One minute he was walking the fenceline waiting to come in and the next he's standing in the middle of his paddock on three legs. The fourth leg looking nothing like the source of power it once possessed only moments earlier. He didn't move from that spot.
I was called at home and told he broke a leg and that both our vets were called and someone would be there soon. Please come out as quick as I could.
I don't know why but my instinct had me call my sister to drive me. I was hysterical and babbling on the phone. She dropped everything to get me. I was sobbing for the entire 15 minute ride. I knew what was about to transpire.
Jag was always very special to me. Right from the moment I saw him at the track, I told my friend, "That is the most beautiful horse I've EVER seen!" and started to take photos...
One thing leads to another and he's retired from racing and taking on a new life as my horse. And what a time we had.
But last night, as I stood by him waiting for the vet to arrive, I was thinking of just how majestic he looked gazing off towards the barn. Even injured, he carried himself with such pride and dignity. I'll never forget that nor will I forget how calm he was munching on the peppermints I offered. His favorites - the ones that are soft in the middle. He showed no signs of stress, no anxiety, not a drop of sweat. Just pure dignity.
They're so fragile. They're so strong...
I'll miss you big man