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My Butterfly Flew Away Too Soon
 By Memery Farms   •   20th Mar 2016   •   1,263 views   •   0 comments
My Butterfly Flew Away Too Soon

In 2009 I was around thirteen years old when my trainer brought a rescue Morgan mare named Mariposa. She lived mostly isolated in a stall for seven years with minimal human contact. Mariposa was a below average size for a Morgan at about 14 hands and rightfully so, was terrified of people.

Each day after my lessons I would sneak down to her stall in a futile attempt to slowly earn this horses trust. After many months of working with this little mare, a bombshell was dropped on me.

"Some people are looking at Mariposa to buy her today", my trainer said.

I was devastated... I wanted her, I worked for it, I earned her trust, we were beginning to bond, this isn't fair I thought to myself. To my surprise my trainer ended our conversation by telling me that if she was not picked up today that I could have her. Thankfully they never did show up and my trainer kept her promise to make Mariposa mine!

I was so excited to bring her home, the corral was ready for her arrival and I was more than prepared to bring this mare into my life.

Mariposa was my pride and joy, my everything. I spent countless hours in the arena with her, watching her, loving her. She was there when I needed a companion as a teenager... to talk to, to cry to, to tell secrets... she was there for me when no one else was.

She was my friend.

A few years went by and I became lazy and complacent. I assumed Mariposa would always be there for me. I didn't clean her stall as often, I rarely rode her, and I traded our time for new friends as my teenage years ticked on and spent more and more time growing my social life. Mariposa was left with a Miniature named Grayson, and that was the extent of her social life.

Related: Top Two Horse Rescue Stories on PonyBox

By 2012 I was done with everything horse. I stopped competing and I no long rode. I stopped spending time with Mariposa and made the decision to give her away. The man who picked her up assessed her and pointed out that Mariposa had a club foot, which existed even before I owned her. Our farrier was very good at keeping the foot maintained while I owned her and the man who picked her up even said he can correct this... which didn't really click with me at the time at what he was saying.

Goodbye Mariposa

by 2015 I was a young adult and much more responsible. I caught the horse bug again and couldn't wait to get started. I was ready for Mariposa again.

I started my search for her with a few posts on local group online pages and found the guys name that I gave her to. I shot him a message online and asked if he remembered me. Several weeks went by with no response. I was eager and daydreamed of rekindling my relationship with Mariposa... the love I would give her... the love she deserved... the apologies I owed her.

I was on my drive to work weeks later when I received a message back, but it was just a sad face... I was confused.

He put her down

I went numb, I lost it, I screamed, I bawled. How could my baby be gone. What happened, Colic?

"Well you know she had a foot problem.", the man said. This made me outrageous! I was now more educated in horse anatomy and related hoof issues and my sadness grew into fury!

He mentioned that when I gave her to him that he would correct her foot. Sure, with enough time and slow methodical correcting her foot may normalize slightly. But most of the time horses with club feet just require regular maintenance for a relatively normal life. She had absolutely no other issues during the time I owned her, I was devastated.

I can't confirm what happened but I assume he tried to correct her foot and either screwed up or over-worked her and made her pull a tendon, which made her lame. I was sickened... I was devastated. My dreams crushed.

The next few months were filled with regret and blame. If I wasn't so selfish and if I didn't give her away she would still be alive. I would still have her and I would be happy. My anger towards the owner lessened over time and I directed the blame at myself. I should have loved her more, I should have taken my time when I decided to give her away and researched the new owner and their plans, I should have kept in touch.

Now I can never tell her I'm sorry for the attention she did not get. I can never tell her I'm sorry for placing my own social life ahead of hers... putting boys before her. I wanted to be with her when she took her last breath, I wanted to feel her heartbeat with mine. This breaks my heart every single time I think about it, I'm sentenced to a recurring horror of my mistake and selfishness.

Never let them go.

My Butterfly Flew Away Too Soon
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