I've always thought if I listened hard enough I could tell what a horse was saying. Listening comes in different forms. Sometimes it's the obvious head tossing, bucking, spinning horse that I'm dealing with. Sometimes I wait for the little "try" that a horse gives. Sometimes it's just a cock of the ear, a swish of a tail, just one step that is different, the roll of a muscle underneath your saddle, the flicker in an eye-even that is noticeable if one is really listening. But waiting for a horse to tell me it's time to end it all is a new one for me. I've dealt with my other smaller animals regarding this issue but never a horse. This horse. This horse that I've literally put my blood, sweat and tears into, that I've learned so much about horses from birth to death. This horse that I've trained from birth, dealt with all her good and bad habits. Some of the good and the bad are her tendencies or my training deficits, and in any case having to encourage or retrain either her or me. This horse that I gave up only to have her given back to me for nursing her thru these final few weeks. This horse that has taught me so much about myself while all along I thought I was learning how to ride and care for a horse. This horse.
Zoe had spent from July 28 to August 30 in a holding pattern. I wasn't sure if she was going to get better or worse. There were so many improvements and then she hit a plateau. Things remained the same for a few weeks. Her Bowen treatments were done, she was out in the pasture with the other horses and was doing fine. She even trotted, on purpose, with grace and brakes. I heard that she loped out the pasture gate to catch up with the other horses to eat grass. She started some different treatments to deal with her jaw/head problems, trying to make her more comfortable. I was starting to think that I could see if she could do more than just the little bit of ground work that we had done over the past few weeks. I always kept in mind that at anytime she might be worse again. And I spent much of my time just grooming her and listening to what she was trying to tell me. Because even with all those improvements and the plateau that she hit, I felt that she still had more to "say".
Saturday, August 29th was the day I knew things were going to be different. Zoe was still doing okay but it was as if she was telling me that morning that her time was short. She was so sweet that morning as I groomed her and as I went over those "special" areas that she had, her lingering enjoyment of being touched in those places was intense. She was telling me and I was listening. Words can't describe how I knew, but I knew.
Sunday was a whirlwind of activity. And there wasn't much time to spend with the horses. Zoe looked the same when I checked on her.
Monday, August 31 was the different day. THO can look like a stroke. It had affected the right side of her face and her ability to walk. Altho the walking improved greatly, the facial deficits remained the same-until today. This morning her lips drooped more and her right eye was starting to loose its sight. The bones that were broken inside of her jaw weren't healing in good places. They were pressing on muscles and nerves that affected her eye and mouth area. It was hard to work that day knowing that by my evening visit I would know for sure. By the evening her right eye was starting to sink into her head and was totally blind. Her lips still drooped. Walking was no different, she could still get around fine. She could still eat and drink and she spent more time laying down, resting. I spent the evening with her. It would be our last private time together, a time I'll always treasure.
Tuesday morning I called the new owner and said it was time. Zoe never made it to the new owners property and I was glad. A trailer ride in a trailer that she had an accident in when very young, combined with the ride thru the canyon didn't give me and obviously Zoe any comfort-because she would not get in the trailer. It must feel funny for a neurologic horse to get in a trailer-Zoe had just figured out how to make the ground/her legs/her balance work for her again and she was asked to get in a trailer that has an "unstable ground". She was not having any part of it. So the new owner didn't push it, I know with a healthy horse she would have gotten the horse in the trailer but with this one, she relented.
So the decision was made to put Zoe down on Saturday, Sept 5 in the gelding pasture at the barn. I could not be there, I had already said my "goodbyes". I had a flight to catch to Portland, a drive back home with grandkids, and a huge family gathering on Saturday. I put a trusted, level headed barn friend in charge of Zoe while I was gone-altho there was nothing special to do for her- and the new owner was in charge of putting her down. I'm told that she spent the rest of her days in peace, just being a horse in the pasture with the herd.
Listening for my dogs to say it's time to go was vastly different than listening for my horse to say it's time. I guess I've never had the partnership with my dogs that I've had with Zoe. In our house the dogs are usually my husband's pets, the dogs usually consider him first and me second. But I think it's my partnership with Zoe that made it so different. She takes care of me and I take care of her-it's like the original "I've got your back relationship" in animal form. Listening to each other, respecting each other is part of that relationship. I will always treasure the bond that the two of us had. I have many good memories to look back on. There are lessons I learned that I will take with me thru out my whole life. Her name is Greek, it means "life" and she will continue to live in my heart and life.
