When Loving an Aging Horse Means Facing Anticipatory Grief

When I was in college, I used to cry because I was certain my first horse, Sam, was going to die.

He was 18 years old when I sold him. I didn’t sell him because I stopped loving him. I sold him because I was afraid of losing him.

A family friend once told me, “He is going to die on you, and I don’t want to be around to see it happen because you will fall to pieces.”

That sentence planted something in me: fear of inevitable loss.

Sam had battled a hoof abscess the summer before. It wouldn’t heal. We drained it over and over. He dropped a couple hundred pounds and looked terrible. I was bracing for the end.

But then fall came. The mud dried. The abscess healed. My mother fed him squash from the garden, and when I came home from college, he had gained his weight back. He looked beautiful.

Still, I sold him the following spring.

Not because he was dying, but because I was afraid he might.

I told myself that if I didn’t see him die, I wouldn’t have to grieve. I could imagine him somewhere else, kicking up his heels, eating apples in a green pasture. I chose avoidance over heartbreak.

At the time, I was told horses rarely lived past 20. Later, I learned that Yellow Mount, a foundation Quarter Horse stallion, lived to be 42. Advances like Ivermectin dramatically extended equine life expectancy by reducing worm damage and colic, once the leading cause of death in horses.

Fear had shaped my decision, not facts.

Rowdy: The Horse Who Changed Everything

Most of my life, I owned show horses that I sold before they were ten. But Rowdy was different.

Rowdy was just two years old when his dam, Frosty’s Magic Lace, died from Lymphatic Sarcoma while ten months pregnant. I was devastated. I had already listed Rowdy for sale.

But after losing her, I couldn’t let him go. He was the last living piece of Magic.

Keeping him changed everything.

Rowdy has been remarkably healthy. No colic. No founder. Only minor abscesses. He’s strong, solid, intelligent, and deeply connected.

A few years later, he was diagnosed with Cushing’s disease (PPID in horses). The veterinarian treated it like a manageable condition, similar to high blood pressure. Medication would help regulate it.

But when I researched equine Cushing’s disease more deeply, I discovered that horses diagnosed with Cushing’s live an average of five to seven years.

That knowledge shifted something in me.

Rowdy turned 30 years old.

And anticipatory grief quietly moved into the barn.

What Is Anticipatory Grief in Horse Owners?

Anticipatory grief is the fear, sadness, and mourning that begins before loss actually occurs. It’s common in pet owners with aging animals or chronic diagnoses like Cushing’s disease in horses.

I found myself asking:

Does he look thinner?
Is he eating enough?
How many good days do we have left?

The fear wasn’t dramatic or hysterical. It was quieter, like realizing you only have two bites left of an exquisite dessert.

You savor it more. But you also dread the end.

I was projecting my fear onto him.

A spiritual advisor once told me that my greatest mistake was not something physical, it was the energy of fear I was carrying around him. Horses are sensitive. They feel what we feel.

Rowdy was telepathic enough that I could not hide a pill in an apple without him knowing.

How do you hide fear from a horse who reads your mind?

You don’t.

You transform it.

Gratitude Instead of Fear

I have had the extraordinary privilege of being present the day Rowdy was born. I watched him lope before he was 24 hours old. I’ve seen him win in the show ring.

He loved reining. He tolerated Western Pleasure only enough to look at the crowd as if to say, “Surely we can do something more interesting than this.”

He was brilliant on trail - solid, sensible, unspookable -  just like his mother.

I don’t know how I will feel when he dies. Will it be worse because I’ve had him longer than any other horse? Or easier because I’ve had so many years?

I don’t know.

But I do know this:

Fear steals from the days we still have.

Grief will come when it comes. There will be time for tears, rituals, and mourning. But today is not that day.

Today is for gratitude.

Today is for telling fear to move out of the barn.

No one is dying today.

Being Present for the Final Chapter

When the time comes, and it will, I want to be there.

I want him to feel love, not panic. Gratitude, not dread. Peace, not my anticipatory sorrow.

Because this fear? It’s about me. About facing the world without hearing his whinny or seeing that gorgeous face every day.

But that isn’t today.

Today is about giving him the most glorious life -  and eventually, the most peaceful transition possible.

That is what loving a senior horse truly means.

Honoring the Bond When the Time Comes

Loving deeply means grieving deeply. There is no way around that truth.

At Pet Perennials, we understand that animals, whether horses, dogs, cats, or any beloved companion, are family. The grief is real. The bond is profound. And remembering matters.

Our mission is simple: to honor the life of a beloved pet and support the humans who loved them.

Through meaningful sympathy gifts, remembrance frames, memorial candles, and personalized tributes, we help horse owners and pet lovers commemorate that once-in-a-lifetime bond. Because while fear may try to steal today’s joy, remembrance protects love forever.

Grief will have its time.

But so will gratitude.

Ann Hoff is a well-known Animal Communicator, Intuitive Medium, and a regular contributor to our FB Group “I Am not Crazy Because I Talk to Animals” and leads a monthly Zoom call with members wishing to chat with a pet, or simply ask Ann a question. This month's content addresses the earthly lessons we learn through anticipatory grief and loss.