Julio

 As some of you have noticed, I haven't been posting. It is rare that I find myself struggling for words, and usually when I do, it's not good news. This is no exception. 

Last week, after outliving every prognosis, Julio's body finally gave up. On Sunday, he slept most of the day. On Monday, we started to see signs of end stage kidney failure. On Thursday, I called Lap of Love, hoping for a same day appointment. On Friday, at 11am, Julio passed peacefully on our couch. I was cradling him, my little spoon, and I felt his heart stop as the amazing vet pressed the plunger to free him from a body that repeatedly tried to fail an animal that I can only describe as my soul mate. 

It was definitely time and he enjoyed dino nuggies, tater tots, a steak, and (finally) a piece of chocolate before he passed. I know we gave him the best life and that he had more adventures than most dogs. I know we did the right thing and that there was nothing more to be done. I still feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. 

I never found the strength to write a tribute to Herbie when she passed, and this hurts even worse. I have many good things to blog about from the last two weeks, but right now... I just need space.

Goodnight, my sweet boy. I hope you are running free with your sister and that we meet again some day. I will not forget you as long as I live. Thank you for showing me a love like no other. I miss you so much...

Gunner

 At just about five o'clock on Monday the fifth, I was wrapping up work for the day when my personal phone buzzed. It was Doc. 

"I'm on my way to your barn."

We had an appointment for shots and Coggins that Thursday so I was very confused. I picked up the phone and called his number.

"Hey, Dom."
"Hey, Doc. Why are you on your way to my barn?"
"Fran called. That big horse is down."
"WHAT?!?!"

I messaged my team and told them I was leaving for the day. With the other hand, I called my barn owner.

Dearest Herbie...

 I have no words, but her entire life was documented in this space, so it seems only fair to announce that our amazing Herbie girl left this world on Sunday night, here at home with a belly full of steak and beer. Our lives will never be the same. Her spirit was still strong, but her body was so, so tired. I hope wherever she is, she's running like she used to.

RIP Hawk

I was doing yoga on Thursday when I missed a bunch of calls and texts from Emily. I knew immediately that something was very wrong. The first text message said, "Hawk hurt himself. Vet is on the way." Then I received this graphic photo (TW: eye gore). Crap. I had seen Hawk on Wednesday morning and he'd been totally fine. I hoped it was just an injury to the third eyelid, but I had a bad feeling.

My vet arrived at the barn and immediately advised taking Hawk to New Bolton. On top of the obvious eye injury, he had a nasal discharge that smelled terrible, and his entire face and head were swollen and hot. The hope was that a sinus flush and a course of antibiotics would help.

Unfortunately, the trip to New Bolton revealed bad news on top of bad news. What started as a bad tooth led to a nasty infection tract that basically drilled a hole into the sinus cavity. A CT scan revealed pockets of infection behind Hawk's eye and around his ears. His entire skull was full of pus and the pressure of the build up had caused his third eyelid to prolapse. There were probably skull and orbital bone fractures, and the vets couldn't guarantee there wasn't an underlying mass causing all of this. Chances were that Hawk would lose the eye, but the bigger problem was that they couldn't guarantee they'd even be able to get the infection under control. Even if they did, he would only have use of one nostril after the fact. Worse, Hawk was given less than a 50% chance of surviving the initial treatment. If he did survive, he would have a long and very expensive road ahead, including microbial therapy and an extended hospital stay. I'm not sure that's something I would put a young horse without preexisting medical conditions through. Hawk was 25 with COPD.

Needless to say, Jess made the heartbreaking decision to let him go.

Meanwhile, I sat at home and cried bitterly over the fact that I couldn't even go hold her hand like I normally would because of this stupid pandemic.

Hawk lived a good long life, and Jess just had a lesson with him two weeks ago. He was sound and happy right up until his last day. While this was a horrible way to go, I am glad that the decision was a clear one for Jess's sake. There is no doubt that it was the right thing to do. Still, it's never long enough when you love a heart horse, and  my heart breaks for Jess who has known Hawk most of her life.

I hate that horses are like this. There are so many flaws with the way they're designed, and their teeth are definitely one of them. I had someone compare horse teeth to a mechanical pencil once, and that analogy has stayed with me. A horse's teeth grow continuously throughout its life, like clicking the lead in the pencil. The motion of grazing and chewing wears the teeth down (with the help of annual floats, of course) just like writing with the pencil. And just like the mechanical pencil, the horse's skull one day "runs out of lead". I have seen old horses who get sinus infections from missing teeth before. In fact, some of you may remember Gayle at the rescue, who came in emaciated from exactly that type of infection. Often times, you can flush the sinus, treat with antibiotics, and "plug the hole" to prevent future problems. Our dentist at the rescue actually made a "denture" of sorts for Gayle, and she lived several happy years at a healthy weight after that. But I have never seen an infection this severe or that moved this fast. The horse went from romping happily around his pasture to euthanized in 48 hours and there's nothing anyone could have done about it.

Days like this, I'm not sure why we even do this.

Fly high, Hawk. Good boy <3

RIP Brooklyn

Park Slope
April 1, 2008- September 20, 2019

I received some sad news last night. Brooklyn, the horse I sold in 2016, died at his home in New Hampshire. Apparently he pulled a shoe a few days ago. In the process, he stepped on one of the nails and it punctured his hoof. Unfortunately, his owner didn't realize that was the case right away, and thought he was just ouchy from the pulled shoe. When he came up three-legged some time later, she treated it like an abscess. By the time she figured out that there was something more going on, Brooklyn was suffering from a massive bone infection. Despite aggressive treatment, the infection spread so suddenly that it led to a fracture in the coffin bone. Her vet said that even with surgery, his prognosis was poor, even for life as a pasture mate. She made the decision to put him down. He was only eleven years old.

Goodnight, Sweet Pony

March 25, 1998-  May 10, 2019

"JR's dead."

The words meant nothing to me at first, and my mouth asked blankly, dumbly, "W-what?"

"JR's dead," my shell-shocked husband repeated, but it still didn't feel real.

I'd just seen him, between my morning ride and my afternoon lessons. I'd managed to get a good day in, between the scattered rain showers.

My fat, shiny Morgan pony was at the back of the pasture at 2:30 pm, grazing happily. I whistled at him, and he swished his tail, lifted his head, and decided that the lush spring grass was far more interesting than anything I had to offer. He put his head back down, grabbing another mouthful, and I got in my car and drove away.

Four hours later, Mike found him down in the pasture, dead of an apparent heart attack at only 21 years old. I honestly thought he'd outlive us all. He was the easiest keeper I've ever owned. He got fat on air, required almost no farrier or vet care, had the best feet and ground manners I've ever seen on a horse, and got along with everybody I ever turned him out with. He had exactly one unscheduled vet visit in seven years, for a sudden mystery lameness that ended up resolving on its own. And now the flies were swarming him as the stallion ran the fence line, screaming frantically.

The only solace I can find is that he seems to have gone quickly, with a mouthful of green and no sign of a struggle. Here one minute, gone the next. That doesn't help the rest of us though.

Everyone keeps saying things like, "He missed Ozzy," or, "He needed his friend," but I think JR would be horrified to arrive at the pearly gates to find my goofy bay standardbred standing there with a feed pan dangling from his mouth, ready to slap a very unamused pony in the head.

For the first time in twelve years, I don't own a single horse.

Life Lately...

I have so many posts that I need to write, and so little inspiration to write them.

We do have some news around here lately.

The biggest and most important thing is that Mike got a new job!! He's been landscaping with the same company since we started dating, and he had job security, good co-workers, and a flexible boss. Plus we got our winters off together, which was nice, but financially pretty stressful. However, the job was sort of a dead end. Mike's co-worker and friend (they went to school and played baseball together back in the day) is set to inherit the company when the boss retires (supposedly in 2019) and there was some talk of partnering, etc. In the end, however, this was not a solid long term plan. The long, unpredictable hours were getting old, and Mike was ready for a career.

As luck would have it, the company our friend, Andrew, works for was sort of unofficially looking for someone to fill a position locally. It's a huge international company with lots of different divisions. The formal job title is "Metrology and Fleet Maintenance Manager". Andrew mentioned Mike to the boss, and they requested a resume. Mike interviewed for the position on Thursday and they offered him the job on the spot. He'll be starting in two weeks (and his boss took the news really well!)

This is a real job with a regular salary, benefits, paid overtime, vacation days, and a climate-controlled office, but Mike won't have to wear a suit and tie every day, and the job uses skills that he already has. I've been telling him he's overqualified for his job for years, and it's good to see someone else recognize and reward his abilities. Plus, it's a great foot in the door for a big company that's been around for 150 years. Financially, things probably won't change too drastically at first, but it's a big step in the right direction. Best of all, at least one of us will be making a steady paycheck regardless of what the weather is doing!

Change is scary, and I know Mike is nervous, but I'm super excited for him, and beyond proud of him for taking a big leap of faith.

Unfortunately, not all of our news has been this happy.

Last week, we noticed that Dispo, my little gray barn cat buddy, hasn't been showing up. Usually we see him a fair amount and he's under foot for much of the day. He likes to help me with the stalls, and he's frequently in the way when we work the horses.

We posted his picture in some local lost and found pet groups, and had a few potential leads from local people who had cats who might match his description.

On Thursday afternoon, Shelby found Dispo in the hay loft, and he has passed. There wasn't a mark on him, and he was curled up as if he'd been sleeping. He wasn't an old cat, and he seemed healthy the last time we saw him.

Mike came out and buried him for us yesterday.

RIP, Devil Cat.

RIP Dancer

I woke up to a message nobody wants to receive. Dancer's little girl wrote to tell me that Dancer had been killed in a trailering accident. They were on their way back from a show, where he'd done very well. I had just seen  photos of him plastered in blue ribbons, and his little girl had recently friended me so I could get updates. She'd moved him to a friend's barn and Mike and I were talking about possibly going to visit him one day. Apparently he suffered a badly broken pelvis and had to be put down right there at the gas station. I am sick about it. He was so loved... by his breeders, by us, by his current owners. I cannot imagine the heartbreak, and I am pretty devastated myself. RIP, Dancer. You were everything a thoroughbred should be and more.

Spyder

Last week was very hard. I got a call from Jess on Tuesday asking if I was anywhere near the horse hospital. I live ten minutes away, and I found out that Spyder was there and not doing well. I left work as fast as I could and beat Jess to the clinic (she lives two hours away). Spyder was in acute renal failure and he looked really rough when I got there. It's not my story to tell, but the short version is that Spyder didn't make it. I cancelled my Wednesday lessons to be with Jess and Spyder in his final hours. Jess's post about it is here.  My heart breaks for her and I cannot imagine what she is going through. Spyder was only nine and they had already accomplished so much together.

RIP, big guy. You are already missed so much.

Vito didn't make it. I fed him two hours ago and he was cleaning his face, acting rowdy, and eating well. I came out to feed him again and he was curled up with his hot water bottle, sleeping as always. Except, when I picked him up he wasn't asleep at all. He was stiff and cold. Bummer. I knew his chances were slim, but I was hoping to beat the odds. At least it looks like he went peacefully...

RIP Boo Boo

I don't have it in me to write an entry about it right now, but we laid Boo Boo to rest this morning.

Run free, big girl. Long live the Queen.

RIP Spot

I just found out that Cate put Spot down on Thursday :(

RIP Kodak

My bunny died tonight. Bryce found him when he got home. He appears to have gone peacefully in his sleep. He was six years old and had been looking a bit disheveled of late. He lived a good life and I will miss him. He can go be with his chinchilla buddy at last. :(

RIP Gayle

At long last, we had to put Gayle down. Erin did a lovely tribute post to her. I'll admit I wasn't close to the mare. When she came in in the dead of winter, she was starved nearly to death. I couldn't picture a way for this 27 year old, Cushings mare to survive the harsh winter conditions. She frequently fell down on her way to the indoor, the only turn out she could handle. She didn't have many teeth and could barely eat. Her eyes and nose ran terribly. I could count every bone in her body. Quite frankly, she smelled like death. I accepted right off the bat that Gayle wouldn't be with us for long.

Well, the crusty old hag proved me wrong. Not only did she survive the winter. She made it through the entire year and yet another incredibly hard winter. She made it to her birthday. She made it to the beautiful days of spring.

It certainly wasn't an easy journey. Dr. Foster did experimental 'denture' procedures to make chewing easier for her. Erin did extensive research and found a feed the poor mare could actually eat, digest, and not choke on. Then Erin and I badgered Bosslady until we were allowed to buy the feed, at great cost to SRF. We burned through the $10k endowment left for the mare and her buddy in record time. Dr. B got us pergolide for her Cushings and countless volunteers helped Gayle through the shedding process each season.

As for me? I was the dreaded medicine lady. When Gayle suffered sinus infections, I was the one flushing her nose with surgical scrub. When she cut her eye open, I was the one who cleaned the wound. When she needed dental work, I dragged her away from her pasture and her buddies. Worming? Me. Vaccines? Me. Any sort of unpleasant medical procedure that needed to be done for this poor ancient horse? Still me. There were days when I couldn't catch Gayle. She'd see me coming and high tail it to the far end of her pasture... certainly not a thing of great beauty, but you had to admire her will to live. In fact, she immediately took over as herd leader in our group of bossy, mean mares.

She was ugly. She smelled funny. She was a grouchy old thing. She wasn't a snuggly horse, but she became a sort of land mark at SRF.

In the mean time, Erin took a liking to the old thing. She spent time brushing her, taking her for hand walks, and finding the spots with the lushest grass for her to eat. The admiration seemed to be mutual.

Some time last month,  the founder came in and noticed that Gayle had lost a lot of weight. She had been fine the Friday before. It seemed she had lost the pounds over night. The next day, she was listless in her field. The part time barn staff had a hard time getting her to her feet and she needed help getting the mare into the barn. The end appeared to be near.

Dr. B came out and drew blood. He said something was obviously wrong systemically. A few days later, the test results came back. The numbers were ten times what they should be, indicating liver failure. It was a death sentence. Sure, she might have some good days left, but she would never put the weight back on and it would only be a matter of time. When the suffering began, it would be unbearable. I'll be damned if I let a horse get to that point.

There was a stream of people who came to say goodbye. Volunteers, old adopters, and of course the woman whose brother died and left her behind.

Last week, I called Dr. B. We gave Gayle a beautiful last day. By then she looked like she'd been, as Erin put it, tarred, feathered, and set on fire. It was 70 degrees and sunny. Gayle enjoyed hand grazing, brushing, and a bag full of carrots. At the end of the day, Dr. B drove out and we laid her to rest under the flowering trees. It was the most peaceful death I've seen, and she was gone halfway through the first dose and dropped quietly in the grass. She was definitely ready to go.

RIP, Gayle. Go be with your owner and your best friend.

RIP Valley Victory

Ozzy's grandsire, Valley Victory (also Jabby's grandsire) was euthanized due to kidney failure today. He's always been one of my favorite stallions. He was 25, so he had a good run.