Shattered. May be distressing
I wrote out a massive post about how this ended, but I don't want to think about it. It's too sad. I want to remember the fun, how he lived.
This morning, my gorgeous bay thoroughbred passed away. He was 26 years old. He came into a life 18 years ago, almost by accident. We had a horse that I rode and we'd gotten him a mare as a friend. She was a bit wild, too wild for us to manage (we were very inexperienced) and I mentioned in passing that we should get another horse. I looked in the paper and saw an ad for him so we went and checked him out. He was in the middle of the eastern suburbs of Melbourne, in a paddock full of horses, surrounded by surburbia. His rug had been stolen and he was a little twitchy on his feet but he was amazing. He was eight years old.
We brought him home and our other gelding got particularly protective of the mare. He pressed himself against the gate so we couldn't let this new bloke in. They fought and carried on, new boy always backing down. But suddenly he realised he was a lot bigger than the other, so the roles were reversed. we let them be to try and sort it out, but they failed. We removed the mare and then they were best of friends.
He was an ex-pacer and it didn't matter what we did, we couldn't get the trot out of him. We'd be off, having a lovely canter and here he'd come with either me or my stepdad on his back, going madly side to side as he went into super trot mode. Legs flying sideways, it was funny to watch, but horrible to be on! We went on so many rides. Entire days out, weaving through the tracks alongside the road. He always pooped. Whether he was out of the paddock for three seconds or a whole day, he pooped. We would laugh and say that's how he'd find his way home, following his poop trail. I fell off him once, out in the street. He left me there and ran all the way home! He would yawn each and every time we gave him an apple. He'd yawn three times. Cracked us up every time. He'd stand at the gate nearest the house and claw at it with his front foot, trying to get our attention, wanting a carrot or an apple. He would stand on a spread out bale of hay, guts that he was, so the other horse couldn't eat any. We had to put piles of hay out all over the place because he wouldn't share. He was petrified of motorbikes, leaping up an embankment on our first encounter with one. He hated flies and would run up and down the paddock until he got rid of them. On cold winter mornings, we'd look out the windows as we got up and see the two boys playfighting in the paddock. Rearing and biting and kicking each other. But never a mark to be seen. At the end of the "fight", they'd go and nibble each other's shoulder, a sign of friendship. We called it their morning warm up. If people came to visit and we were sitting in the outdoor area, it wasn't unusual for him to turn up, stick his head over the fence to check out what we were doing.
He was devoted to our other horse. Once we'd sold the mare and she'd moved on, they were friends for life. Our other horse injured his leg and had to be confined in yards for six weeks, and here he was in a large paddock alone. But he stood beside the yards, next to his buddy, never straying far. He loved all animals. Was interested in the dog, would nibble on a cow's head. He was a gentle giant. He'd spend hours against a side fence where on the other side was the neighbour's horses. He had quite a love affair with their white mare. He'd nibble her and she'd squeal and carry on. Sometimes it'd start in the middle of the night and mum would be out yelling at them all to go away!
The first time we had to call a vet was three years ago. Our other horse had always needed one, he had skin issues, injuries, sickness. But not this guy. So it was a bit of a surprise to see he wasn't right. He had colic and it was treated effectively. But it came back again. Second time treated without a problem. The vet warned it could be recurring, but we haven't had a problem in all this time. Last year our other horse went down, really sick. We thought we'd lose him. We had to keep the two separated but they never left each other's sight. He pulled through.
So yesterday, when mum called me, desperate, it just felt different. He was down, but he got back up when I arrived. Yesterday was a long and distressing day. There were lots of tears, but when I left late yesterday, he was up and walking around. He was on extreme painkillers, but even when they wore off last night, he was still walking around, not looking like he was in pain, just looking uncomfortable. Nothing like he had earlier in the day that made us call the vet on four separate occasions. But as I left yesterday and went into the paddock to give him a pat goodbye, our other horse, the one we'd always considered to be my baby, came at me. Neck arched, ears back. He was protecting his buddy. Late last night, he was still wandering around, giving mum no reason for major concern.
This morning, my stepdad got up at 5.30am and went to check on him. Found that he'd passed away. I wasn't going to go. I don't deal with things like this very well. They'd taken the other horse out of the paddock. I had to follow DH to the mechanic and then he was going to bring me home, but on the way I just made a decision. I had to go and say goodbye. I had to thank him for the eighteen years of memories, of fun. We got there and I went down into the paddock and just sat with him. Cried, talked to him, thanked him. Patted his face, his neck, scratched the lowest part of his neck, where he'd always stick his head in the air and nibble away, loving the attention. I took the halter off. His body was still warm, but he was lying like he'd gone in peace. I'd seen the evidence on the ground from the day before of him being in distress, and there was none of that this morning. Just him in the grass, the wind blowing. I did all the things I wanted to, the only way I could say goodbye to him. Now we have to watch his buddy, left behind and alone, watch that he doesn't fret and try to make arrangements for company for him.
I feel so blessed to have had him for so long. From the day he arrived on the property, eighteen years ago, he never again stood in a float. They moved around the neighbourhood some summers, keeping the grass down in neighbour's paddocks. RIP my darling Indy. You are so loved.
