The hardest post to write

To say it's been awhile is an understatement, but I've been through the wringer this month, to say the least.

Those close to me already know why this post will be the hardest thing that I've ever written....on December 11, 2011, my best friend in the whole wide world had to be humanely euthanized. 

To know me is to have known my horse, so for the past few weeks I've felt rather lost.  There have been good days and bad, great notes of sympathy and questions galore, so I figured I might as well set the record straight on what exactly happened, if for nothing else of not having to relive the story over and over again.

It was a typical Sunday afternoon out at the barn.  I came out a little later than normal, so Shy Guy, Turner, and I could all three have a good time in the indoor arena without disturbing anyone else.  My horse and my dog get along great...Turner is my little blue heeler trail dog...he loves running along behind Shy when I'm riding. 

My horse had been saddled and we headed into the arena for a little bit of lunging.  For those of you that don't know what that is, basically it is when we hook a long rope onto our horses halter so they can run around us in large circles, namely to stretch out their muscles before working, and also to relieve some of their excess energy.  Shy could go either way when lunging - lazy as hell, or running around like a two-year-old.  Since it was a crisp day, and he hadn't been exercised the day before, he was more of the latter.  After going around just fine for awhile, he dug in his hind heels to run hard a little bit and kick up....and when he did, there was this large snapping noise. 

He almost fell as soon as it happened, but I got him to stop right away and he instantly pulled one of his hind legs up under his belly and held it there, unable to bear any weight on.  It was at that very instant that I knew it was bad.  VERY bad.  Lucky enough for both of us, I had my cell phone in my pocket, called my trainer who was at the front of the property in her house.  She booked it outside and called our veterinarian's office to get the on-call equine vet out to the property.  Waiting for the vet to get there seemed like forever, but it only took about 45 minutes.  In that time, I cried....alot.  We removed his saddle and put a nice warm blanket on him during the wait, to try and keep him from getting too stressed out. 

This is where things become harder for me to say.  I could suffice it to say that there are certain visions when something traumatic like this happens that you will remember forever.  One such moment for me was when I had my trainer hold on to his lead line while I went to get his blanket....when I came back toward him, he tried to walk away from her to me.  It was at this period that I knew I couldn't think about myself at all in any of this.  He was scared, and all I could do was whatever I could to keep him calm, let him know that I was there for him.  After all of the times he's been there for me, I don't think I could ever repay him, but I could sure try. 

The vet finally arrived, gave him some sedative and pain medication (we had already given him some anti-inflammatory medication prior to her arrival), and set up the portable x-ray machine.  Right before this I had to get him to hobble a few feet closer to the entrance of the arena so we could be near the outlet for the x-rays.  I know that had to be painful for him, but he trusted me, knowing I would do whatever was best for him despite it all. 

After about the third image via x-ray, the vet informed me that she already found a break or two, and after carefully looking at all the images, there were at least three breaks to my horse's pastern. 

Nothing prepares you for the drop in your stomach that accompanies that type of news.  I knew exactly what it meant.  Had it been a single break, he might have been a candidate for a surgical procedure where they inserted a plate to piece it back together and begin the healing process, but with at least three breaks, there isn't anything to plate together, and with my horse being older, the chance at any kind of decent lifestyle (free of pain) became obsolete.  He had almost the exact same injury as the famous racehorse, Barbaro, who had to be put down due to painful laminitis. 

My trainer knew as well, and told me to take a walk and make any necessary calls.  I called my parents and talked to my mother, who said very little to me, but told me, "You know what you have to do."  And I did know.

I walked back inside to my trainer and the vet and just shook my head...I couldn't say the words.  My trainer started crying as well, and reassured me that I was making the right decision...I couldn't let him be in pain.

From that point on, I stayed right by Shy's side.  He knew he was hurt bad, but despite it all he just let me stand there and pet him, talk to him, give him little nose kisses.  You've heard people say that they've "seen their life flash before them."  Well, even though I wasn't in any danger, this is exactly what happened to me during the time that I had left with him.  It all raced through my head...14 years of ups and downs, stories, memories, places...and he got to be a part of that with me.  We grew up together, and he helped me become the person I am today.

When an animal is in pain like that, the sooner they are out of it, the better, so I prepared myself.  My trainer asked me if I needed anything, and I asked her if she could find some carrots or other treats.  Normally you can't give horses treats in excess for dietary reasons, but since that was not going to be a factor, I was going to let him have as many as he wanted.  If for nothing else, I wanted him to know that none of this was his fault, and that he always did everything I ever asked him to do. 

The vet made the preparations, more sedatives and more painkillers.  An IV had to be inserted, and we were going to have to partake in the task of getting him to hobble outside.  This was by far the hardest thing I have had to do.  We cushioned and wrapped up his leg as much as possible - I led him and my trainer and the vet followed behind to help support him on the walk outside.  That vision will be the hardest for me to deal with for a long time.  Even though he was in pain, and his body was coursing with drugs, he trusted me.  He never once planted his feet or gave up trying for me. 

Once outside, I gave him to my trainer.  Told him I loved him, that he was the best horse in the world.  I walked away and never looked back.  That's how I needed to remember him. 

My trainer explained that when he was injected he went down easy, and her and the vet braided part of his tail, cut it off, and gave it to me, so I would always have a piece of him.  Needless to say, I cried myself to sleep that night.

Reality doesn't hit until afterward, how much your life changes when something traumatic happens.  I won't get into the details of how much anxiety I experienced during the first week, but we will just suffice it to say that it was bad.  It's been an adjustment ever since, and I won't be purchasing another horse of my own for quite some time, but I am getting back in the saddle next week.  He would want that for me.  We didn't share all of those years and lessons and rides so that I could put those skills to waste. 

I'm thankful for those around me that have been empathetic and sympathetic.  The veterinarian, my trainer, and all of my friends (horsey and non-horsey)....I don't know what I would have done without everyone's support. 

It's been a whirlwind in 2011, so here's to hoping for a fresh start in 2012.

My best friend, Shy Guy:  gone, but far from forgotten




Song of the day:  "Coming Home"  Gwyneth Paltrow (Shy was always "home" for me)