety passes over you, and all you want to do is crawl under blankets, to hide away from whatever it was. Today was like this, when you feel a sense of dread, but maybe a glimmer of hope that everything will be fine; maybe if you leave it alone, it will go away. I knew this was in his best interest, a better place to live out his days of doing nothing, to be loved by someone else besides me. It was selfish of me, thinking that keeping him in a place where we barely visited was better. It was in everyone’s best interest to let him go, and I would always be able to visit him anyway, if I ever felt like revisiting today, remembering all the years before. The only way to know when the journey ends is to start. 

Today was the day that we were giving our horse, Kix, to my cousins. After many months of Kix having Head Shaking Syndrome, we had come to the conclusion that we could no longer keep him, for board was too much money for a horse we could not ride. My mom and I had researched the disease and found out that Kix had the worst of it; he was too dangerous to ride. It started out as a little upwards flick of his nose, we didn’t think much of it. It slowly crept up to a violent pushing motion, and occasional bucking and rearing. I had thought it was behavioral, and Kix needed to be worked out of it to teach him that flicking his nose was unacceptable. After research, we learned that horses flick their noses when in distress, the main nerve running through their face would flare, and the horse would flick to try and relieve themselves, often rubbing their nose or face on something, anything that could help them. Kix had shown all these symptoms, and even while we weren’t riding him. It wasn’t natural, and no one wanted to have an animal you knew was in pain, so we did what we thought was best.
Little did I know, my cousin had a horse, and they were looking for a pasture pet to keep company for their horse, which meant the horse wouldn’t be ridden. They found out we were putting Kix down, so they quickly diverted our attention to donating him to live on their farm, with their horse, Rusty. My mom readily agreed, at least she could visit the animal she had grown very close to in the four short years we had Kix. Today was the day we were taking him to live with Rusty, but it was raining; the sun was hidden by the clouds, almost like the sun was hiding something.

On the drive to get Kix, I had so much hope held within in me, I felt like my heart was in my throat. This was a new start, a new place, the beginning of the end. Considering yesterday was the day we had scheduled for Kix to be put down, I felt like we had accomplished something, he had lived to see another day.

Once at the barn where we boarded Kix, my dad went to hook up the trailer. I rushed to where our things were, grabbing what I thought his new owners could use, such as his blanket and a halter not too badly worn from the elements; you could still tell what color it was. I walked down the barn aisle back to the truck, only to find my mom had brought Kix up from where we lived. He was lazily hanging his head over the side of a stall door, his white blaze streaked with mud. I sensed he knew something was up, his ears perked forward and he seemed to motion to me as I continued outside, my clothes now glistening from the rain, the soggy gravel rising up on the sides of my boot.

I gingerly set Kix’s items in the back of the truck where I sat, and shut the door. I headed back to the barn, grabbing treats before I set back to where my companion of four years stood. I gave him a treat and he shook his head up and down, almost as if to say thanks. In the midst of the moment, he flicked his nose up, and proceeded to rub it on the stall door. My heart fell like the rain outside. Maybe bringing him somewhere else wasn’t the best idea; something could happen there and we wouldn’t know. 

My mom had come to load him up in the trailer, so I went outside to jump in the truck. I carefully unraveled my headphones, which resembled a ball of yarn, and put the earbuds in. I put on music in hopes of distracting me from the thunder of hooves I could hear behind me. The rain was still pounding down, but the raindrops on the window shimmered like diamonds, glinting from nonexistent light coming from above. I diverted my attention to the music playing from the car, I’m not sure how I heard it, but I pulled my earbuds out. My favorite band, Fall Out Boy, was playing on the radio, so I sung along. I took it as a sign, a song from over ten years ago happened to play when I was in the car, so I thought everything would work out, it would be okay.

We had been driving for about an hour when we finally pulled up into a small farm, with huge vibrant red barns flanking each side of the driveway. Eager to get this started, I jumped out from the truck, the thick clay swallowing my feet. The familiar smell of hay, rain and cows welcomed us as a long lost friend would. I calmly walked around the truck and to the trailer, where my mom was unloading Kix. I had to hold the door open. She backed Kix down the incline, his broad back soaked with rain. His usual brilliant copper shine was now reduced to a slick, dull brown, his ribs and muscles showing, and his white socks were woven with intricate lines of dirt, his blonde mane and tail flattened against his body. Some presentation. 

My mom led him around the side of trailer, his eyes drinking in his new home. His nostrils flared as he caught the cow’s scent. He arched his neck and tail, the subtleness of the Arabian bloodlines showing. A slight wind streamed his mane and tail to the side like ribbons flowing in the wind, and he pranced to show he was ready to challenge. His hooves left deep craters in the soft ground, my footprints slowly making their way over them.  My eyes caught Rusty, standing alone. He was a golden color, but the rain made the wet spots seem a deep cherry red. 

My mom released Kix into his new pasture, and he examined the food left there by Rusty. Rusty had figured out another horse was in his territory, so he sulked over, unwilling to let his reign end. Kix tried avoiding the strange horse as best as he could, but they ended up kicking at each other, hooves, bits of mud, and grass flying in all directions. Running after each other, the horses fought like little kids.  I went inside the barn where Kix’s stall would be, ready to get out of the wet conditions. I set down Kix’s blankets and was shown his new stall. It was to the right of Rusty’s, it was very spacious, and Kix had never had his own stall where we used to board him, so in a sense, this was like a palace to him.

At last, when the horses had calmed down and were eating with their heads and heels down, I knew I had to say my goodbyes.

“Bye, Kix. I love you,” I whispered, reaching out my hand to pet him one last time. The fence was electric, and I didn’t want to be zapped so I kept my distance, barely registering how cold his coat was, the slick surface of wet hair.

The raindrops hit my glasses, and they streaked like tears that would soon come, blurring my vision. I didn’t want to go back to the truck, but it had started to rain harder now, like needles pushing into my heart, little stings of pain. I took one last picture of Kix, not going too much into my goodbye because I knew I could visit him whenever we happened to be out this way. As the truck drove away, the river I had been holding back streamed freely down my face, a mix of happiness and sorrow. I studied the last picture I took, the last memory I have of Kix burning into my mind, remembering the way his silhouette carved up the dull landscape, they way his blaze and socks were now visible because the rain washed the dirt away, the way his coat felt.

As it had turned out, my thought about something bad happening came true. A month after receiving monthly updates about how Kix was in his new home, his Head Shaking came back, with a new vengeance. We were told he was violently bucking and tossing head in the pasture, becoming a dangerous threat to any human or even Rusty. The decision was made that he was to be put down immediately before he hurt himself or anyone else. We got a call on a Monday night that he could not be helped and the best thing was to let him go. The news hit me like a train, crushing every hope I had. The worst part was when I realized I will never see Kix again, that the supposedly happy day a month ago was the last time I was to see him, I never really got to say my goodbyes like I would’ve if I had known this was how fate would be played out.

I realized you should always treat every time you see someone like the last. You never truly know if something unexpected will come up between the next time you will see them, for something drastic could happen, and you might never be able to say everything you wanted them to know before it’s too late.

I pulled up the last picture I ever took, and a single tear rolled down my cheek as I finally said my goodbyes.
“Goodbye, Kix,” I seemed to whisper to the picture, as if he could hear me, and I let him go as if I were flashed back in time to the last day.