The day I killed my horse

My horse, my friend of 20 years. She was a big girl, 18hh for those who understand that. She was crop high and had no neck. She was a registered appaloosa. Everyone who had ever seen her, always remembered her. She was a striking girl. No neck, almost steel grey in summer and speckled grey in winter.

I received a call from the owners of the property that she was staying on for grass control to advise me she had been rolling and was sweating. I raced home, suspecting that she had colic.

I called the vet and organized for them to meet me at home (500m from the property) I walked her home with the Old Man, her life-time mate following, no halter, no bridle.

The vet gave her some pain killers and then the waiting began. I walked and walked and walked her. For 5 hours. There is little else that can be done. An operation can be done, but the cost and the age of the horse, pre-determined that this was not a viable option.

The Old Man, walked beside me almost the entire time, encouraging her, encouraging me to try and fix the pain. It was a constant battle to keep her on her feet. She constantly wanted to roll to stop the pain. This is the worst thing you can let them do.

The vet came back and advised there was nothing else could be done. A decision had to made and the sooner the better.

I sent the children down to the property that the horses had come from to advise them that needed to come and say good-bye. Hubby was yet to come home. I was alone. She went to roll again. The pain killers must have been wearing off. I ended up underneath her. I heard my leg ‘pop’ the pain was unbearable.

I remember her getting up and off me, the pain was agonizing. I rolled under a raised water tank, thinking that would give me some protection if she came down again.

The Old Man was trying to help her. She was trying to figure out why I was hiding from her.

Hubby came home, called out apparently, I don’t remember hearing him. The kids came back with the friends to say goodbye to her. All these people and no-one could see me!

Finally I was spotted under the tank, passed out. Many hands tried to get me out and walking. I couldn’t weight bear.

Ambulance was called, I refused to leave until she had been “dropped” In other words killed.

All was organized. All was done, I could leave, knowing that I had done the best thing I could in the circumstances. I could not leave her to suffer and I refused to leave my friend of 20 years in agony whilst I was tended.

RIP – Garrisson Three Bells (Char) – I knew you and loved you for 20 years.

See tomorrows post for the continuing story........................