Putting Yo down, as hard as it was after 23 years together, was way easier than watching Melly die slowly, horrifically.
Putting Yo down was not dramatic in any way, really. I was lucky and took it as a sign that everything aligned just right when the time came… I got there in time even though I told them not to wait for me, the Vet got there even though she was on her way somewhere else [Bless you Maria!], the guy who takes the remains and reassembles the skeletons was even in town to come get him [it was important to me that his body not go to the dump].
In many ways the last hours of Yos life were similar to the last few years with my dad… so sad to say goodbye, so many challenges that were less than pleasant, but what needed to be said/done got said and done, and I feel like I have real closure because of the way it unraveled.
Yes he was sedated first and went down a bit fast/hard but I was sobbing and didn’t really see that part. I know it happened because I heard it, but that sound is not what sticks with me, or what I remember when I think of it.
Knowing that there was absolutely no other choice, no other option was helpful.
The true meaning of gone was never more clear to me though, than once he was. And that was and is the hardest part to me. The complete totality of gone.
To your idea of ‘the horse doesn’t worry…’. I got there as they were walking Yo to the shed where they do this at the retirement farm. He was standing in the doorway, one person at his head, one holding his tail and one at his side. He was stopped in the doorway of the barn where he lived when I jumped out of the vehicle and his eyes lit up, his ears pricked forwards… as if to say, as he always did "Hey! My person is here!’.
It is an image I will never forget and I am SO grateful for.
Because he was already somewhat sedated [he had a bad colic and was down in the stall and not able/willing to get up without a lot of work which I am glad I missed] he had all those helpers assisting him. I joined the march, walking at his side, my hand on his side where my leg lay when I was riding him, talking to him as I would have if I was riding him… and his ear was back to me the whole slow walk to the shed.
It was super important to me that he know I was there. It gave me a lot of peace of mind that he knew that the one constant he had come to know since the race track was there at the end.
I got to say my goodbyes to him in the shed. The hardest thing was being done with those goodbyes, stepping back and saying ‘ok do it’ essentially. How do you do that? Decide you’ve said enough, said what you needed to, pet him enough,… and step away? If I had not made it brief, worrying that the drugs would wear off and he would be in pain again, I’m not sure I could have done it.
ETA, sorry, apparently I can go on and on about this topic and this obviously goes beyond what you asked, but I’ve been meaning to write this and now it seems to be do-able…
As I said, Yo was down in his stall quite a while and they had trouble getting him up. Been there done that with other horses. I am so glad I missed it with mine. But what Yo’s passing showed me, was something I had been trying to do our whole relationship.
When the workers were trying to get Yo up, including the farm manager who is truly the Boss Mare of the operation… not once, but twice the guard dog went into Yo’s stall and went after her, the Boss Mare, for the rough treatment she was clearly needing to use to get him up and out of that stall. Bunkie was willing to defend my Yo, from someone who was the top dog of that place, always. That was incredible to me, and something Bunkie will always have my heart for.
But also every person there was so touched, it was so evident just how much everyone there really loved that horse of mine.
I had spent years showing him, and clinic’ing and trying to share just how special this horse was with others… to demonstrate how special he was… and what it took was him being him… everyday, with the workers…
Knowing others were as upset as I was that we lost him, not just lost a horse, but lost him… including the guard dogs? That was incredible to me. It’s all I ever wanted all those years, for others to know how special he was.
I’ve also been present for many many dogs and cats when I worked in the animal ER. IME, the ones that go ‘bad’ are rare.