The Long Slow Build To Euthanasia Part 4

It's been three weeks since Brat got his Osphos injection, and two weeks after starting back on Previcox. The ground is drying up, despite the frequent rainy days. And in the last week spring has reached the tipping point as things begin to grow again.

Last week green started to appear in the fields of dry, brown grass. Seemingly overnight they turned more green than brown.  A few days ago I spotted the first pale green fuzz of new leaves on the willow trees that I drive past on my way to the barn. A couple of days ago there were a few more trees waving tiny green leaves in the woods along the road. In past years this was the time Brat's winter trace clip changed colour as the dark summer coat grew through the pale clipped areas.  I haven't clipped him in the last two winters as he hasn't been working hard enough to need it.  I kind of miss watching the clipped maple leaves on his shoulders disappear. 

We have had more very warm days than cold in the last week and Brat's breath rate has been higher than it should be. His lungs sound all right, leading me to conclude that he's just been too warm. So today I gave him an apron clip. I'll do more if necessary. I want him to be comfortable.

Comfortable and happy. The next six months may be all we have left.  While I hold that tiny hope for more, I don't want to miss out on what time we do have. The grass is growing, and I have started taking Brat out for a walk and half hour graze. I hope to take him out to graze every day (with as few exceptions as possible) during the next six months. Today we got wet.  I'm sure it won't be the last day we're standing in the rain while he picks out the best bits of green.

The Long Slow Build To Euthanasia - Part 1

I'm down to one horse now.  My third horse is the last of the four horses I have owned.  He's 27 this year, and the last couple of years have had some health challenges in addition to his long term issues of heaves, PSSM and PPID (aka Cushings).  These three are still well managed through a precarious balancing act of care, but it won't take much to bring the whole thing down. 

I started this blog years ago to provide some insight around making the decision to euthanize my horse, hoping that people who needed it would find some support as it wasn't something widely discussed at the time.  There is more discussion around quality of life these days.  There are also many more veterinary options for care, resulting in many more questions about how much we should do, and when should we say enough. It's not a decision made in a short period of time. Considering the factors, options, the individual horse, and our own situation occurs over a long period of time.  Barring some catastrophic emergency, the decision to euthanize builds slowly over weeks, or months, or sometimes years.

This is the first of several posts looking at that slow build.

Here I am again. It is spring, and I'm evaluating how my senior horse handled the winter. We have real winter here - snow, ice, and freezing temperatures for months. This creates problems for horses with mobility, strength, and balance issues. Brat has several mobility concerns.

On September 30, 2022 Brat injured his stifle. He spent the winter healing and was doing very well when we got over an inch of rain in one weekend late April 2023.  The rain turned the spring mud to sucking mud, and Brat tweaked his stifle again. Over the next year he went through periods of healing and setbacks, not helped by a series of abscesses that followed a bout of cellulitis. I couldn't tell if the lameness was caused by the stifle or an abscess.

In the summer of 2024, between abscesses, he was close to sound. I realized that he was less sound on days where the footing was a little slippery. After consulting with the vet, we decided that this was probably as good as the stifle was going to get, and some strengthening work would benefit.  Brat was feeling good as he happily went out for walking with a little bit of trot trail rides. It was during those rides that I noticed he was dragging his left front toe as he swung that foot forward. He was losing some range of motion in the left knee.

Xrays showed some very minor arthritis of the sort one would expect a 26 year old horse to have. The vet recommended Osphos as a whole body arthritis treatment as an alternative to just injecting the knee.  After doing some research I opted to try it.  Osphos takes a month to show effects, and it can be done every six months.  Brat got his Osphos injection in early August, and in September I felt he was more comfortable.  He did well through the fall, but in the new year I thought he was losing the benefit.

Five months out of something that can be done every six months, and takes a month to take effect seemed like a questionable benefit.  I talked to the vet about alternatives and ended up trialing an oral joint supplement for six weeks. I didn't see any benefits, and in the third week Brat walked away from me in the paddock twice. He usually comes unless the footing is bad or he's not feeling good, in which case he stands and waits for me to go to him.

Exercise is a critical part of the management for Brat's PSSM and heaves. He wasn't really interested in going for exercise walks, and I had to give a lot of encouragement to keep him moving at a reasonable pace. He was increasingly uncomfortable about picking up his hind feet, and standing in the barn - symptoms I had blamed on constant abscesses last spring. Now I begin to consider if perhaps it was, and is, the stifle.

Snow, ice and mud are not particularly stable footing. As last fall's rides showed, he is more uncomfortable when he must stabilize his feet with his body - specifically the fragile stifle.  I noticed increasing trouble in January, three months ago.  April is typically varying degrees of muddy, making a total of four months with a noticeable degree of pain. There will be mud, ice and snow again in the fall. The question looms large. Have we reached the end of the line?

When do you know it’s time? The toughest decision of all

It's a subject that has come up recently on a couple of different horse bulletin boards that I frequent.  I had to make the euthanasia decision for my first horse and I thought a lot about it afterwards.  The questions and self doubt don't stop just because the horse is gone.  Our society tends to not talk about such things, and unless you're close to someone who's had to go through it, the average person really is on their own the first time. It's too easy to second guess ourselves and listen to people who "ought to know" that first time. There is a culture of trying to help preserve life and the automatic reaction of others is "it can't be that bad" and "have you tried such and such?" and in our inexperience we wait, or try something else.  Over time as I shared my experience the knowledge was distilled into three key ideas, with a few extra bits of advice.  I wrote it down and edited it over time, and when my second horse approached the end I came back to these lessons that my first horse taught me.  For this reason I now include the revised version in my second horse's blog.

I want to let my friends go on before they are enduring existence. Before every bone is showing. Before the depression or drug stupor takes over their life. Before they spend grinding weeks suffering pain and discomfort. I want them to leave knowing the sun on their bodies, the breath of warm air in their lungs, the half dance step of delight at going out or meeting up with a buddy. Knowing that I love them.


We all secretly want to walk out in the field one day (far in the future) and find our beloved equine flat out and already gone, but realistically that's not going to happen for most of us. We're going to have to make the hard decision. Long before I had my own horse those stories printed in the horse magazines about the heroic efforts people made to prolong the life of their aged equine, and the description of their descent and ultimate hanging-on-by-a-thread condition before the owner had the guts to admit that it was time to let go always made me sad and angry (for the horse's sake). I felt it was cruel to prolong a life with no real hope of recovery or any quality, and promised my first horse (when I bought him) that when it was his time I would give him the last summer and then let him go.

First of all - this is the biggest one - TRUST YOURSELF! YOU know your horse better than anyone else, YOU can see the little things sooner, better than ANYONE else in the world. Don't close your eyes; look, track, judge every single day you see your horse. What defines your horse's personality and characterizes your interactions? Watch for the slightest changes - not once, but if they are growing more frequent or worse, or you realize that X has become the new 'norm' it is up to you to work out why and what you can do to help.

Second - be real for your horse's sake. If she/he is not comfortable for any period and the vet offers something, be direct and upfront and ask the hard questions. Will it improve back to where it was? Will this treatment heal the problem? Will it just mask the problem? Will it create more problems? Will this be an ongoing always treatment? Can I afford it? Then go away and face the answers. Do you just want to prolong your horse's life because "I'm not ready yet"? Believe me, you never will be. Are you improving the quality of his/her life, or just increasing the time spent suffering?

One of my second horse's final gifts came to me about a month before he was euthanized in October 2009. The euthanasia had been generally planned for several months, and I was doing the usual agonizing even though I knew without a doubt it was the right time (thank you first horse).  I finally realized that while the answer to the question "could I keep him going through another winter or several?" is a definite yes, that is the wrong question. The real question needs to be "Should I?" and to that question I must reluctantly answer "no". He definitely deserves better than being forced to endure life simply because I'm not ready to let him go. I never will be ready.

Third - look for and project the factors that make your horse less comfortable. In my case my first horse had two months where he wasn't doing well in his last spring. Factors - weather, temperature. Projection - autumn, spring, even a warm spell during the winter. Two months is an awfully long time especially if you can see it is likely to repeat too often.

A good relationship with your vet is a real help. Mine simply asked me "Are you sure?" when I made the appointment for my first horse, and that was it. Six months later he told me that he doesn't like euthanasia and even tries to find new homes for animals if he doesn't feel they need it - but when I said it was time, he had no doubt that I did know. You don't want to be arguing with your vet at this time.

Close your ears to all your well-meaning friends who can't believe you are doing it and did you try such and such - you know your horse, you ARE right. You will question yourself every day, but keep going back to the first thing.

Make the necessary plans early - whether you are going to go spoil your horse, stuff him full of carrots and then go away, leaving him tied to the wash rack before the vet comes, or stay through the whole ordeal (or anything in between) you won't be able to do anything else on the day.

We cannot control our horses’ environments the same way we can for our small housepets. Dogs and cats can be kept in a warm environment, with limited forays into the cold. We can medicate them more easily and frequently. We can feed them special diets more easily. Horses by their very size and nature limit how much we can do for them. These limitations must be acknowledged and accepted when we decide on treatments for our horses’ ailments.

One Year Later

One year ago today the vet came and euthanized my second horse.  It's a sad anniversary made all the more sad by the loss of a friend four days ago.  She was young, and one of those people who were full of life and managed to poke fun at any situation.  Taken too soon by a careless driver, she leaves a husband and young son behind.

It was my horse's time to go last year, but he was robbed of time by whatever accident caused that chipped bone in his hock.  My friend should have had many more years with her family and friends.  Time taken away from her by another person's poor decisions.  That the other person died too is no consolation.

My uncle died five days ago.  He lived a long life, surrounded by family and many friends.  Another person full of the joy of life with a grand sense of humour.  He will be missed just as much, but there is a sort of peace or conclusion that is lacking in the death of my friend.

Death is an inevitable part of life.  But sometimes it seems to come too soon and we struggle to come to terms with the loss, and grieve for what will never be.

Two weeks

Two weeks from today will be one year without my horse.  He's been on my mind a lot lately.  I'm remembering last fall and the sight of the trees changing colours, losing their leaves, the grass fading all brings back the sadness of those last days.  I have no regrets.  Not about helping him go, nor about the time we had together.  No regrets about buying him.  He taught me a lot in our years together.  I'm glad we had that time.

Memories of my Friend

I can't believe it's September again already. Those few trees that always start to change colour weeks before the rest are going yellow and orange and red. It was about this time last year that I made the decision to let my horse go before the winter. Telling the barn owners was tough - that was the first time I'd shared my decision with anyone.

My horse has been on my mind a great deal lately. I finally managed to start the little 8"x8" memory scrapbook for him at the end of June. It's almost done, only two more pages to go. Some of the pages are okay, but others turned out really well with the colours just coming together with the photos beautifully. The whole book will have a total of 40 pages, bigger than I'd planned, but it's what I needed to have. Many of the pages have one 5x7 photo, some have a mosaic of small images covering the whole page.

One page is a mosaic of shots of him looking at me as I went to get him out of the field. He had a distinctive way of turning to look with both eyes, ears up and poll slightly below wither level. It wasn't at all a dull look as one might expect from the low head position, nor was it suspicious, but rather a bright eyed and interested expression. The pics are various sizes and cover the full range of our life together.

There's a two page spread for his dressage career. Those are two of the pages that turned out beautifully. The colours are just perfect, and really pull the four photos together. I deliberately chose to keep the scrapbooking design very simple to keep the focus on the photos and journaling. The embellishments are limited to some fancy edged matts and a few very simple stickers. The colour palette was mostly greens, blues and browns with some yellow (mostly accents). I did get a couple of purple pages and one orange (with browns) but no red. I never thought of red for this horse, it just wasn't him.

.

Overall I'm quite pleased with the result. It's full of the little tidbits about his character and characteristics that made him an individual, along with the odd incidents from our life together.

It Is Almost Time

Almost time to start putting together his scrapbook - the little one answering the question "Who was he?" I went through the hundreds of photos from our years together and pulled out many that I thought I might use. In the last week or two I've gone through those stacks again and again, trying to thin them out, to choose only those photos that show him the way he was.

I did try out the photolab's collage software about a month ago. I took a lot of the close up photos and a few "normal" pictures of him and put together an 8x10" collage. I found the software limiting in some ways, but the result is quite nice. I arranged for it to be laminated and just got it back last week (some difficulties with a new transport company caused quite a delay). It's really nice and will go up on my wall shortly.

.

I almost cleaned his halter the other night too. Eight months later and I'm almost at the point of being able to put his memorials together. Time heals, and healing must not be rushed.

The Little Things

It's the little things I miss the most. The way he'd pop his head up and look when he heard my voice, or his very distinctive whinny. Little incidents that showed his character.

Recently I remembered being out in the field with him one spring - memory says it was the first or second spring we were together, but I couldn't find it in my journal entries. I had taken a shedding blade out to do some spring cleaning on the boys. My QH was very nosey about the shedding blade and kept turning his head to see what I was doing. I held the blade out to him and he sniffed it and then gently took hold and lifted it out of my hand. After waving it around a bit he dropped it and turned his head back to me. I don't remember exactly what I said, but the gist was an offended "Hey! Pick that up and give it back to me!"... and he did just that!

Special Delivery

I had heard of horsehair pottery and somehow imagined pots with horsehair embedded in the glaze on the pot's surface. I couldn't figure out how this could be done as glaze is fired at a high temperature and hair burns very easily. Once I started following links to horsehair pottery sites I quickly discovered that the ease of burning hair is the major part of the process. The hair is applied to a piece fresh from firing and as the hairs burn some carbon and ash are absorbed by the pottery leaving black lines and smoky areas unique to that item.
.
After spending a fair bit of time searching for horsehair jewelry sites, and following links to various horsehair pottery sites on the internet I found Donovan Designs. In addition to the usual pots, vases and bowls Denise has various statues in her catalogue one of which is a Quarterhorse bust (head and neck). This looked sufficiently like my horse that I sent her an email and asked about the possibility of having my horse's markings painted on one if I sent photos with my order. Denise responded quickly that she would be happy to do so at no extra cost. I scrounged up some photos (lip spot photos were difficult to find), carefully pulled about thirty hairs from his tail bundle and mailed them off to Denise.
.
At the end of last week I received an email from Denise to let me know she was almost finished and expected to ship my order out on Monday. I was excited and even though I knew it would take time to arrive I hopefully looked for a package notice on Tuesday after I saw a postal truck as I was nearing home. The box arrived yesterday and I could hardly wait to get it inside and see the result. Denise did a beautiful job and packaged the piece up securely to ensure that it would arrive safely.
.
I cleared a space on my bookshelf immediately, but ended up carrying it around and setting up close at hand to whatever I was doing for the rest of the afternoon and evening just so I could glance up and admire it at any moment. The photo doesn't do it justice at all.
.
Denise gave me permission to include a link to Donovan Designs website so here it is:
http://www.myhorseart.com

The Spirit That Was My Horse

It's been a month now. The hole is filling with memories of life and I find myself drawing him back by telling people what he used to do, what he was like. Some of us were talking about our horses reactions when we go out in the field - variations on walking or turning away until we get close and then turning to us as if surprised to see us there. My boy used to watch for me at night and his distinctive whinny would come out of the darkness when he saw me take my other horse back out to a different field. As if to remind me not to forget to come down and bring him up for his dinner.

.

I remember more details. Things to remember for next time, for sure as I loved him I will be making the decision again for other horses. His issue caused him well hidden pain for a very long time, even before we identified the problem. His subconcious, instincts told him that a lame horse was vulnerable and I used to call him my quarter horse, three quarter chicken because he was such a chicken. I wanted him to know that this pain and the fear it caused did not define who he was. The pain and fear must be left behind. He should take his great courage and generosity for these defined the spirit that was my horse.

.

I still miss him dearly, but the great gaping sense of loss has eased and I now remember him in life before death.

Inheritance and memory

I brought my yearling in yesterday for some training and grooming. I managed to go through my old horse's grooming kit and sort it out so I could use it for my yearling's stuff. He inherited some items from my old horse, and I put the few items he already had into the box.

I felt a bit weird bringing the box out to the crossties - somehow the box still isn't my yearling's kit yet. I still look at it and think of it as belonging to my old horse.

Dawnfire

This morning I looked into the field and saw one of the other chestnuts at the hay feeder. He was standing broadside to me, had the same colour blanket that my old horse did, and his head mostly in the hay. The early morning sun slanted across the field and fired a wide golden highlight along the crest of his neck. For a moment, just a moment he looked like my horse as that golden highlight looked like my horse's mane the way it was always neatly arranged along the left side of his neck. I knew it wasn't my horse, but the shape and colour just vividly brought my horse back to mind instantly.

Tidying up

.
It's been well over a week, and while most things have returned to normal there are still some tidying up jobs that I need to do. I think about them almost every day I am at the barn.
.
His bridle is still hanging up on a hook. His grooming kit is still in my locker. His rainsheet still in the trunk of my car. I need to go through my stuff and decide what to do with his things, clean and store the ones I won't be using for a while, and give away, sell or chuck out the rest.
.
I can't face them yet. I can look past his things without feeling his loss fresh, but I think the act of going through them will be difficult. I need a little more time first.

Who was he?

Almost no one knows who my first horse was now. I think about that, and then I think about my second horse and how I could answer the question "Who was Tommy?"

There are many answers. He was a sorrel American Quarter Horse. He was my first greenbroke horse. He was the horse with whom I entered the dressage arena for the first time - the horse that started my love of dressage. He was the horse with whom I entered the Hunter rings and learned about the hunter/jumper discipline. I wanted to try eventing with him, but his hock issue prevented that from occuring. He was the accident prone horse who came up with so many varied injuries that I became competent in recognizing and treating a wide range of issues - and knowing when to call the vet. He was the horse who kept me going out to the farm after my first horse was euthanized. He was the horse that nickered to me when I called him. He was the horse who was guinea pig for my various trials in keeping an active competition horse on pasture board. He was the horse who taught me about the importance of saddle fit as he showed white hairs from pressure spots very quickly. He was the horse that showed me what true courage was all about. He was the horse who looked after my friends when they rode him. He was my goto horse for teaching people about lateral work. He was lazy enough to not argue with a rider who was determined, but also lazy enough to give the minimum asked for. He was a worrier. He was generous. He was a great heart. He was a trier, willing to try anything if I asked it of him.

He was my student. He was my teacher. He was my partner.

Most of all he was my friend and I am richer for having had him in my life, and poorer for having lost him.

Remembering and Healing

After my first horse was euthanized I took his bridle home and dragged it about from residence to residence for several years before I finally figured out what to do with it. I always knew exactly where it was - it was never left in a box. I knew I wanted the bridle on display but it took me a long time before I worked out how to manage it. I ended up putting it in a shadow box with a laminate mounted photo, a lock of mane, a feather I'd found out hacking one day, a horse shoe and a couple of engraved plates - one with his name and dates, the other with the final verse of the poem I'd written for him.

.

I know I want to make a shadow box for this horse too. I have his tail and his halter. I will get a plate with his name, registration number and dates done. The photo is, as it was the first time, the most difficult task of all. Going through all the photos I can find to see which would be the best choice to put into the box. It brings back many memories of the days we shared and I think about some of the photos I really liked and go looking for them. Maybe that one? No, it's not quite right - the pose, or perhaps a cluttered background. Do I want a head shot or a full body picture? I chose a full body shot of my first horse - one that I took the day before the vet came. He was a difficult horse to photograph, but I got better at taking good pictures of him over time.

.

My second horse was quite photogenic and I have lots of good photos of him. Very few photos good or bad from our competitions - somehow the show photographer was always at another ring whenever we were on. I haven't yet found the photo I want, but I have time. There is no hurry to get the shadow box finished as it is a part of the healing process.

Saying Thanks

Friday was just about normal and yesterday pretty good as well. I did carve my horse on a pumpkin and it turned out not too badly.
.
I spent a part of the evening making thank you cards for the few people who helped me out on Monday. That was difficult. Between trying to find the words to express how much their support meant to me, and not being able to set the memories of Monday aside there were a lot of tears again. But it was something I needed to do sooner than later.

You Were Well Loved.

It seems like yesterday. It seems like forever

That we met, that we have been together.

The times that we shared, the lessons we learned

From one, from the other, that shape who we are now,

We carry forward on our separate ways into the future.

.

I can no more force enduring life upon you

Than I can ask you to endure a life of pain

Because I am not ready to see you go.

I am not ready. I will never be ready.

And so I give you the last gift I have to give.

.

With human logic and power of reasoning

I can see the time to help you go is now.

I can help you pass in peace with dignity

Sending my wishes that your next wheel

Brings good fortune denied upon this turn.

.

And when you stand before our maker

Present my heartfelt thanks for the time we shared, you and I.

When you speak of the life you just lived

Stand tall, stand proud and know with certainty

You were well loved. You will be missed.

The Power of a Grazing Horse

Today was harder than yesterday. I kept falling into the hole and finding the memory of his last moments. My eyes are burning.

Maybe being tired contributed, but I went to bed late for fear of waking at two am again and lying sleepless for hours. I slept well last night - if not long enough. Before I went to sleep I took the video camera and watched the silly video I shot in the last couple of weeks. My horse eating his grain. My horse drinking. My horse walking out into his pasture. My horse grazing. It was this last one that settled my mind and let me relax into sleep. Watching him graze and hearing the rip of grass and munching really must be as good as stroking a cat.

Tears came again when I got home and found a sympathy card from the vet and clinic staff. Maybe it's standard operating procedure, but it still shows they do care and it means a lot to me that someone took the time to write in the card and send it off.

My friends have emailed and called, and their support helps too. I can't talk about it yet without losing my voice, but just knowing they're there once I can talk is comforting.

In thinking so much about him I find that I have not one regret in our last days together. Nor do I feel any doubt that it was the right time to help him go. I am glad I took the silly videos and took far too many photos of not much. I do have some old video from his competition days, but I don't find myself wanting to watch it yet. I want to watch the video of him grazing.

Waiting for Time

It's not over for me. My horse is free of the pain that has been his close companion for the past years, but I'm still walking carefully around the edges of the hole in my heart and keep falling into it at unexpected moments. Tears burn the raw skin on my face. I don't know how many times I fell into that hole today.

I managed to walk past the place he went down several times without noticing, but the last time I went and stopped near the scars his hooves made in the grass, remembered and allowed the tears to come.

Compulsively checking his field for him has been a part of my mornings for the last months - today I looked away.

I find myself managing to get on with things and lose myself in tasks. I even managed to ride without slipping into the hole. Then I start thinking of things I need to do, and I come round to thanking those who helped me yesterday and before I know it the tears are falling again.

I have no doubt that I let him go at the right time. There are no more questions about it. Now is waiting for time to heal. For time to let the hole fill with memories and bury the raw wound of yesterday. For time that will allow the first memories to be of his life and not of his death.

Time to go

I went out really early this morning. I brought him up to the barn and groomed him before taking him out to graze. When I took his blanket off I had to think about what I ought to do with it so I wouldn't have to think about it later.

We had a good long time out in the field. At first all I could think about was the future. It occured to me after a bit that hand grazing a horse must be like stroking a cat for horsepeople - it's very calming. After a time I started remembering pieces of our past and then deliberately went searching for more memories from our earliest years and all through our fifteen years together. The tears went as I leaned against him and wandered through memory.

I talked to him a little bit. About the lessons he'd taught me, the good times we had, and that he should hold to his incredible courage and knowledge that I love him when he goes. But mostly I just watched him eat and let the memories come.

The vet was later than expected, but I am glad we had that extra time to go through the future and come back to the past. When I saw the vet's truck coming up the road I said to my horse "Come on. It's time to go."

He was ready. He didn't fight the drugs at all, and I stayed with him telling him that he could let go of the pain, he should go on now, and that I loved him.