Thoughts on the Death of an Old Friend This evening at about 6:30, June 20th 2010, Father’s Day, I euthanized an old friend.  Lady was a Percheron draft horse; she and her mother came to me in 1992. Over the years, she and her mother Princess pulled sleighs and wagons for cookout dinners, parades, and anything else I asked them to do. They moved with me to Montana and back; saw me through one wife and several girlfriends, to the last great love of my life, Cindy. They almost never complained and willingly served me and were served by me during the time I owned them, and they owned me.
One summer morning two years ago I walked into the pasture to find Princess dead. She apparently just lay down and died. There were no signs of a struggle, just a few marks in the dirt where her feet moved slightly in, or just after her final moments. I brought her from Elizabeth to our ranch in the Bijou Basin and carried her to her final resting place on the top of the hill, with the view of the basin and Pikes Peak, to be with the other horses who served me so well and who died while they were with me. Last winter Lady began to get thinner; I attributed it to old age and possibly parasites. She had her teeth done a year or so ago so I didn’t think that was the problem I wormed her and hoped that would improve the situation, it didn’t. Earlier this month I looked at her teeth and found they really weren’t in very good shape. I had them done and again hoped that would help her. Even though I thought I was doing all the things I thought I should do, she seemed to be going downhill. I came out one morning last week and she was standing with her head down, listless and drooling. I brought her into a pen where she wouldn’t have to compete with other horses and gave her a grass alfalfa mix along with grain and Forco. She perked right up and after several days I put her back in the main pasture with her friends. I did a clinic at Colorado Horse Rescue that weekend. In the morning Cindy called me and told Lady was down and couldn’t get up. Cindy gave me her vital signs and I asked her to give Lady some Banamine to see if that would help. After lunch Lady wasn’t any better and participants at the clinic urged me to go home to take care of her. I loaded up Cash and headed for home, a two hour drive. I got home between four and five and called my veterinarian, Barbara Page, to see if she had any suggestions. Dr. Page suggested Banamine again, and suggested I roll her over. The whole day Lady fought to get up; the Banamine helped her be more comfortable but when I got there she still couldn’t get up and was becoming weaker and weaker. She couldn’t get her head up to drink, so I dipped water with my hand and moistened her mouth. She was able to drink a little that way and it seemed to make her more comfortable. She continued to try, but was clearly going the wrong way. I tried to get her up on her chest by lifting her with the tractor, but she couldn’t even hold her head up. Even though she hadn’t given up she was clearly dying. At that point I couldn’t with good conscience continue to allow her to suffer. I talked to her about all the good times we had with her mother - about how she always let Princess do most of the work until I got after her to “pull her share”. About the innumerable self-important geldings she had helped to understand their true place in the natural order of things. I breathed into her nose, with my nose one last time and with tears in my eyes, ended her life. Lady was gone. All that was left was the body she had used for the twenty some years she lived. I clipped off her forelock and tail and carried her up to the top of the hill to be with her mother and the other horses that had gone before her. I laid her next to her mother in the Prickly Pear blossoms and Indian Paintbrush. Cindy was with me throughout this whole painful journey comforting both Lady and me. Earlier in the afternoon, while I was driving home I thought: what could I have done differently? Should I have had her teeth done earlier? What if I had wormed her sooner? What if I had left her in the paddock longer so she wouldn’t have to compete for food? What if I had trimmed her feet last week the way I intended to? Would any of that have helped? Would’a, should’a could’a. The truth is, she was an old horse; she had a good life and it was her time, and it was my responsibility to help her on this last journey in the best way I knew how. I was hoping for a miracle but knew that wasn’t likely. She wasn’t in a lot of pain and I could have left her where she was for the night, hoping she would be up in the morning, but I knew she wouldn’t and while it might have allowed me another night of hope it wouldn’t have been fair to her. So, is there a lesson? If so, what is it? Can it help other horses and other owners, or am I just getting this off my chest? Who knows, either way, here are my notions. I think it’s our responsibility to prepare for the end of our lives and of the lives of those beings that we have a responsibility for. It’s my personal view that we should think long and hard about prolonging the lives of those we love and/or are responsible for. Are we doing that for them, or for ourselves? What will be their quality of life between now and the time they finally do die, because we are all going to die? It has always comforted me to know that “life is a sexually transmitted condition that is one hundred per cent fatal”, and “no one leaves alive”. In most cases we have a choice as to how our animals’ lives will end. In the case of horses, the American Association of Equine Practitioners has three acceptable methods of equine euthanasia. Those three methods are; gunshot, captive bolt and lethal injection. Euthanasia comes from the Greek, eu meaning well or good and thanatos, meaning death. For me, a good death is good for the one who is dying, as good as it can, be for those around whoever is dying, and the death is not harmful to the environment we live in. Most horse who are euthanized at the direction of their owners (by a veterinarian), are euthanized by lethal injection, a concoction that is almost always a barbiturate overdose. When it’s done it’s a time of stress, sadness and grief and when the owner leaves (if they were ever there), the horse is taken to what is best described as a landfill. What is left of that beloved animal is toxic waste. Some landfills won’t even take them because it is toxic and whatever comes in contact with the carcass will die - scavenging hawks, coyotes, dogs, cats - any scavenger that nature provided to break down what is left of the shell after its spirit has left. That in mind I believe it is more humane, and certainly better for the environment, for horses to be euthanized by gunshot. Done properly the horse is dead before its knees buckle and the body can be disposed of without harming any of the organisms that naturally work to decompose it. Never again will I willingly have a horse in my care euthanized by lethal injection. What is most important to me is not to allow what is left of a horse that served faithfully to become toxic waste. That doesn’t honor the memory of that horse, nor is it responsible to the earth we all depend on. I know not everyone can bear to end their horses life that way, but if you have read this far, I hope you will consider the consequences of how you end the life of your friend when and if that becomes necessary. How will you do the last kind thing you will ever do for that friend? Not everyone can euthanize a horse in this way by themselves but you may have a friend, or your veterinarian may know someone who can help you. I am hopeful that as more and more people understand the negative consequences of the use of barbiturate overdoses more veterinarians will offer other alternatives. The best policy is to let your vet know your preferences and make arrangements for your choice of euthanasia to be used if that time should come. | 
