I was sent a text this afternoon by the trainer/manager of the barn I boarded and worked at in Augusta.

The 28 year old champion of the barn - the lesson giver, jump teacher, hunt master - was euthanized this morning.  During some part of the night, he broke his leg.

I didn't have a super special attachment to this old fellow.  He never taught me to ride and we never had any special bonding moments.  I'd only ever ridden him once, for a fraction of  a lesson.  He was so good at his job, so understanding of how to pack a kid around a course (even though I was a grown up by that time), that I was able to tie off the reins and take him over a line of jumps, practicing on my form.

We took him to a few IHSA competitions and he quickly got a reputation for the flat courses.  He would change gait and direction before the rider had a chance to ask, just by hearing the announcer.

Bugle Boy was a once in a lifetime horse.

RIP.

After hearing about this, the husband and I had a talk.  What if something happened to Archie?  What if I went out to the barn and his leg was dangling?  He was colicing?  We didn't get in to specifics - if it's X, then we do Y - but I made sure that he understood what would be expected of him.  Where I kept the injectable Banamine, the Bute, and that, if anything ever warranted it, getting that medication to me was of the utmost importance because I wouldn't be leaving my horse's side until the vet came.