I had to put a beautiful, athletic TB gelding down three weeks shy of his 6th birthday after 18 months of rehabbing him for an undisclosed tendon injury and trying to get his body right. He’d been abused and manhandled by the owners who got him off the track, and on a bad day he was genuinely dangerous to handle. By the end he was pretty good, but I would never have trusted that horse with an inexperienced person and quite a few experienced folks–he was ready for a fight if he felt you were being unfair, and he was absolutely willing to come at you if he thought that was his only option.
Due to financial constraints, I never did the full workup that you did. Because he came to me with a track bow that was undisclosed and unhealed, and attempts at stall rest resulted in truly frightening behavior, he spent the rehab time just hanging out in a field. We ultrasounded the tendon to check for progress, and during that time we also did some knee rads (mysterious swelling, suspected chip–rads were clear. I had decided that if it was a chip that needed surgery, I would euthanize. I felt guilty at the time but knowing what I know now, I think it was just my gut screaming at me.), hoof rehab (his feet were atrocious), and miscellaneous other vet bills (like him managing to slice open his gums and pack the slice with foxtails in the span of 6 hours). The entire time 18 months I spent rehabbing the tendon, there was a niggling voice in the back of my head that something was really, really wrong. Unfixable wrong. When I expressed this thought, everyone insisted that it was just the feet, the tendon, he just needs fitness, etc. Mind you, these weren’t the folks handling this horse on a daily basis, but…I let myself be convinced. I ignored my gut and did what I could and hoped things would improve. If you weren’t looking hard, he seemed fine. He’d run around in the field, play with the other horses, eat, drink, poop, etc…but when he was resting, he always had a hind foot cocked, and would shift weight every minute or so. As soon as he stopped moving, he cocked a foot. He always had a slight grimace. His movement was just NQR. No amount of ulcer meds/hindgut meds/supplements could make him enthusiastic about grain.
It was a week after he was cleared to start trotting that I knew the tendon and the feet weren’t the problem. The constant shifting weight–he never stood square and he never stood evenly on both hinds–was getting worse, the movement was getting worse, his behavior was getting worse…and this was with a minute of trotting each direction. I sent him up to a trusted friend and hoofcare professional as a last ditch effort to see if maybe there was something I was missing about his feet or handling or something. She called me the next day and finally said out loud what I’d been thinking: whatever’s going on, this horse is in constant pain. I had a long conversation with her about finding the money to do a full work up, spending more $$$ I didn’t have chasing an answer, but she’d finally given me permission to hear what my gut had been saying: I could spend all the money in the world, and the answer would be the same. I decided to put him on bute for a week and put him down when I could come see him–I was 2 hours away and starting a new job, and I wanted to be there to say goodbye. My friend was willing to bury him on her property, she dug the hole on a Tuesday for the appointment on Saturday.
Wednesday afternoon, she calls me to tell me that he had run through her electric fence–he had some trouble with the hills at her place, we suspect he started running and couldn’t stop–and impaled himself on a large bush. She found him at the feeder, eating calmly, with a 2" wide branch sticking out of his chest. She put him down on the spot. The branch went about 18" into his chest cavity. To this day, I think that horse was telling me he didn’t want to wait one more day. I’m not a woo person, but I’m still convinced that he knew and he was ready.
In retrospect, we think he’d been flipped over by the previous owners multiple times. I also learned from his track trainer that he had two full brothers who had to be euthanized due to Wobbler’s. I’ll never know for sure. Only a handful of people know that I had planned to put him down before the accident. Of those, most were/are understanding and supportive, a couple were put off by it, and one person who I considered a friend truly believes I was going to murder this horse unnecessarily. That I was obligated to sink thousands of dollars I don’t have into diagnostics and treatment, or find this 17h young, powerful, and in some cases violent horse a home that would do them or retire him. It was ugly, and sad, and I hated to lose the friendship. But I believe to my core that I did the right thing by the horse, even if he ultimately made the decision for me. I will not be ashamed of that.
If I could go back in time, I would do things very differently–because I ignored my gut instincts that something was REALLY wrong for 18 months and allowed vets and other people to tell me I was overthinking it, that it was just this or that or the other thing. I don’t regret that I gave him the best final 18 months of his life that I could, and he died loved and cared for and having learned that people were safe instead of brutal. I could not have rehomed this horse in good conscience. But I regret the debt I put myself into and stress and negative consequences that had for me, personally. I regret dragging it out for as long as I did instead of listening to the voice in the back of my head that started saying “I think I know where this is going to end up” around month 2.
All this long post to say, if you’re thinking about it, it’s time. You know the horse better than anyone. If money is no object, and you really think you couldn’t bear to let him go without throwing every possible therapy at him, by all means, give it a shot…but at the end of the day, the horse doesn’t know a damn thing about tomorrow. He knows that his back hurts, he knows that he’s fed, he knows today. What you’re describing is not an animal that’s content just hanging out in his field. Sure, he’s not in blatant excruciating pain…but I don’t believe that’s a fair metric to use. Many, many people drag this decision out for so long, trying to beat back the inevitable. The only one that suffers for it is the horse. Better a day, a week, a month too soon than a moment too late.
So sorry you’re faced with this. Whatever you decide, this internet stranger supports you.