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IT IS MY SAD DUTY TO REPORT that on Tuesday June 24, 2003,
ANDY, a former resident of PBRC, passed away.
It was a sudden bout with colic, and a back injury caused possibly when
he went down, or during efforts to get up, and resulting in partial paralysis of his hind legs.
With the help of neighbor Bruce Yoho and his tractor, we were able to get Andy on his feet for a
last meal and drink of water, and lots of massage and attention, with his herd around him, but over
two hours resulted in no improvement in his ability to move his hind legs. He went down again, and
due to the nature of the problem, and his extreme age (approximately 35 years old) making his
recovery prospects dim, we made the difficult decision to let him go.
After losing Joey earlier this month, I’d been watching Andy and Malika
carefully, as my next oldest and frailest residents. I swear Andy seemed fine when I left the
property on Monday morning. Now I’m hovering over Malika, afraid to lose her too, as she’s been
eating oddly for about a month now, after dental work a couple of months ago to remove one of her
last few molars due to infection.
Andy was a kind and steady gelding who believed in doing his job
quickly and efficiently, and then being ‘left alone’. He spent all his time with Orion, who is
deeply attached to him and suffering a great deal with his passing. He was dumped here at the
Golden Carrot by a woman who also, years later, dumped Navigator on me. Her total lack of concern
for Andy’s ongoing welfare has always been a source of wonder to me, as Andy is the kind of horse
many people would cherish - lots of good training and miles, easy to make him go and stop, steady
as a rock to handle on the ground, and he was big enough to carry anyone. In years past he had
foundered, he hated to have his eyes treated which they needed due to a tendency to run and attract
flies, and tended to get gassy on alfalfa which he loved, but was otherwise a very easy keeper and
tolerant of anything.
In the nature of the enterprise, I will be presented with this loss
more and more. As my old friends reach the end of their time, all I can do is try to ease their
passing. Sometimes I wonder if it makes sense to work so hard to keep them healthy and happy - they
then last so long, and I come to love them so much, that the pain of their deaths seems unbearable.
But I believe with all my heart that after a lifetime of service, they deserve some comfort and
some ease. I will continue to provide it as long as I can.
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