Monday, 13 July 2015

Being a grown up sucks...

...Sadly so does being a heavy four legged, grass eating, flight animal with only two and a half good legs.

As with all animal owning responsibilities we are duty and morally bound to ensure that our livestock and pets have suitable food, water and space to exhibit their normal behaviors.

We have...had, four (+1 estranged) beautiful and very different horses with different needs.  One competition horse, an adult pony, a yearling pony and a young but retired racehorse; a lady in waiting, waiting for her turn to shine in the field of dressage...or just fun rides.

For reasons we will never know our "Lady in waiting", Jen, injured herself in the field on the 2nd July.  There were no marks or cuts but the symptoms presented themselves as a foot abcess. As agreed with the farrier the hoof was treated accordingly with a regime of hot and cold poulticing.  After a second farrier visit I decided to call the vet as the foot was not behaving in the familiar way I was expecting and Jen's good front leg was starting to show signs of stress with the prolonged limping.

A specialised equine vet examined all legs and hooves.  After a realistic discussion of all possible problems and treatment a sample of joint fluid was taken from the offending leg with the understanding that any joint problems may not be fixable in this case.  Jen was made comfortable with fluffy support bandages, pain killers and anti inflammatories and allowed to enjoy a night in the meadow with her soul mate Easter.

On Thursday our worst fears were confirmed..  Jenjen had severe coffin joint sepsis.  The vet gave us the reality check before I even asked saying that with an infection this high surgery would not be a viable option.

Thoughts flashed through me; how? Why? What if? But ultimately I knew what was coming.

I organised the hunt to come Friday afternoon. 

Hunts are a vital, I will say that again; VITAL, part of the countryside.  Step aside from the image you have of  horn blowing, Fox chasing, toffs and picture a working man a proper grafter, doing a job with tasks that no one wants to do.

Pete had a kind face weathered from the sun and wind, dressed in a help for hero's t-shirt and shorts (it was very hot). He knew his job but received no pleasure from this task.  He looked on sadly and we exchanged a few friendly words and I handed Jenjens lead rope over to him.

We stayed with her to the end.  Jen knew nothing but the sun on her back, her friends close by and this friendly stranger with a yummy bucket of food...

The hunt get all sorts of press but if I Could have given this chap a medal I would have.  The pinnacle of professionalism he was a gent, yet for him the grim process had only just begun, Jen would feed the hounds for two days yet.  Nothing would go to waste.

Rural communities struggle without a local fallen stock service, especially in the summer travelling miles to drop off decaying bodies to dispose of as a job lot, or even worse dumping them.  Despite the bravado and pomp hunts struggle everyday with many merging or disappearing altogether leaving gaps in the counties where farmers and owners of livestock and horses have to result to slaughter men and incinerators (from experience these guys are often of Eastern European origin and do not always have the most sensitive customer service skills).

Jen went off to the meadow in the sky to play with her old friend Berry (he also went to the hunt), and then there was three...

We will not be replacing Jen although Easter is still rather withdrawn she has the ponies. We all need time to adjust and perhaps other things will slot into place.  We do miss her cheery brown face, the first to notice us like a brown giraffe alerting her field mates to our arrival.  We loved her.

Sweet dreams Jen x



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