I just got through a really tough weekend. My very elderly horse, Miss, had been diagnosed with Cushings more than 10 years ago, and had been faring well on Pergolide, aside from the usual long hair problem. On Friday night, on the way into the barn for supper, she tripped badly on a rock that she has been walking around for 20+ years. I thought she was going to go down, but she righted herself, and got into the barn. I decided that I should buy the wherewithall to install a floodlight at the barn door so she could see better. Saturday morning, I waited until it was light out before doing the morning feed, hoping this would help her. Nope, she tripped very badly again. So, after considerable rushing around to various stores, I managed to get the flood light up and in operation before the evening feed. Darn it all, she fell over the rock again! Unsettled by this, and also by a phone call to tell me that a friend had been found dead in her home (natural causes), I didn't get to sleep until after 2:00 a.m. Sunday. I had decided that I would phone local farmers to find one with a tractor and bucket large enough to move the rock out of the way.
Sunday morning, Miss seemed to be in a bewildered state out in the field. Babe, the big Belgian, proceeded to kick and bully her, and Miss didn't seem to be able to get out of the way. I got the other horses in, and then Miss came up to the barn, and walked into the side of it! I got her inside, and she walked into the front of her stall wall instead of through the door. Once in the stall, her head and neck jerked sideways like a person with Parkinson's Disease would. She couldn't seem to co-ordinate her mouth to eat, although she was not at all unsteady on her feet. I realized then that what I was probably seeing was something related to end-stage Cushings. The tumour on the pituitary gland had enlarged to the point that she had gone blind. I put in a call to the vet. As I was waiting for a return call, I tried to feed Miss carrots, but her mouth twisted up to the side, and she had a hard time managing them. When the vet arrived, she determined that what we were probably seeing was seizure activity related to pressure on the brain. So I decided that this should be the end. We put Miss to sleep in her pasture, not far from where she had her one and only foal. I like the symbology -- the circle of life and death -- that this represents. When the vet was leaving, she gave me a big hug, and said I had done the right thing.
My sister arranged for a backhoe to come. The gentleman was very considerate and gentle with the body (I couldn't watch that part), and he smoothed the earth softly over her resting place. He even smoothed out the ground where his backhoe's landing pads had made indentations.
I'm sad, of course, but not as devastated as I was by the loss of Miss's daughter, Clover, at age 11. Miss was remarkably healthy, except for the Cushings. She was sound, in good weight, and had never had colic or lameness issues. We competed at Medium 1 level (Second Level they call it nowadays) in dressage. We did a competitive trail ride, did lots of hacking, and a little jumping. I could take her anywhere, even into the midst of groups of wheelchairs, where she soaked up pats and praises from handicapped elderly individuals. She lived a good, full life, she reached her potentials, and had a kind ending, without pain, as far as I could tell.
We got finished in the field just before the first of the storm fronts came through. An hour later, the second front arrived. Let me mention that I live in a mobile home. Well, this second front came in like Doom. It got pitch black, and I could hear an odd whistling noise, like a jet engine. Then an odd, snorgling noise. I realize that snorgle isn't a word, but it is descriptive. The noise sounded like the inhale phase of a snore, heard through a long, large vacuum cleaner hose. This alternated with the high-pitched whine at about 10 second intervals. Tornado! I thought. I got the dog to lie down beside me in the hallway, where at least book cases wouldn't crush me if the house tipped. The noises went on for about a minute and a half, then lots more rain and thunder. I'm absolutely positive that a funnel cloud must have passed overhead without touching down. When that was over, I scooted out to the barn to check on my remaining 3 horses. They were OK, thank goodness, but needless to say I was toast by that time. I went into the house and dosed myself with Rescue Remedy. I really needed it by then.
So that was my weekend. Farewell Grecian Miss, 1974 - 2005. You can see a picture of us in competition the early 1980s
here, or on her 30th birthday,
here if you are so inclined. Miss, I'll look for you at the other end of the Rainbow Bridge, and we can travel the green pastures there together.