She was born "Mon Melika."  Ok, I didn't name her.  She's Arabian and her name, in Arabic, means "My Queen."  "My Princess" is more like it!  She's my sweet, funny, smart, beautiful, white mare, with a swirl on her forehead, and a pink snip on her nose.  I've been full of heartache this past week and a half with news that my 31 year old horse I've had for most of her life (and nearly half of mine) is not doing well.  It started with her not eating her feed, and I know no creature on earth who loves her food more than Melika. By the time I arrived in Rockmart to see her this past weekend, she had lost quite a bit of weight and nickered for her food, as usual, but would drop almost all of her feed after making a weak attempt at chewing it.   Thankfully, she's drinking plenty of water.  But with frequent vet visits and calls over the past 10 days, the inevitable conversation finally had to take place.  I had mine with my vet last night.  I don't want my horse to suffer any more than is necessary to make sure she has the opportunity to get better.  But, at her age, I don't want to put her in a trailor and take her to Athens or Auburn to the large animal vets to have her in a strange environment where they'd poke and prod her, and where I wouldn't be able to be with her.  Right now, we're keeping her as comfortable as possible and are treating her with the meds that will help, if anything can help at all.  I am truly thankful to have good friends who I've known for many years, Kriston and Dennis, watching over Melika and caring for her every day.  I'm also thankful to have a vet who knew what words to say to me last night during my struggle with when to release my girl from her discomfort -- I believe that the opportunity we have to put our beloved pets out of their misery is a true gift that runs both ways, and I told him so.  He then shared his story with me that his mother is dying from cancer, and that his torture is that he doesn't live in the same state with her and is trying to get her the best care he can when hope is dwindling that she'll recover.  Of course he doesn't want to lose her, but he doesn't want her to suffer any more either, and he feels helpless to try to make her better.  Hearing him with his own personal struggle, and his sincere and caring frustration with not knowing what else to do for my horse, really put my issue back into perspective for me.   We decided to give her a few more days to get better.  Although it is terribly hard (I believe even harder) to be the one watching the object of your love suffer at all, we ALL go through this heartache, which is why I want to share my story with you.  As long as there is a beating heart there is hope.  If you're a prayerful person, would you say one for my vet's precious mom -- and a prayer for my little white mare?