The end of the too-short story.
Well, its been over a week now and I think I'm finally ready to write about this. Its taken me a bit to collect myself, and a beautifully thoughtful gift given to me in Angus' honor did the trick of helping me write down the final chapter in his life.
So here goes.
Angus passed away August 1st in the middle of the afternoon. I should have seen the signs earlier, and maybe I did the very first day he was here, but I just couldn't see the forest for the trees. It was very apparent there was a problem a few days after we brought him back from the dentist. He was starting to really eat well but was still sore from what I thought was the fight with the trailer and his general lack of muscling. His back legs were stocking up during the day. The swelling seemed to go down a bit at night, and I thought it was just from him standing in his corral most of the day, and I let it go at that. After a few more days though it was obvious that something was wrong. He stopped eating and threw a pretty decently high temperature. I thought at first that maybe he had another infection, possibly linked to the abscess he had before. We called the vet and he said he could be out by Friday, but if things got worse to call him and he would ask another vet-friend to come our way. Some Banamine and Bute later, Angus was more comfortable and I was looking forward to making it though Thursday and seeing the vet on Friday afternoon.
Thursday came and his temperature only got higher, with Angus beginning to refuse to walk anywhere, let alone the short distance to the water spout to have his legs hosed with cold water to help the swelling. By Thursday evening he had laid down and didn't want to get up, his temp was at 104 degrees and I called the vet. His friend and fellow vet Dr. Tom happened to be 20 minutes away and came right over. We hemmed and hawed over what it could be, determining that some steroids and antibiotics could help and we took a blood sample for testing, with the results being available first thing in the morning. Another good dose of Banamine for the evening, and I crossed my fingers and hoped we'd have some answers soon.
That Friday morning Angus greeted me standing up with ears perked. I fed him and hosed his legs some and walked him around his corral, making plans for multiple hosing and meds throughout the day. After about an hour though, Angus had decided he was done. He stopped walking, period. I left him where he stood, gave him some hay and thought he just needed a chance to rest. I fed Hero his grain and Angus, hearing the sounds of grain and buckets, perked up again and slowly walked over to me to get his share. I gave him some, but he barely mouthed it, seeming to forget what he had wanted as soon as he got it. It was then that I knew we were down to the end.
A few hours later the vet called and let me know the test results were back. Angus was experiencing severe kidney failure. The best we can speculate is that when he was starved, his body pulled nutrients first from his muscles, and then from his organs. Once we got his feet back in shape and his teeth done he had started to eat better and put nutrients back into his system, but by then it was too late and his organs couldn't handle it enough for him to be able to recover. His kidneys had to have been seriously bad as early as the day he arrived at our place- I had mentioned even then that I thought it was odd that Angus urinated so often and drank so much water, the hot summer notwithstanding. No other horse I had even known had done that before. I saw it coming, I just didn't recognize the sign early enough, and even if I had known, there was nothing we could do.
We made plans to euthanize him that evening, but his body couldn't wait that long and he died that afternoon. Angela and I were with him and we did everything we could to make his passing as calm as we could. Everyone was shocked he went that fast, but I was somewhat prepared for it. I had seen it coming that morning. I remember now how he just stood there, with his face in the cool morning breeze, his nose in the air. I patted him and told him it was ok to go home, and that I understood, and that we all understood and we had tried our best. I only hope he knew how much we wanted to help him and how much he was loved while he was here.
So here goes.
Angus passed away August 1st in the middle of the afternoon. I should have seen the signs earlier, and maybe I did the very first day he was here, but I just couldn't see the forest for the trees. It was very apparent there was a problem a few days after we brought him back from the dentist. He was starting to really eat well but was still sore from what I thought was the fight with the trailer and his general lack of muscling. His back legs were stocking up during the day. The swelling seemed to go down a bit at night, and I thought it was just from him standing in his corral most of the day, and I let it go at that. After a few more days though it was obvious that something was wrong. He stopped eating and threw a pretty decently high temperature. I thought at first that maybe he had another infection, possibly linked to the abscess he had before. We called the vet and he said he could be out by Friday, but if things got worse to call him and he would ask another vet-friend to come our way. Some Banamine and Bute later, Angus was more comfortable and I was looking forward to making it though Thursday and seeing the vet on Friday afternoon.
Thursday came and his temperature only got higher, with Angus beginning to refuse to walk anywhere, let alone the short distance to the water spout to have his legs hosed with cold water to help the swelling. By Thursday evening he had laid down and didn't want to get up, his temp was at 104 degrees and I called the vet. His friend and fellow vet Dr. Tom happened to be 20 minutes away and came right over. We hemmed and hawed over what it could be, determining that some steroids and antibiotics could help and we took a blood sample for testing, with the results being available first thing in the morning. Another good dose of Banamine for the evening, and I crossed my fingers and hoped we'd have some answers soon.
That Friday morning Angus greeted me standing up with ears perked. I fed him and hosed his legs some and walked him around his corral, making plans for multiple hosing and meds throughout the day. After about an hour though, Angus had decided he was done. He stopped walking, period. I left him where he stood, gave him some hay and thought he just needed a chance to rest. I fed Hero his grain and Angus, hearing the sounds of grain and buckets, perked up again and slowly walked over to me to get his share. I gave him some, but he barely mouthed it, seeming to forget what he had wanted as soon as he got it. It was then that I knew we were down to the end.
A few hours later the vet called and let me know the test results were back. Angus was experiencing severe kidney failure. The best we can speculate is that when he was starved, his body pulled nutrients first from his muscles, and then from his organs. Once we got his feet back in shape and his teeth done he had started to eat better and put nutrients back into his system, but by then it was too late and his organs couldn't handle it enough for him to be able to recover. His kidneys had to have been seriously bad as early as the day he arrived at our place- I had mentioned even then that I thought it was odd that Angus urinated so often and drank so much water, the hot summer notwithstanding. No other horse I had even known had done that before. I saw it coming, I just didn't recognize the sign early enough, and even if I had known, there was nothing we could do.
We made plans to euthanize him that evening, but his body couldn't wait that long and he died that afternoon. Angela and I were with him and we did everything we could to make his passing as calm as we could. Everyone was shocked he went that fast, but I was somewhat prepared for it. I had seen it coming that morning. I remember now how he just stood there, with his face in the cool morning breeze, his nose in the air. I patted him and told him it was ok to go home, and that I understood, and that we all understood and we had tried our best. I only hope he knew how much we wanted to help him and how much he was loved while he was here.
So complex is the human spirit that it can itself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it to action.
- The White Company
It seems strange that a horse I've only know for two months and two weeks could have such a huge impact on not only me, but on lots of people around me. From folks who met him in person to those who only saw him in pictures online, he had quite the following. I had over 70 messages with condolences and phone calls throughout that weekend after his passing. My friends are a generally animal-loving sort, but this seemed much more. Oddly enough, even my dog liked him and knew how important he was. Sydney sat by Angus' body the rest of that day, running off other curious creatures and generally keeping watch, throughout the night too (I know. I checked.)
What was it that made Angus so dear to us? Was it just his huge size? He is a rarity; Draft horses are not as common as they were years ago. His coloring? He really did resemble the horse from the movie Brave. Or was it the stark reality of his physical condition? Whether by abuse or by disease, his starvation was startling to see. Coping with my anger towards his prior owners, however many back this problem started, plus the fact that there are many people out there who would have either walked right past him without a second thought or simply been unwilling to try to help him; those will be issues I'll be working through for some time. Rehabilitating Angus was a pretty far shot even from the start, but at what point, when we as humans are faced with such a situation, do we make the decision to try? To hope? Not every animal can be saved, nor should be saved, but what we do in a situation when we can try to save one defines us. Its the outward sign of our inward beliefs, and apparently my strongest belief is in the power of hope.
We were unemployed when we took in Angus, but things just kept falling into place with his care; from having knowledgeable friends, a great supportive family, Joe getting a new job, even to meeting a handful of excellent vets. It was a strange situation from the beginning, and we had much too short a time with Angus in my opinion, but it was all necessary. It was all worth it, even the tears afterwards. It didn't teach me as much as remind me of who I am, what I know, and most importantly, what I believe.
So if on one hand the question is when do we try, then the other is when do we give up? In Angus' case, he never gave up. His body, his huge shell of muscles and mass, gave out way before his spirit did. He certainly didn't want to go. Animals don't give up. They just keep on trying until they can't anymore. Should I have put him down sooner? Should I have even taken him in at all? I guess it all depends on what you believe. And I certainly believed in Angus.
What was it that made Angus so dear to us? Was it just his huge size? He is a rarity; Draft horses are not as common as they were years ago. His coloring? He really did resemble the horse from the movie Brave. Or was it the stark reality of his physical condition? Whether by abuse or by disease, his starvation was startling to see. Coping with my anger towards his prior owners, however many back this problem started, plus the fact that there are many people out there who would have either walked right past him without a second thought or simply been unwilling to try to help him; those will be issues I'll be working through for some time. Rehabilitating Angus was a pretty far shot even from the start, but at what point, when we as humans are faced with such a situation, do we make the decision to try? To hope? Not every animal can be saved, nor should be saved, but what we do in a situation when we can try to save one defines us. Its the outward sign of our inward beliefs, and apparently my strongest belief is in the power of hope.
We were unemployed when we took in Angus, but things just kept falling into place with his care; from having knowledgeable friends, a great supportive family, Joe getting a new job, even to meeting a handful of excellent vets. It was a strange situation from the beginning, and we had much too short a time with Angus in my opinion, but it was all necessary. It was all worth it, even the tears afterwards. It didn't teach me as much as remind me of who I am, what I know, and most importantly, what I believe.
So if on one hand the question is when do we try, then the other is when do we give up? In Angus' case, he never gave up. His body, his huge shell of muscles and mass, gave out way before his spirit did. He certainly didn't want to go. Animals don't give up. They just keep on trying until they can't anymore. Should I have put him down sooner? Should I have even taken him in at all? I guess it all depends on what you believe. And I certainly believed in Angus.