10/23/2026
Its taken me a bit to process and gather myself to write this 💔
On Wednesday night, we had to say goodbye to our sweet Penelope. I honestly don't even know how to put into words what we are feeling right now. Writing this has taken awhile, along with so many tears, breakdowns and emotions of all kinds.
She was in so much pain, and as much as we wanted to keep fighting, as much as we wanted more time, we had to make the hardest decision of all. The decision no one who loves their animals ever wants to make. It just leaves you questioning everything, wishing there was something more you could have done, wishing you could somehow take the pain away and make everything okay again.
But sometimes loving them means accepting that we can't.
And gosh, that hurts.
Penelope was such a sweet, wise old lady. She had the BEST little nickers, lip smacking, lip licking, especially when feeding time was coming. 🥹 Those little things that become so ordinary in the day-to-day, but knowing how special they truly are. I would give anything in the world to hear them, one more time.
Over the past month, I spent so much time with Penny, medicating her 4–6 times a day for her eye. And somewhere in between all those treatments, all those trips to her, all those times of sometimes having to chase her down in the pasture because she saw me coming, the little moments of caring for her, something truly special happened. It became our time. Our little routine. Our connection. Our place of trust.
It wasn't just about giving medications. It was about showing up for her, again and again. It was about patience; her learning to trust me, and me learning to listen to her. It was about the quiet moments in between everything else, the little interactions that probably wouldn't mean much to anyone else but meant the world to me.
And now, I keep thinking about those moments. All the little things I didn't know I would miss this much.
We are heartbroken.
I feel like we have lost so many pieces of our family.. especially losing 3 in less than a year. Sometimes I honestly wonder how much more our hearts can take. There is a different kind of exhaustion that comes with loving animals so deeply and then having to say goodbye to them. You give them everything you have, fight for them, advocate for them. You lose sleep over them, worry about them day in and day out, celebrate the little victories, and hold on to every bit of hope you can find.
And sometimes, despite everything you do, love still means letting them go.
It is just soul wrenching that we have to make these decisions. The emptiness that comes afterward, when the routines are gone, when you walk into the barn and know someone is missing, when you catch yourself thinking about them and that overwhelming heart sinking moment when you remember all over again that they're not here. Hurting so bad and missing them so much, it hurts to breathe.
But I will never, ever, regret loving them this deeply.
Because loving them means being their voice when they can't tell us in words what they need. It means putting our own wants, our own desperation to keep them here, aside and asking what is truly kindest for them. It means listening, especially when what they're telling us is something we are nowhere near ready to hear.
And this one hurts in a way that is hard to explain. Penelope wasn't just another horse we cared for. She was one of my heart healing horses. She was part of the very soul of what we are building here at Serenity Hills Ranch. I have such a sweet spot for senior horses; and she truly was the sweetest soul. Kind. Patient. Loving. Healing. She had her own quiet wisdom, her own way of connecting, and her own place in the hearts of those who loved her.
We believe so deeply in the healing that happens through connection with these animals, but the truth is, they are healing us, too. They teach us presence, patience, trust, compassion, and how to love without conditions. They remind us that connection doesn't always need words. And sometimes, they teach us the hardest lessons about surrender, acceptance, and letting go.
But this journey continually reminds us that we are human, too. We feel deeply. We hurt deeply. And we are learning, right alongside the people we hope to help, that healing doesn't mean we don't break. Sometimes healing means allowing ourselves to feel the heartbreak of loving something so deeply, without closing our hearts to the love that is still here.
They become our family. They become woven into our everyday lives, our routines, our hearts, and our reasons for getting up and doing it all again. We don't just care for them and send them out into the world untouched. We love them. We get attached. We learn their personalities, their quirks, their preferences, and all the little things that make them who they are.
And when we lose one, we feel that loss in every corner of this place.
Losing Penelope means losing a piece of our healing herd. A piece of our family. A piece of the heart behind Serenity Hills Ranch. And right now, it just hurts, so much.
What I do know is that we have so much love to give. Even when we feel broken. Even when we are scared of the next goodbye. Even when we wonder how we will find the strength to do this again.
Somehow, the love doesn't run out.
Maybe that is the beautiful and hardest thing about loving this deeply. Every goodbye takes something from us, but it never erases what was shared. It never takes away the trust, the connection, the lessons, the memories, or the privilege of having been part of their lives.
So, sweet Penelope, I hope you knew. I hope you felt safe with us. I hope those countless little moments, told you what words never could. I hope you knew that every medication, every visit, every bit of worry, and every moment spent with you came from a place of love.. even though i could tell you werent thrilled sometimes. 😅I wish we could have done more for you and had more time.
Thank you for trusting us. Thank you for our little moments. Thank you for the lessons, the love. Thank you for your soul, your peace, and being a safe space.
You were so loved. Rest easy, our beautiful old lady. You will always be part of our story, part of our healing, and part of our hearts.
Run free, Penelope. 🐎🤍🌿
Until we meet again, sweet girl. 💔
