Exactly a year ago today I was told by Flash’s vet that it was time to consider euthanasia.
Being the nostalgic, time/ date memorizer individual that I am (see my previous post “Nostalgia”), all I could think about today was what happened last year on this day…
It was a cold morning, snowing heavily. The vet was conducting a follow up examination. I’d been feeding Flash grain twice a day in the hopes of him gaining weight, but to no avail. It didn’t matter how much I gave him; he’d only put on a few pounds, but it was not enough. His ribs and hip bones were clearly visible, a far cry from the fat, sleek pony I’d grown up with.
It’s strange, how the human mind can almost selectively shut out, block, deflect, or anticipate bad news. I think I knew, deep down, what her assessment of my horse was going to be. But the mind stuffed it away, so I went about haltering Flash, and leading him into the indoor wash rack, to be out of the snow.
The vet took his off his blanket, and took one good long look. Flash, ever the people pony, loved his vet, and gently nudged her with his nose. She smiled, patted Flash and walked around him. “If you haven’t already fed him yet, go ahead and grab his feed and we’ll talk.”
I went to the grain storage room and filled up his flat bucket. I remember consciously stalling, deliberately taking longer than normal to fill the bucket. But even then, no clear, conscious thought came to my mind. But I felt dread brewing within my body.
Back in the barn, Flash set upon his food immediately, happily making a mess as he always did. A giant lump had taken residence in my throat.
The vet gave a sad smile, and put her hands in her jacket pockets. I don’t remember her exact words, but they were something like this: “Well, based on the frequency and amount you’re feeding Flash, he should be easily gaining, but he hasn’t. He looks about the same. So it’s time that we consider that option…the time to say goodbye, to have him avoid any pain or incidents.”
Already I felt like I was strangling; I knew damn well what she meant. “I-I know,” I croaked out, nodding as the tears, hot and fast, came streaming down my face. The vet then looked directly into my eyes, and I remember how much compassion and sadness I saw there.
“His condition…there hasn’t been any lack of trying on your part, not at all. You’ve done everything you can to help him, but in the end he’s not going to improve. And we don’t want him to get to the point where he’ll be so weak and helpless that something bad happens to him, and he can’t help himself. He’s just old, and there’s no cure for that.”
I could barely speak, I was crying so hard. My body was shaking. I could feel and hear the blood rushing through my ears and my head; my heart slammed against my chest.
“Flash may be 28, but in human years he’s 94. So he’s had a long, happy life and that’s what counts. And he deserves to go out with dignity and in peace.”
I was practically hyperventilating at this point. The vet’s assistant was trying her best not to cry, and kept her gaze on the floor, though she kept patting Flash on his neck.
“It doesn’t have to be today,” my vet said, gently taking me by the arm. I nodded, utterly relieved. I wanted—needed—time to say goodbye, to prepare myself.
“H-h-how m-much l-longer do I-I have?” I stuttered out. The vet looked me directly in the eye.
“No longer than two months.”
****
Two months. The rest of May, of course, then June, then July. July. That’s when…my mind whirled.
It’s truly bizarre, how we discussed Flash’s eventual death and means of it, as he contentedly munched away, oblivious.
“He may be physically declining, but his disposition is the same as ever. He looks happy to me…and he certainly hasn’t lost his appetite!” my vet exclaimed, and the three of us all managed a laugh.
“This is the way you want to remember him, as he is. No one wants to say goodbye, but one shouldn’t wait too long, for if something happens…that’s the last memory you’ll have.”
I agreed with everything the vet told me, and accepted it. It hurt, my heart throbbed, but I knew she was right. I’ve heard stories of people being angry or indignant when euthanasia is suggested by their vet. I didn’t feel any of those emotions at all. I just felt…tragic. Defeated.
Somehow, I’m surprised I even mentioned it then and there, but I asked about burial options. My voice was low and flat. The vet gave me three options, and estimates for each: pasture burial somewhere in eastern CO, cremation, or burial up in the mountains by Evergreen. I immediately noted she did not mention the highly upsetting option of rendering, which is basically when a horse’s corpse is used for pet food. Not that there’s any meat on my horse, was my dark, twisted thought. It didn’t hit me until later that rendering would be unfeasible anyway, given the chemicals used in euthanasia.
***
The follow-up lasted about a half hour. I noticed how, as we all talked, other riders ducked their heads whenever they passed us; they knew what we were talking about. I don’t blame them. No one wants to hear, much less stick around, listening about euthanasia. As any animal lover knows, you don’t want to ever have to think about it.
The vet gave me the biggest hug before she left. “In the time being, he can have absolutely whatever he wants. Spoil him rotten!” was her parting advice. I agreed wholeheartedly.
And last summer, that is exactly what I did.
***
Once the vet and her assistant had driven off, I let Flash finish the rest of his feed. I felt dazed, while sobs shook my body. I hugged him before I put him back in his pasture. I found it nearly impossible to leave him. I walked back home in the snow. I burst into tears again when I told my parents the news. My mom promptly started crying, and my dad looked grim. I told them exactly what the vet had said, and they sadly agreed too. Together, we vowed to make Flash’s last summer on earth the best. And I am so pleased to say that we accomplished that.
As summer approaches ever closer, I know I’m only going to become more nostalgic, which is completely normal. Last summer I spent every single day with Flash. For whole days I was at the barn. I miss that. I miss Flash. But as I’ve said before, I know he is at peace. I feel it in my very being. And this knowledge, along with writing, this will sustain me once July swings around. If you catch me gazing into space, a faraway look in my eyes…I’m thinking, seeing, my beloved horse.
~LMC