06/16/2026
There aren't many souls in this world that I have known for ten years. Fewer yet that I know intimately well-their likes and dislikes, their history of friends and enemies, the exact snack that they will bowl over their best friends to reach.
Rosa was one of those souls.
Yesterday Rosa left this world for the next. I found her peacefully lying in the barn where she liked to spend her afternoons as of late. It looked as if she was just on her way to nap and laid down and took that long rest that comes to us all eventually.
When you are a caretaker of animals, any animals-livestock, pets, zoo, even backyard wildlife-the best you can ask of them at the end is to leave you without indecision.
Did I do enough?
Did I do too much?
Was it their time?
Was it past their time and I didn't let go soon enough?
The endless loop of “Did I do the right thing?”
When you have a farm, you are there for the ends of many souls. The end is not something hidden away, something that happens "elsewhere". It happens in your barn, in your fields, sometimes in your arms. It is right there, always ready to take its place in the order of things.
But as a caretaker of other creatures, you are often asked to be the one who opens the door that leads to the end. You are the one who must choose when that time has come to the old, the sick and the infirm. You are the one who must decide when the fight is over or the pain is too much or the next winter is too likely to end things the hard way. It is never an easy decision and one often fraught with agonizing indecision. It is an incredible responsibility to hold that decision in your hands and honestly, one of the responsibilities that I hate most.
And so today I thank Rosa for taking all of that away from me, at least this one time. I searched my heart for anything I missed, anything more I might have done, any missteps that I could have done better. I could find none.
Rosa left this world in many ways on top of her game--ancient (at least 15, more likely 17-18!) but sound of mind and body until the very end when I have to think her heart said its time and just stopped. She had a wonderful spring with free roam of the yard and barns--the best of alfalfa, a daily feed of her favorite "Rosa cake" and all the other random snacks she could con out of me each day. She had the leisure time and energy to decimate some of my flowers, push down a door when I came too late for breakfast one day and had properly taught the new turkeys how to respect her food dish (Rosa did NOT share).
She wanted for nothing and as of yesterday morning at least, was full of vim and vinegar and many opinions about how life should be. Rosa never asked for things, she demanded. She was never shy about her requests and more than once broke doors/gates/fences in her quest to get what her heart desired. Literally hours before her passing she was banging on the barn door and hollering because I was ever so slightly late with breakfast...if I feel that good in my late 90s, I will feel most blessed indeed.
I will share some Rosa stories later this week but for today I just wanted to say thank you to Rosa, my friend. Thank you for making this easy. Thank you for being you to the end. Thank you for taking the hardest decision out of my hands and doing things your own way.
