Honouring Bob

On the 22nd of October, my beloved horse Bob passed away.

It’s taken me a few weeks to find the words to share what happened. And even now, I feel like I’m only beginning to process the depth of what he meant to me. But I want to honour him here, and to share with you the grace and mystery of his passing, which unfolded with a quiet reverence that I’ll never forget.

Bob was more than a horse. He was a soulmate, a steady companion, and one of my great loves.

His Final Days

In the days leading up to his transition, I stayed close. I let him into the house yard to graze on the lush green grass, brushed his soft winter coat, bathed him, played music for him, gave himhomoeopathic remedies and read aloud the passages in the book where he was featured. I fed him ripe pears, his favourite food, and showered him with affection.

When I asked if he was ready, the answer came clear as day:“I’m done.”

There were signs, too. One morning I woke at 5am to a crash in the stable. The herd had cornered him while he was licking salt, and they had kicked him badly. When I arrived, he was shaking and bleeding. He hadn’t fought back. He never did, even when he was young. It wasn't his way.

He was frail now, blind in one eye and his body was moving slowly. More often than not, he chose to isolate himself from the herd rather than be amongst them. He had only recently recovered from a mystery infection. It seemed that both Bob and the herd had decided it was time.

I placed him in a separate paddock to rest with Kona, his bonded partner of 13 years, beside him for comfort. But I knew: the most loving thing I could do was to let him go with peace, grace, and dignity.

A Sacred Goodbye

When the vet arrived, she asked me if I was absolutely sure. I was. I held Bob’s head, sobbing, and told him how much I loved him. He rested his muzzle on my heart, and his warm breath told me he understood.

It was peaceful. Quiet. Over in just a few minutes. I laid freshly picked roses across his body and sat with him for a long time. I didn’t want to leave. I missed him already.

The Herd's Ritual

What happened next will stay with me forever.

Elvis, the sweetest brumby you'll ever meet, stood over me while I sobbed, holding space for me with incredible depth, strength and sensitivity.

Leotie, our chestnut brumby from Kosciuszko, stood beside his body for hours, unmoving, head lowered. Little Luna Sage, our Shetland, mirrored her exactly: same posture, same stillness. Later, Hawk, our paint brumby, lay down fully next to Bob’s body, his head on the earth. Luna followed, lying down, too.

And Kona… I had been worried for her most of all. She and Bob had been bonded for many years, inseparable. At first, she avoided the body, sheltering under the apple gum tree. But eventually, she came. She sniffed him, then startled at the lifelessness. But Buffalo, our herd leader, stood beside her. With his presence, she found the courage to face it.

It was clear: they knew. They all knew.

Later, when the excavator came to dig the grave and place a large stone over it, the energy shifted. The loud clanking stirred the herd. Suddenly, they all began to gallop. Together, in formation, they ran around the paddock. Again and again, as if in celebration. A joyful release. A victory lap for a soul now free.

Still With Us

Bob was always a rock of support, steady, grounded, reliable. Now, quite literally, he rests beneath a great rock that overlooks our land. It has become a sacred place where we can sit, commune with him, and tune into his wisdom.

Kona and I have been walking the forest trails together lately. She seems different, stronger, more emotionally balanced. With Bob gone, she no longer carries the weight of being his guardian. There’s a new calmness in her. She no longer has to worry if Bob's all right. And I feel it in myself, too.

There’s no need to protect him anymore.
He is free. And somehow, still very near.

With love,
Lisa & the herd

P.S.The book will be dedicated to Bob. Prince, Minister and absolute gentleman. What a privilege and an honour to spend 18 years with such a kind and noble horse.