PART THREE AND FINIS

Trigger was grounded for several weeks to heal which was the best thing to happen to us. There was no riding during that time and we developed a trust relationship. The vet had guesstimated his age as mid 20's. Ponies can live into their 30's but that is with good care and he had not received that most of his life. Juan filled me in a bit on Trigger's life as much as he could learn from the bad cop.

Trigger had been a circus pony till he was shoved onto a protruding nail by a larger horse causing the eye to be removed. Esthetically, he could no longer entertain children, he only frightened them. He went thru many owners who all passed along that story till he was bought by the bad cop. I don't know why the cop bought him for he just put the pony along with the other horses on that island to be ignored.

Trigger healed and responded well to food and gentleness. Often I would sit in the back yard with Trigger's head in my lap, the empty socket staring blindly at me as I stroked his face. I never saw an imperfection. By the time he was ready to ride, we were very comfortable with each other. He taught me to ride and he listened to all my preteen anxieties with incredible patience. He was perfect.


The next two years were wonderful. I rode almost every day with either my boyfriend Danny or my cousin Beverly who both had ponies. Often we would ride along the beach splashing in the ocean, then to rest among the tall pines that sang in the wind while we dreamed big dreams. It was a time in my life when I had it all.

Dark clouds appeared however as my Mother's asthma got steadily worse and we knew we were facing yet another move back up north. At first I reasoned that we would just take Trigger with us but that was firmly ruled out. He had to stay. No amount of begging would change that part of the plan. No phantom fevers made a difference. Leaving him devastated me more than leaving my boyfriend Danny.

Heartbroken, I gave him to a friend against my better judgment. Trigger and I had a painful parting. I swore there were tears rolling down his cheek from his good eye. I know they were streaming down mine.

Two months after our move, my friend wrote me to say Trigger had died. I could not bear the pain. I felt terrible loss and guilt. I never found out why or how he died and perhaps that is best. I would never have forgiven myself if he died because of something she did or did not do for then the blame was on me for entrusting him to her. I prayed fiercely that he did not suffer. All I knew was that my best friend was gone.

It was only much later that I was able to just be grateful that he had been such a big part of my life. He taught me the meaning of spirit, kindness and patience. I can only hope those two years with me were as good for him as they were for me.