I lost this beautiful boy yesterday. When I went out to feed at 5:00 a.m. Beege heard me coming and whinnied a bit pitifully from a place near the pasture — not his normal waiting place. It was still dark but I found him lying down, steam rising from his body. Not good. He'd obviously been rolling and was in pain. I walked up to the barn to get a halter to help him. By that time he'd gotten himself up and came up to his stall.
At first I was relieved, thinking he was okay but he started pawing violently in his stall. I called the vet emergency service and was about to put on his halter when he went down and got himself cast against the wall, couldn't get up. By then my vet called to say she was on her way, driving time. I tried to help him up by putting a lead around his front hooves and rolling him my way. Somehow he managed to get himself up, ripped a wooden post from the wall and headed back outside. I called him back in so I could halter him before he went somewhere else to roll.
Even in his extreme pain he was compliant and wanted my help. I got him haltered and we walked outside where there was a little more room in case he went down again. And he did. By then Randy came up to the barn with a cup of tea for me, because he's sweet that way. He's not a horse guy but he asked if he could pet B and so he did. He went back up to the house to take care of our old dog, Jodee, while I waited for the vet. B was up again and I kept him walking to avoid going down again.
By the time the vet arrived, he went down again and cast himself against the barn. Between the vet and me, we got him up again and she injected him with a sedative. How he did not gash his legs by getting stuck against walls is beyond me.
The vet did her normal check with the stethoscope and injected him again with more sedative. Not enough sounds in the hind gut, which means blockage. We started discussing options. Surgery? He might not make it to the operating room. Since B was retired I didn't have him insured for colic surgery, mostly because his quality of life post-surgery probably wouldn't be great.
The vet put on the long rectum sleeve and felt around for poop and blockage. No poop. More injection as he was obviously still in pain.
At that point he put his forehead on my abdomen and rested it there for a moment. It was a poignant moment and remembering makes my eyes water.
The next step was to tube his nostril to see if she could draw any liquid out of his stomach. Some came out, along with a bit of grain that he'd eaten the night before. His dinner hay must've been between that part of his stomach and whatever was blocking the exit. He'd eaten most of his hay so we concluded that I caught his colic early, which is a blessing sort of. Less time to be in excruciating pain.
She said that if he colicked again through the third sedative that she could give him the super sedative, the morphine based one, and ultrasound his gut. With the ultrasound, she saw the front part of the gut moving a little but nothing in the hind gut. We made the decision to put him down.
The morphine made B feel calmer and as always he was compliant. I lead him up to the back pasture with a spot in mind for burial. He stopped at the crest of a small hill and started to graze. His final meal, his last moments of being a horse.
If he had pooped on the way up to that spot, I would've rejoiced but I knew he was just being a horse, relaxing with me for a few moments.
Dr. Claire came up with her kit and explained to me how it would work, the series of injections, how she would help him lie down after the first injection and how I could be at his head for the final one.
It was still dark when she began. He went down with a predictable thump. I loved on him, told him what a good boy he'd been, and then he was gone.
A horse's body takes several minutes to shut down. About 30% of their body is respiratory so they exhale several times even after the heart has stopped. I probably would've been shocked by that if Dr. Claire hadn't explained what to expect. My only other experience was with cats and they exhale only once.
I spent the day alternately mourning and worrying about Odin the Mustang. Per Dr. Claire's advice I let him discover B's body. It took a couple hours and when O finally saw him, he spooked then walked over to investigate. As a mustang who grew up on the range, I felt certain that O had seen more dead horses than I ever have but I wasn't sure what to expect from him.
O grazed near B's body for a few hours. The excavator was coming but I wasn't sure when so I covered B's body with a tarp. O didn't like that. He tried picking up the tarp with this teeth, pawing at it. Maybe he wasn't ready yet. I'm not sure.
The excavator did arrive in the afternoon and B is buried now. O seems to be looking for him, a little lost, clingier to me than usual.
Rest in Peace Winterproof. June 3, 2003 – February 7, 2020.