Saturday, May 19, 2012

Letting Go

Letting go is so hard! On Thursday, Lucy and Foxy were euthanized. It wasn't due to an emergency like colic. It was a carefully thought out and planned date with sadness and regret. We regret having to do it, but in our hearts, we know it was the best choice. Foxy had DSLD - Degenerative Suspensory Ligament Disorder. It caused her hind pasterns to drop to a 45 degree angle, causing pain in her ankle, pasterns and hocks. Her joints were swollen and looked deformed. She spent a great deal of time laying down, walking away from her feed to find relief from the pain. She would never get any better. Pain meds masked the pain, but she never really found relief. She walked painfully slow and this last week, would rarely venture out of the barn because it was too far and painful to walk back for water and shade. It was time to release her from her pain and let her go. Lucy was mostly blind. She showed zero reaction in her right eye, and had deminished eyesight in her left eye. If she was out on pasture after dark, she would stand and call to her friends. More than once, I had to walk out to get her. This was the only time she would follow me, knowing somehow that I would lead her back to the barn. When I went into her stall or run and was anywhere near her, I had to talk constantly so she knew where I was. I NEVER put myself between her and "escape". She couldn't see me and I was in danger of getting run over should she react to horse eating monsters, real or perceived. While she was "bad", she became a danger to herself and to me. At 1200 pounds, the danger of being injured unintentionally was very real. It was time to let her go. Horses are sent to me. I am expected to feed, vet, and hold for the farrier. I clean stalls because I like the horses to live in a "clean" barn. Never, ever, has any owner expected me to love their horses or get attached to them. But I do. I fall in love with their unique personalities and little quirks. I brush and cuddle them. I take pictures and sign their praises as if they were my own. I share funny stories and pictures with their owners. And it hurts my heart to release them. It would be so much easier if they were put on a trailer to a new home, to be loved and cherished by a new owner or that special child. But they aren't. They are the tossed out, thrown away, heartlessly discarded that were saved by a loving heart and sent somewhere safe, if only for a few short months. As hard as it is to let go after becoming attached, the thought of turning my back without giving those few months of care and love is unthinkable. I give. I love. I let go. It's so hard. Rest in peace sweet Foxy. Your sweet gentle soul will be remembered always. Thank you for letting me love you. Rest in peace dear Lucy. I'm sorry for the cruelty of man. You tried so hard to be brave.

5 comments:

Nikker said...

Sorry for your losses, but so thankful for people like you who can offer these oldies a happy ending.

WishIHadAHorsey said...

I am so sorry! Bless you for the love you give them.

mrscravitz said...

Oh Karen! I am so very sorry! Take comfort in knowing they were loved and cared for by you, and that you gave them the best! My heart breaks and my eyes water for your loss!

GreyDrakkon said...

I'm glad they had that time with you, getting cared for so well.

Anonymous said...

Cathy posting anon because I can't find my password -

I will never have words to say how grateful I am for the love and great care that Karen provided to these two rescue horses. Lucy had almost four years out of the kill pen (July 2008) and Foxy would have been at two if she'd lasted a few more months (August 2010). Instead of dying in a Mexican slaughterhouse, these mares were fat and happy and had friends and grass and sunshine. I was able to do that for them because Karen has kept her prices affordable, while providing better care than I'd get at some of the priciest barns in the U.S. While it's always sad to put a horse to sleep, I know they had GREAT lives after they were rescued, and that's the goal.