



We who choose to surround ourselves with lives
more temporary than our own,
live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps,
we still would live no other way.
The life of a horse, often half our own,
seems endless until one day.
That day has come and gone for me,
and I am once again within a somewhat smaller circle.
~ Irving Townsend from Separate Lifetimes




That day comes, yet not without warning.
Noblesse, our oldest Haflinger mare, nearing 29 years old, kept convincing me this past summer she was living her best life and was not too old to keep enjoying more time on this earth. She came running when I whistled and would be the first to greet me when I came to the barn for chores.
It wasn’t all rainbows and roses for her. I would see her dozing more frequently, walking slowly due to joint pain, and showing the hallmark signs of metabolic dysfunction. I debated about calling the vet clinic to schedule her euthanasia. But then she would look at me defiantly: not yet, not yet…
This morning when I went out to the barn, she was standing with her head down, atypical for such an extroverted bossy mare who usually demands that I attend to her first. Then, she startled me by dropping down to roll and then rolled again. Not eating, reaching around to bite at her flanks. She was clearly miserable.
I knew then this was the day.
Within the hour, thanks to a responsive vet and his assistant, she was pain-free and no longer facing a cold wet winter ahead.
It is a wistful goodbye to Noblesse, given that she was born on this farm and raised her foals here. She was the first American-born gold-rated mare in AHR inspection and classification. Except for brief times away for training and always part of our Haflinger display at our regional fair, it was right and fitting that she should breathe her last on this farm.
Our circle of aging Haflingers has just become smaller.
Two are her sons.
The life of a horse seems endless, until one day.
For Noblesse, that day was today.







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Such a legacy. I’ll miss her with you. Love.
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I’m so sorry Emily. Thank you for giving her such a great life. Rest in Peace beautiful Noblesse
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So sorry. She’s beautiful. ♥
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Oh, Emily. What a beautiful post and tribute to that gorgeous girl. Thank you for giving all your Haflingers (and cats and dogs) a wonderful life, and for easing their way when it is time.
You inspire me so.
Melinda
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Oh, Emily. What a beautiful post and tribute to that magnificent creature. Thank you for giving her, and each Haflinger and cat and dog that has graced your farm, a wonderful life. And for easing their way when it is time.
You inspire me so.
Melinda
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Oh, Emily. What a beautiful post and tribute to that magnificent creature. Thank you for giving her, and each Haflinger and cat and dog that has graced your farm, a wonderful life. And for easing their way when it is time.
You inspire me so.
Melinda
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I’m in tears, all thick-throated, and I didn’t even have the pleasure of meeting Noblesse. But I have admired her pictures over the years. Emily, I’m so sorry. You’ve lost a dear friend. Love, Amrita
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I’m so sorry Emily. She was a beautiful mare. She could not have had a better life. Godspeed Noblesse.
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I’m so sorry. Sent from my iPhone
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Emily, I’m so sorry. What a beautiful girl and such a beautiful tribute to her. She bridged so many eras in your life. Your heart must be breaking.
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Well done to be so in tune with your animal family you know exactly when to help them along gracefully. It is not easy and ever so sad and the one who greets you in the morning is no longer there. Their life has been our life and we review our time on earth as well. So it goes and our hearts ache and we go on, often looking to where they might have been and then listen to their nickering from the next realm. Onward dear Emily.
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