Goodbye To Patti, A Look At The Loss Of Beloved Horse And Friend

Five years have elapsed since the death of my first horse, Patti.  I have intellectually accepted this fact but still find myself emotionally unsettled and aware of my reluctance to discuss it, for discussion represents a finality and public statement that she is gone.  I ask you to bear with me as I shift between the expression of feeling and an analysis of my experience.

My lovely old mare was quiet, kind, responsive, affectionate and giving of herself, not only to me, but to the many physically handicapped children who rode her in complete safety and joy.  My lovely old mare accepted my love without question or censure.  I was preparing myself for the fact that she was, in reality, getting on in years. 17 to be exact, and that she would die eventually.  I thought, "I will not let her die.  She will have a foal, and the legacy of her wonderful disposition and purpose will be passed on to her
baby."  Patti "became in foal", and the exhilaration I felt, along with those who knew her, was a tribute to our great love for her.

Through the winter months we waited and watched her grow round and full, and saw her baby kicking within her, and felt life throughout her.  Death was an unreality, a never-thought-of event.  Life was good.  Patti was lovely, fat and sassy.  The words, "We lost Patti last night" still ring in my head as the cruelest words ever spoken to me.  No Patti, no foal, nothing remained.  We were cheated.

Cultural and Social Responses

When death is expected and close by, people have the opportunity to prepare in varying degrees for the event.  When the loss is a human being, we are conditioned to "understand" and empathize with the bereaved in social and work contexts.  Mourning behaviors can be expressed within cultural frameworks.  Volumes have been written on the subject of death.  Loss is very subjective and personal in the ways in which we experience it.

Existing social norms permit life disruption as a result of the loss of a
significant other, but not a pet.  The value of a pet's worth as opposed to a fellow human being is questioned in the ways in which we may describe our relationship with the animal as "only a dog" or "just a cat", in contrast to the premium placed upon aspouse, child, sibling, parent or friend.  The importance of the animal-human bond is played out as one which is secondary and, in fact, a substitution for the more "appropriate" and normal inter-human relationship.

I experienced this phenomenon from the outset of my intense grief at Patti's loss.  Initially, my employer was sympathetic and supportive of my absence from work, but later inquired as to how I planned to account for the time - vacation, personal leave or a "sick" day.  How could this be resolved?  I was not sick, did not attend to personal business, and it certainly was no vacation!  Had I been confronted by the death of my child, there would have been an established category to protect my right to mourn.  In attempting to enlighten her to the fact that death is death, I became very aware of the gap in our value systems, and in society's as a whole.

Well-meaning people, eager to comfort me, tried to minimize my loss and advised me to replace her as soon as possible.  The energy I expended in the desperate search for Patti's replacement was my avoidance of grief.

Would these same people encourage me to  immediately become involved in a new relationship in the event of my husband's death?  I would think not.  A significant period of mourning, following the death of a person, is supported and encouraged by those with whom we regularly interact, yet the grief associated with the loss of a pet generally does not receive the same validation of feelings.  I realized there is a need to educate people that loss is just that.  Reactions to it cannot be categorized into what is allowed and "appropriate" and what is abnormal and "inappropriate".

After several months of looking for a new horse, I purchased a young gelding with a total lack of feeling for him.  I hoped that a relationship would grow; however, I could not be fair to him as I constantly compared him to Patti, and was frustrated by the fact that they were not the same.  She was unique to herself.  I sold him to a friend shortly thereafter.

Last year, while visiting a local stable, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, a small, brown horse cantering with a young girl on her back.  The child was laughing out loud, enjoying her ride and the glorious summer afternoon. 

Fascinated, I began to watch them with intense interest.  The mare captured my heart.  I had long since stopped looking for Patti.  This horse was the first I had seen that I loved on the spot.  I bought her!

I now share my life with her.  She, too, is an older horse with a loving, quiet disposition.  She, too, helps handicapped children to ride.  In fact, Patti and Sweet and Low are very similar in their natures, but when I compare them I find myself doing so based upon my affection for both these horses.  I derive pleasure from doing so rather than being angry at my new horse for not being Patti.

I have learned a great deal about myself as the result of Patti's death.  I feel a strong need to share this knowledge with others, which, in a way, gives her death some purpose.  My ability to love and take risks has grown and I have gained much insight into the range of feelings that we can experience at the loss of a pet.  I find that for myself, and hence for others, there does not have to be a distinction in the quality of emotions felt upon the death of a beloved pet or human. 

A need exists for education so that either loss will be viewed with equal support and empathy to enable the bereaved to work through the grieving process without censure.

We cannot replace a beloved pet or friend.  The danger that exists when we attempt to do so is the potential loss of their individuality and the unique joy that we can experience with them.

By: Jo O'Brien
(Appeared in the "Chronicle Of The Horse",4/15/83; reprinted by permission)