I submitted my article with all sorts of pleas to the editor to let me know if it ran long, and that I would be happy to edit it. She wrote back saying that she loved it as is, and forwarded it to the stallion's owner, who's on the Board of the breeder's organization which publishes the magazine she edits. He loves it too.
Much praise. High spirits.
A few hours later I got an email letting me know that the stallion I've written about is probably dying. He's been ill with a mild colic, some sort of lingering reaction to coming out of tranquilizers early last week after having his teeth floated. Apparently he just refuses to bounce back and is rapidly losing weight. Twenty-eight years is a good run, I suppose. But winter just sucks for these older guys. Although, he's still drinking sufficient water, so maybe that's something positive.
I really would not like a retrospective of one horse's unique contribution to four different breeding farms, a collection of stories and pictures, including his carrying a bride into her wedding, to turn into a eulogy.
Low spirits tonight.