The Whistle and Whinny

I’m going to tell you a story now my lovely Poppy.

I know you know most of the story, after all it is about you. I really just need to now tell you the parts of the story that you couldn’t know.

You can’t imagine how excited I was when you were my brother’s small child and you became obsessed with horses just as I had been at that age. Your poor dad knew what was in store, we laughed about that.

I still have the image in my mind of you as a cutie-pie little girl galloping around your back yard pretending to be National Velvet, jumping bushes, talking to your imaginary horse. I can actually feel my heart skip a beat when I think of that.

I hope you remember those days of spending so much time with me at my farm as clearly and fondly as I do, such special times spent with each other looking after the horses and riding whenever we could. You became such a fabulous little rider on my old pony Max, and I had to tell your dad that it was time you got your own horse. Thanks to me he eventually relented and agreed to give me the go ahead to look for a horse for you.

Then you all turned up at the farm for the usual weekend stay. I know you’ll remember that day. It was a hot summer’s day, the flies were all over us, trying to grab every bit of moisture they could from our sweaty clothes and eyes and mouths. The cicadas, so noisy that day, were competing with the cockatoos to be the most ear-splitting. That smell of an Australian bush summer was in the air, a mixture of eucalyptus, smoke, sheep and dry dust.

You saw a new horse standing in the yard, that beautiful palomino pony, dappled gold with a flowing white mane and tail. You saw her there with the red bow tied around her neck and you looked wide-eyed at your parents and then at me, really excited to see a new horse to fuss over.

You stood there waving the flies away with one hand and shielding your eyes from the hot sun with the other.

“Oh wow, what a beautiful horse, what’s his name? Whose is it? Can I go and pat him?”

I took your hand and walked with you over to the fence, your parents followed behind us, holding hands, giggling like school kids and trying not to let on.

“First of all, he’s a she called Molly and that red bow around her neck is to say she’s a gift”, I said as we stood at the fence admiring her.

“Did someone give her to you as a present?” you asked me innocently.

With a wink at your parents I said, “No, she’s a gift from your mum and dad to you. She is your very own pony, go and say hello”.

Then you went over to talk to Molly, your little hands wiping the tears of joy from your cheeks, your sweet voice quavering with disbelief and love as you quietly talked to your new pony.

I know you’d remember the fun we had on our weekends together. I really looked forward to the school holidays when you’d spend half of them with me and Molly on the farm.

As you grew older I know you had school friends to spend time with and yes, your mum and dad did have things they wanted to do with you as well, all perfectly understandable reasons for you wanting some time at home, as little as it was. It just made me look forward more to our time together, my sweet little Poppy.

As the years flew by you did amazing things with Molly. I lost count of the ribbons and trophies you won on her. What a pair you made, you knew each other so well and she was truly a remarkable pony.

The bond between you two was so plain to see. I always knew you were coming up the driveway, I’d hear your whistle then hear Molly’s answering whinny tumbling through the air on a cloud of love from wherever she was, that great love you two had for each other.

Your dad is such a legend, when you were old enough he bought you a car and you started driving yourself down on Fridays after school.

You’d wind down your window and whistle as soon as your car turned into the driveway, Molly would hear it and reply from wherever she was with that particularly loud whinny that she reserved for you. Not even when I was walking out from the feed shed carrying her bucket of feed did she grace me with such an expressive whinny that loud, I’d just get a lovely soft, dignified nicker.

Next thing you’re studying hard for your Higher School Certificate but you still made sure to come down to take care of your horse, even if it meant just sitting in the paddock reading and studying while she grazed around you, never moving far from where you sat. I always marvelled at that deep affinity and love for each other that you shared. Remember how you’d be out there for hours, sitting cross legged with your EarPods in while you listened to podcasts and scribbled away in your books? If you decided to lay down flat on your back and just listen with your hands behind your head, looking wistfully at the clouds, that pony would walk over to sniff you all over to make sure you were okay and stand over you to guard you as horses in a herd do. What a sweet mare.

Then bang, you’d finished your HSC, another bridge crossed. You still managed to come down to the farm for two days at a time whenever you could. I always knew you were about to walk in the door when I heard that whistle and Molly’s answering whinny.

I don’t know how, but you managed to come down most weekends when you were at university and working part-time, even if only for the day. Was it exhausting for you? I’d often worry about that, about the long drive down after a week of study and work. You’d whistle, Molly would answer, you’d come through the back door, the screen door slamming behind you, drop your bag in your bedroom, get changed and, if I was lucky, I’d get a quick hug before you ran out to spend time with your pony.

The memory of evenings with you will forever be in my heart, eating all those dinners together, cleaning up afterwards, watching telly or playing board games, often laughing so much we’d be doubled over unable to breathe.

Sometimes we’d sit outside on my porch with a cuppa to watch the sun set over the hill behind the gate, remember the gate that led to our favourite bush trail? We used to love riding that trail together.

Time flew by, Molly grew older and slower. You’d ride one of my horses instead of Molly but you still spent most of your time looking after your first love, taking her for long walks to keep her stiff joints moving, grooming her thoroughly, giving her warm water washes and making her glow.

I was dreading the day when she’d eventually become unable to move properly and we’d have to get the vet out to send her over the rainbow bridge. I knew you’d be here in a flash to be with her when she drew her last breath, her beautiful head in your loving arms while you stroked her and spoke to that dear, sweet old pony in the special way you had of communicating with her.

Nobody could have anticipated the cruel twist that fate had in store for us all.

The word still makes me weak in the knees to hear - glioblastoma. Why you Poppy? Why you and not me? You were just too young to have to go through all that trauma - brain tumour surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, all with me being too far away to go through it with you and your mum and dad. Thank God for Skype for allowing me to see you and talk to you when you were up to it. I can still see your poor swollen face and bruised eyes looking at me on the screen after your operation, your head swathed in bandages. Then the sight of you trying to be positive and cheerful while you were going through chemo would bring me to tears every time we Skyped. We laughed as you showed me the tattoos on your head in preparation for your radiotherapy, you’d always threatened your parents that you’d get a tattoo.

You were such a sweet, loving girl to make sure your parents still brought you down to spend a night with me every few weeks in between treatments so you could spend time with me and Molly. What an awful time for all of us, we tried to just be there for you. Sometimes we’d all just sit on my porch and watch the sunset, surrounding you with love. We knew that if love could overcome anything, you were going to live a long, full life.

But fate begged to differ. The angels wanted you back, they were fighting to have you as hard as you were fighting to stay with us. The tumour returned with a vengeance. You suffered a massive seizure and were rushed to hospital, your dad had to ring and tell me the news. Surely our love would get you through this as well?

That same day I’d gone out to bring the horses in for the night and Molly was laying down in the afternoon sun and couldn’t get back up. There’s just nothing worse than a horse being down and unable to get themselves back on their feet, you’d know that. It breaks my heart to see it. The vet and I eventually managed to get her up and to her stable. He gave her painkillers for her joint pain and then gave me the news I was dreading, it was time to let her go and be free of pain. I arranged for him to come back on Saturday to give you time to recover and hopefully be able to get down here to be with Molly when she left us to run free from earthly pain.

I know you would have hated hearing that the vet had been called. It was just as heartbreaking telling your dad as I’d always known it would be. I hated knowing he’d have to tell you that horrible news, my hand was shaking as I tapped on your dad’s name. We sobbed on the phone to each other, it was unbearable for me to know the pain and sorrow it would cause you. It killed me not being able to hold you while our hearts shattered, to not be able to somehow take your pain away. It’s so hard to lose a horse, somehow harder than a dog or cat, I wonder to myself if it’s because such huge animals take up even more space in your heart and soul. Your parents still hoped you’d have recovered enough to make the trip down.

So you know all that Poppy. Maybe not the rest of the story.

On that Friday my whole body - my stomach, my heart, my head - was in knots all day, hoping to see you but saddened by the thought of why you were having to come when you were so unwell yourself.

Dear old Molly was dozing most of the day, standing up in the sun in her yard or in the cool of her stable, she seemed very peaceful. Anyone would’ve thought there was nothing wrong with her, all thanks to the heavy duty painkillers the vet had left for me to dose her up with.

I was in the kitchen trying to take my mind off the next day’s plans by preparing the veggies for our dinner.

Then I heard it, your whistle, that whistle of yours to let your mate know you were here. Molly heard it too, I heard her lovely, loud answering whinny carried to me through the kitchen window on the breeze. It always made me smile. I was so relieved that you had felt well enough to come.

I really wasn’t expecting you to come inside to see me first like you normally would, I knew your parents would be helping you head straight to the stables to see Molly. I thought I’d just finish what I was doing before I came out to join you all. I was so very happy to know that you’d recovered enough to be able to spend your pony’s last moments with her.

Half an hour later I walked out onto the porch where we’d often sit to watch the sun setting, I caught sight of movement just past the gate. I couldn’t see properly, the sun was almost at the tree-line at the top of the hill and shining so brightly, directly in my face. I put my hand up to my forehead to shield my eyes and saw the back of you and Molly on the other side of the gate, shimmering in the bright sunlight. The setting sun seemed to give both of you a brilliant luminosity, making your hair and Molly’s coat radiate a golden ghostly shimmer.

A final walk, I thought to myself “what a lovely sunset for you both!”, it was almost as if it was ordered specially for that occasion.

Maybe your mum and dad had just dropped you off and gone back to the shops to get some wine? I thought it was strange that I hadn’t heard the car heading off, dismissing that thought and thinking, “A wine sure will go down well tonight”.

I wanted to make up a special feed and some molasses water for Molly’s last night. I carried the buckets of feed and water to Molly’s stable and stepped into the cool darkness of the interior. It took a minute to register, something wasn’t right, my brain couldn’t process what my eyes were seeing, I stood there dumbfounded …….. your darling Molly was lying curled up on the soft bed of wood shavings, looking so peaceful, as if she was sleeping. I knew straight away that the dear old pony, the love of your life, was not breathing. Then I just couldn’t see clearly, my eyes were flooding with tears, I started crying in deep racking sobs, I could feel my heart crack open as I walked over and knelt next to where her muzzle was resting on her curled up legs. Her eyes were closed, her body still warm enough to know that she hadn’t been gone very long at all. Feeling so sad that she couldn’t wait for you, I used my fingers to brush the shavings out of her tail and mane, hugging her until my sobs gradually subsided. I tried to ignore the niggling thought that persistently prodded me in the back of my brain.

I told myself “I’ll think about that later, I don’t know what that was I saw, I can’t get my head around it right now”.

My body was so weighed down with sadness that I found it hard to stand up and make my way back to the house. There it was again, that thought that was no longer gently prodding but was now punching me in the brain, trying to get my attention.

What was happening? My head was spinning. I couldn’t possibly have heard you arrive and I could not have seen you and Molly on the other side of the gate ………

But I had heard it, I had heard your whistle, and I had heard Molly’s whinny answering you.

I had seen you both going off on a walk, shining in the dazzling golden sunset.

I couldn’t make sense of what was happening, nothing was making sense.

Then my phone rang, it showed your mum’s number, but there was just silence on the other end of the phone. I heard your dad’s voice telling her to give the phone to him, your mum had started to sob uncontrollably in the background. They were still at the hospital with you, not here, none of you were here. He told me what had happened, trying to stay strong even though his heart was smashed to pieces. Your condition had suddenly deteriorated and you’d fallen into a coma after another seizure and your poor frail body just couldn’t do it any more. So what had I seen in the sun’s blinding glare?

He told me they thought that you’d won, that you were going to come out of it okay. To their joy and relief you had woken from the coma, smiled lovingly at your parents, and slowly raised your hand to shield your eyes from a glaring sunset unseen by anyone else.

Then you’d said, “Wow, it’s so bright, beautiful, so warm. I love you but I have to go see Molly now, she’s calling me”. Your arm then slid back to the bed. He said your eyes slowly closed and you quietly slipped away, smiling peacefully in an eternal sleep.

A sharp intake of breath that I couldn’t exhale.

You see, I know the sun was bright, I saw it, saw it shining off you and Molly.

What he told me meant I couldn’t possibly have heard you and Molly loving each other with the whistle and whinny carried through the late afternoon air to me.

But I knew I had, I knew right there and then that I had seen you taking Molly for a final walk. It wasn’t in body but in spirit, shining golden ghosts going on a final walk to the rainbow bridge. Darling Poppy and Molly, now together forever.