The last of the travelling horses - vale for Jo Cool (Aug 1995 - Feb 2024)

I read a book recently, called The book of Ho’oponopono, about a Hawaiian meditation practise, which teaches a simple mantra which goes like this: 
I’m sorry
Forgive me
Thank you 
I love you


I started reciting this to our old horse Jo Cool, as I approached the end of ‘the long goodbye’ to him, which is something familiar to every animal lover I am sure. I found the mantra fit perfectly for what I wanted to say to old Jo, as I tended to him each day, feeding him his breakfast hay, then later on his ‘second breakfast’ bucket feed, when I gave him a daily grooming with his ‘special soft brush’, the one his liked, especially on his neck, where he loved to be massaged, and over his eyes and along his body once he began to relax. When I cleaned the manure from his paddock, when I returned with his dinner hay and his dinner bucket. When I looked out of the glass sliding doors of my bedroom at daybreak and could see his soft buckskin appaloosa coat glowing in the dawn light at the fence line of the paddock he lived in when he could no longer live safely with the herd, as his eyesight got too poor for him to judge their intentions or distance. He now lived with a new friend, Tex, my daughter’s gelding who is equally sensitive and alert to the environment he is in.  Jo and Tex would mutually groom each other over the fence, I would watch them delicately initiate these grooming sessions, tentatively gaining each other’s consent and willingness to proceed. It was lovely to see Jo connect with Tex, even though he already had a companion in Buddy the mini pony.  Jo was always a sensitive horse, reactive to any sudden movements or unexpected touch. The horse that we rarely saw laying down asleep.  The one who ran the herd like a stallion in partnership with the lead mare, until he was too poor sighted to lead them and younger, more fitting geldings took that role, and for the first time we saw marks on his body when he started losing the competition for position. 
He was the horse I could trust with the most novice person, as he would try so hard to do whatever he thought they were asking…and would move lightly out of their way when they fumbled or got in his way. The horse Justin and I rode to our highest level of personal achievement so far, and who taught me a new level of awareness, of patience, of the value of waiting, waiting, waiting for the digestion of thoughts, the return of relaxation and understanding after the discomfort of learning a new pattern, a new level of human request. ‘Just when you think you’ve waited long enough’ Jo taught me…’wait another 30 seconds…you won’t regret it’. 


He was last of our ‘travelling horses’, the ones who lived with us during the 4 year chapter of living life on the road in a 30’ gooseneck trailer, with 4 horses and our 2 youngest children, moving from state to state teaching horsemanship clinics before buying the property we now live on. All 4 of those ‘travelling horses’ are buried here now, that chapter is finally closed with the burial yesterday evening of old Jo Cool.  He joins his favourite mare Libby, gelding mates Cooper and Stormy.  This morning is the first morning without him in 23 years.  
No matter how or when you make this decision, it is still a hard call to make, as any animal lover knows. Whether ‘early’, whilst your beloved animal is still healthy, happy and not suffering and struggling to stay alive, or whether in a moment when it is the only call to make, because your beloved animal is mortally wounded, or in crisis when it’s body is clearly suffering acutely. I have experienced all of these outcomes, many times, over a long life with horses. 9 times I have said goodbye, and it does not get easier in my experience.  There is no way to tell someone when it is the right time to make the decision. It’s always a very hard decision to make.  
What I appreciate so much, is the reassurance from my vet that making this call whilst my beloved horse is still relatively healthy, and not suffering, is a good one. Even though he could live for many more years if left to his own ‘end’. It relieved me of the guilt of calling it ‘too soon’, I prefer to not wait until the regret of it being ‘too late’. I have been there before too.  
I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the service of veterinarians in this process. In my experience, they are full of empathy, practical but considerate. I don’t know how they do it. It must be hard. 

Goodbye Jo Cool. I have loved you since I first met you at a clinic when you were 3 years old. I am so grateful we got to spend 23 years with you, after we bought you as a 5 year old, when you were unexpectedly available for sale. What a life we have had together, Justin and I have many wonderful memories of the places we went, the events we did and the shared stories of our time with you. 

Thank you - we love you                      

​Peace to animal lovers all.