Nard and Nut

Renard is now a small box on a shelf with 3 others: the boxes containing Ace, Bonnie, and Tashi.

He really was the sweetest cat that I have ever known.  A pure, gentle, honest soul.  He suffered for 10 years, turning him into a scared, timid thing.  We were able to give him 11 years during which he slowly turned into a loving lap cat.  We won.

These pictures really look nothing like he did at the end, and I have debated whether I should put one up from August.  Caution won; this is how I need to remember him.

A very old picture.  On the top step, Bonnie (RIP 2011) and Renard.  On the bottom, a still-growing Alex.  He now weighs more than 30 lbs and dwarfs all other cats.

A pretty, proper kitty.  He had a way of looking so dapper.

Our cats are allowed outside under strict supervision, and in the end one of his favorite things was to totter out on our back deck, in Ace's old harness and lead, and go exploring in the yard.  Another sign that he was done was when he stepped outside, looked around, and came right back in.  This is a more recent picture, only a year or two old.

So, on to the Nut.

I spent Friday night vomiting, something I only do once every few years, and Saturday I was miserable.  On Sunday, I ventured to the barn for a very easy ride, not having been up to seeing the Nut for some time.  Anne-Marie was suffering from an epic fall from Mona the weekend before, so her battered back could only handle a short, quiet ride as well.

Even though the ride was slow and short (a little over an hour), and I was absolutely miserable and nauseous during the entire thing, I think this is the proudest I've ever been of Peanut.

Becoming more and more queasy as I groomed and saddled him, by the time I mounted I was just assuring myself that he was steady enough to handle someone puking off of his back.  With each step my poor stomach swayed and sloshed, and I was too tired to do much as far as riding.  I was a passenger, not a rider... and not much of a passenger at that.  More like a lump.

And what did Peanut do?  He let me barely touch the buckle on the reins or drop them completely behind the pommel while he just quietly walked.  No matter what I asked, he did so quietly, willingly, and gently.  Often in the lead, he took care of me and just plodded along, following the leafy dent that was the trail.

At one point the other two decided to trot, and I got ready for Peanut to lunge into something faster as I didn't have it in me to tell him otherwise.  Instead, he just kept walking.  I was able to drop the reins to the buckle again and plod as we were passed and left behind.  I could tell that he wanted to go, and normally I would have had to signal him to hold back, but this time he didn't go faster until I thought, why not, and gave him a wee squeeze.  He happily fell into a canter, but only because I had asked.  I was so thrilled with my good boy.

He did get upset later when, close to home, our lead horse took off to do some jumps on the trail (with warning), and Peanut seemed concerned.  Why was that horse suddenly bolting off, jumping over the logs Peanut simply walks around, is Peanut going to die?  I was able to hold him back into a gait, and afterwards basically had him carry my lump self back to the barn.

It wasn't a glorious ride full of epic adventures, but it was a ride where I was able to appreciate the partner that I have in my horse.  Trail rides used to always include fights between us, but I think (hope) we have moved beyond that.

Yes, my pudgy pony got lots of cookies that day and I managed not to toss mine.  :)