He was the perfect beginner horse, and would take care of any rider at the walk and trot. Besides my daughter, we had friends, cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles enjoy rides on him. He was a total goofball when we took him to a local arena, but calmed down and worked through it with me. He knew if I was riding that I would make him work. He much preferred his sweet girl, and showed it in his expression of pure joy every time he saw her. His ears would prick forward and his eyes would light up at her knowing she probably had treats in her hands.
The onset of laminitis was rather sudden and he was very lame. If you watch this video, when the vet first came to see him, he had the stance of a "severe sinker," although I didn't know that then. To get the x-rays, we had to block all 4 feet so that he could stand comfortably on the cement, and then after we saw the rotation, we decided to take him to the vet hospital while he was still blocked so he could be seen daily for DMSO for 3 days and be in a sand stall for a while. I don't know if I would do it that way again, but it is the decision we made. Dropping him off was an emotional nightmare. They had to temporarily put him in a stall with no windows - it was a sand stall, and he was only there for 40 minutes, but I really didn't want to leave him in that situation at all. Thankfully the kids were still in the truck and didn't need to have that information. I was clear that I would rather take him home than have him where he couldn't see other horses, and was assured that he would be moved into the other sand stall very soon. I was also in a bit of an emotional spot not knowing whether Max would make it home. On our way out, I had to drive the trailer back behind the clinic near a manure pile, and ended up sinking the dually up to its rims in the muddy shavings. A tractor pulled us out, but it was still stressful.
5 days later, he did make it home. He was still lame, but much more comfortable and was standing squarely. Over the next few weeks he seemed to get a little more comfortable, a little quicker in his stall to come visit you at the door. He would go out in his paddock and scratch withers with Charlie over the fence. But last week I noticed him seeming a little more sore, so I made an appointment for the vet to come out to do x-rays to see where we were. I had been waiting to see that typical founder ring at the top of his hoof, and it was finally growing. The line was so deep I worried that the hoof wall might come off. A few days later I noticed that at the top of the coronary band, it felt strange - like the hoof had slid up on his pastern slightly - or rather, his coffin bone had sunk. I hoped I was wrong. For the rest of the week he got progressively lamer each day. First I noticed his RF seemed more sore, then his rear feet one at a time.
The day before the vet appointment, my daughter and I had a long talk in the barn about Max. We stood in his doorway and just watched him, and then we sat down on a hay bale and kept watching and thinking and talking and snuggling. We left his stall door open... his feet hurt too much to try and take advantage of it, at least not at first. He did not want to put weight on his LH. We talked about all of the horses that I have helped cross over to the rainbow bridge and why we made that choice. We talked about rotation vs. sinking. I told her I didn't know for sure what the x-rays would show, but that how sore he was was not okay, and we have to put the welfare of the horse above our feelings. We talked about how horses in the wild that were very lame would not survive long. And we talked about the process of euthanasia, and that the vet always gives them a sedative before injecting an overdose of a barbiturate.
The day of the appointment I researched and hoped for some sort of way we could help him further. I didn't find anything that you could do once the coffin bone hand sunk down. And then my daily email from The Horse arrived and the top story was about how humane euthanasia actually was... I went out to the barn to groom Max mid-day and he was laying down. I went in his stall and pet him and sat down and waited, hoping he would get up soon on his own. I have walked into the barn when he has been laying down many times and this was the first time he didn't jump up to see what was going on. He lay there for the next 3 hours, and thankfully he did get up. I knew just by watching him that it was time.
The vet finally arrived and my daughter and I met her out at the barn. She rubbed her hands over his hooves one by one and said that without even x-raying him she could tell he had already sunk and that, "I think you should put him down." As much as I knew it was coming and thought I was prepared, the tears started falling down my cheeks. It was hard to talk. My daughter looked up at me with worry but strength. We asked the vet if she had ever seen a horse rehabbed from sinking in all 4 and she shook her head sadly. She said that if it is just one hoof you could cast it and let a new hoof grow over the next year, but with all 4 the horse had no way of being comfortable on any of his hooves. We had talked about it and I knew my daughter didn't want to be there for the actual process, but this was her horse, and she wanted to be the one to take him to his resting spot. I told her she could feed him as many treats as he wanted. The vet gave him some banamine to help him be more comfortable before walking out of the barn. He hadn't been able to have any grass since he had been home. He was so excited to get some carrots and ate more than half a 5lb bag. He made it out onto the grass with my daughter at the lead and was so happy to have his muzzle down in the green stuff but still took every carrot she offered. More tears fell as I watched my daughter put a braid in his mane - the same way she did for Penny, and I did for Arthur, and all the others. And then she bravely braided his tail. Final hugs and kisses were given and the vet and I watched her and her brother run into the house.
I have helped my share of horses pass over the rainbow bridge and some times they pass easier than others. Max, like everything else in his life, passed the easiest of them all. He was very relaxed after the xylazine and I kept rubbing my hand on his forehead and told him over and over how much we loved him and thanked him for all he had done for us, and when the last of the pink injection was in, he bent his knees and laid down and was gone. So peacefully.
