25/10/2026
Losing a horse… it’s something none of us ever want to think about, but something every horse owner knows, deep down, we may one day have to face. And sometimes, those decisions are taken completely out of our hands. 💔
I bought Pumpkin when Meg was starting to slow down a little. She was an ex-racehorse who had done a bit of schooling and dressage, and bringing her into my life was a massive change.
We didn’t exactly click straightaway. She struggled to settle in a two-horse herd, particularly in such a quiet location at the time. And to say she was hot would be a bit of an understatement! 😂
Looking back, ignorance really was bliss in my case. I didn’t have much choice but to get on with it. There was nobody else to hack out with, and I didn’t have transport other than a trailer I could barely manoeuvre without breaking into a sweat! 🤣
Eventually, I got a wagon, and things started to fall into place.
We did EVERYTHING. Lessons, clinics, beach rides, event camps, dressage, and plenty of hacking just for fun. She made me feel like I was flying when we jumped, and I felt such a huge sense of achievement because she hadn’t done much jumping before I bought her.
I used to feel a million dollars riding that horse. She absolutely loved showing off, had the sweetest personality, and gave me some of the most incredible memories.
Then came the day that changed everything.
We went to a pleasure ride, and Pumpkin started behaving strangely. She began running backwards, reared, and fell over with me underneath her.
Even now, I struggle to put into words just how horrific that experience was. I genuinely don’t know how I didn’t break my leg. I can only think she must have moved enough for me to get my leg out from underneath her. I truly believe she somehow managed to move enough to help me.
Just minutes later, she was gone.
Seven years old. So much life left to live. Taken from me so suddenly that there was no time to prepare, no time to process what was happening, and no chance to say goodbye in the way you always imagine you will.
It’s fair to say I’ve carried quite a bit of trauma from that day. I lost more than a horse. I lost a piece of my heart, too.
And perhaps that’s why, fast-forward to today, I’m finding things with Meg particularly difficult.
Meg was my first horse. She’s been retired for several years now, with the odd spell of hacking when she’s felt up to it. But lately, she’s starting to struggle, and I’m finding myself worrying more and more.
Her laminitis, which has come and gone with the seasons, seems to be hanging around for longer. Her breathing is more laboured at times, and she struggles during the summer months. Although there has been some improvement recently, she’s still not where I’d like her to be.
And the poor girl absolutely HATES having restricted feed and hay. Anyone with a good-doer or a metabolic horse will understand just how difficult it is trying to balance their quality of life with keeping them healthy. 💔
It’s got me thinking about something I don’t think any of us ever really feel ready to think about…
When is the right time to say goodbye?
With Pumpkin, that decision was taken completely out of my hands. There was no preparation, no opportunity to weigh things up, and no chance to make that decision myself.
With Meg, it feels like a different kind of hard.
You watch them closely. You look for the good days. You celebrate every little improvement. You hope that what you’re doing is helping, and you keep searching for ways to make things better.
But alongside that, there’s the constant question of whether you’re doing enough, whether you’re asking too much of them, and whether the time will come when loving them means making the hardest decision of all.
I’m not there right now, and I’m keeping a very close eye on her. I want to give her every opportunity to be comfortable and enjoy her life, but I also know how important it is to be honest with yourself when things change.
I think losing Pumpkin so suddenly has made this even harder for me. I know what it feels like to have no choice, and perhaps I’m frightened of being faced with another loss, even though I know that’s part of loving animals so deeply.
I’m sure there are lots of you going through something similar with your own horses. Those difficult conversations with yourself, the constant monitoring, the hope, the worry, and the guilt that can creep in no matter what you do.
So, if that’s you, I just wanted to remind you that you’re not alone.
There isn’t always a clear line between a good day and a bad day, or a straightforward answer to the question of when enough is enough. All we can do is keep learning, keep watching, seek the right advice, and make the best decisions we can for the horses who have given us so much.
They trust us with their whole lives. And sometimes, the hardest part of loving them is knowing that we have to put their needs ahead of our own hearts. ❤️🐴
Give your horses an extra cuddle from me tonight. ❤️
