As Manoir De Carneville arrives at her Maizey Manor Farm in the UK and the Canadian Team arrival is approaching, Jacky was kind enough to send us a post about saying goodbye to a friend. Jacky asked me to mention that this post is dedicated to Abba, her dressage horse and best friend who lost his own battle with laminitus recently. The below photo of Hucarlos is courtesy of Lisa. The post is a writing within a writing–take it away Jacky.
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From Jacky:
Any of us involved with horses knows that sometimes the hardest decision has to be made. It is never easy, it is never something taken lightly and sometimes the timing is crucial. For a horse that is in agony with colic, a horse that has an open fracture or some other trauma sometimes it is the only choice and its made very quickly because there is no other choice. Harder still is the older horse. When do we decide that the quality of life is simply not there? And if they have been a long term part of our lives it is even harder. Does pottering around a paddock really constitute a great quality of life for that champion who watches the horsebox leave without him every day? And hardest of all is the laminitic horse who looks healthy and well but whose broken feet are too painful to walk on. Once a disease primarily associated with ponies it is becoming more prevalent due to better grazing, weird weather, and the higher popularity of warmbloods into the sport. A typical TB will rarely succumb unless it is mechanical laminitus brought on by surgery but Cushings particularly affects warmbloods more readily and if the attacks become more frequent then long periods of box rest are inevitable. Saying goodbye is the hardest choice but I would like to share with you a message from a friend of mine who recently had to make that choice and I think it will give many people who are dithering the courage to make it themselves. From Lisa:
“Well it was the hardest thing I have ever done to say the last good bye and walk away. But we had a champagne celebration in his stable in the morning before hand, while we groomed him, plaited him, put on his show rug and competition bandages, painted his feet and made him feel like a champion again getting ready to go to a party. He was so happy, he had so many treats and his girls around him fussing over him and talking about the good days. Lots of tears and hugs, and laughs and cuddles. I did a display of his championship rosettes, medals, sashes, photos and framed grand prix winning test sheet. He ate polos and licked the rosettes and loved every minute. His 2 special grooms led him out to the sunny field and he marched out for the first time in months. Bandages off like before a test, then he grazed knee deep in grass for 5 mins, before he peacefully lay down and fell asleep in the sun with my wonderful vet holding his head so it was gentle and smooth. He deserved this. A beautiful and fitting end to the life of the most generous, loyal and perfect horse that will ever be.
I was parked down the road crying, but the sun came out and I felt him go, I felt him leave us and I knew, and later the girls said that was the moment. I felt a peaceful calm come over me, and a relief that I do not need to worry any more about my best friend. I knew he was at last at peace, free of pain, and I no longer would worry he was lonely or felt left out and forgotten. He was a champion again at the end and he left this life proud and excited. We could not have done it in a more fitting way. So I must find strength in that when I miss him. We went home and E and E came back to mine and we drank a bottle of NZ wine, Saumur bubbles and Spanish white to remember the parties and celebrations round the world that we had because of him.
He is at peace, we are at peace.”
