WE LOST A HERO.

Tarzan died on Friday. And the world – at least our world – lost a hero. He’d taken ill last Tuesday evening & we treated him. It seemed to work. But on Wednesday morning, it was evident that his problem wasn’t solved & it was beyond us. Time for Dr. Rollins. Over a three-day period, Doc was here every day & tried nearly every trick in the book. Tarzan – “T” – wasn’t responding. By midday Friday, I had a feeling, a bad, bad feeling. Because Dr. Rollins had to go out of town, Dr. Gryl came out. And she found that T’s colon no longer worked. The reason was & is a mystery, but when we got Dr. Rollins on the phone, he said, “Jim, with a condition like Tarzan has, even with the most expensive surgery & lengthy follow-up, his chances are one in a hundred – at best.” Twenty minutes later, Tarzan was gone. Gone, because it was the right thing to do for him. We’d always given T the best that we could provide – always. And this time it was no different. And nobody deserved the best care & the most love any more than Tarzan. If you’ll recall, he was blind in his left eye - the obvious result of some two-legged’s action. Why do we know that? Because, for the first four or five years that Tarzan was with us, none of us could get within thirty feet of him. He began by living in the field with the others & he was almost feral. It was sad but, left alone, he seemed happy. He had a couple of fairly major physical challenges – he foundered, once, & had a horrible eye infection another time in his blind, left eye. And each time, we brought him up into the barn to stay in one of the in-‘n-outs. As a result those episodes, he began to relax a little around us. It was a start. And, because that eye would need nearly-daily care for the rest of his life, we decided that he should live by himself, in the real big pen he finally called home for the last several years. And over those past few years, the old Tarzan – the nearly feral Tarzan – began to recede. And a ‘new’ T began to emerge. One that wasn’t absolutely terrified of two-leggeds. To be sure, his trust level was way down the scale, but it had finally come off rock-bottom. If he got to know someone, he’d let that person approach him – sometimes. But it was always on his terms. If you went in to see him with an objective in mind, forget it. But, if you went in with nothing planned other than to hang out with him & scratch him or brush him or give him treats & the attendant love, you stood a pretty good chance. I went to hang with T every morning & every evening of my life the past few years. It was ‘our’ time. I loved those moments & I know he did, too. In the evenings, we’d often just stand there, my arms around his neck, both of us telling each other about our respective day. And, every evening, I told him that he was my hero. And that I loved him with all my heart. And I could feel the love coming from him in an unmistakable wave of energy. Tarzan was the rock of Tierra Madre. He’d been here since before the beginning. He was the poster child for horses that had been abused & neglected & abandoned & injured. There’s never been a more honest horse. One that tried so hard, despite the injustices & mistreatment foisted upon him. He was stoic. He never complained. He returned the love we gave to him in equal measure – to the very best of his ability. And he knew, too, that his latest & last challenge was the natural way of the universe & not the result of any two-legged’s thoughtlessness or carelessness. During that final walk down the lane, he was comfortable & happy & trusting. He eagerly ate a few treats. And when the moment came, the last words he heard were, “I love you, T. I love you with all my heart.” And our hero was gone. There will never be another Tarzan.