I am a relative newcomber to the horse world and have unfortunately been the victim of what I would consider some very poor decision making by “those in charge.” I am the owner of the horse that was euthanized in Kent County, MD early Sunday morning. Below, I have attached the tribute to my beautiful mare, Pet.
The purpose in my posting on this forum is to obtain some feedback from those in the racing business as to how we,“the collective” horse world can do a better job in the control of this horrendous disease. As in the cases at Pimlico, poor management and control of this disease affects everyone. Short-sided decisions have had tremendous consequences for all involved.
I agree that closing facilities may not be the answer. Lack of contact (close or otherwise) is the only full proof prevention for this disease. So, as in the situation of Pimlico, why could there not be some form of notice provided to owners, trainers, … and, I don’t mean a post on the State Ag website. I mean notice given to everyone on the premises that the disease is present there. Notice would give the owners/trainers the opportunity to take their own risk by keeping or shipping a horse into that facility. In our case, I don’t believe that the owner of the filly would have sent her to Pim and certainly the farm would not have accepted her.
Time is of essence in the communication of information about this disease. In the case of my horse, she had a fever 4 days, 1 day neuro and that was it. A dead horse is not the point at which we should be communicating. From what I read here, temps are taken on many of the horses that are being trained. Temps are the first indication of the disease.
I have posted similar messages on the Eventing website and would appreciate thoughts and feedback. Eliminating and containing this disease (which KILLS and disables horses) is in all of our best interest. (if you’re interested in reading about this lovely mare,please do…if not, just skip) But, I would really appreciate some thoughts here. Thanks
Pet
1999-2006
Her name was Test Pattern, she was a 16.2, chestnut thoroughbred mare, seven-years old this spring, a top-preliminary eventing champion. Kim (her breeder and trainer) told me that they started with “Pat” but it didn’t fit, so Pet was the name that evolved for this beautiful animal, who was more dog than horse.
I have pretty much started everything in life a little late. I always loved horses and my family actually won a horse at a soccer game in Kansas City, who turned out to be in foal, so actually I guess I won two horses, Craemer and Gidget whose fates are still unknown to me, as we were not financially equipped to keep those horses. We ended up at Kim’s farm by chance, when our daughter needed to move her long-outgrown pony from another barn. I would wander around the farm and look at these beautiful animals, Pet was the special one. I met her when she was three, I was forty-three (I really meant late in life). I hadn’t ridden a horse since Gidget, when I was 9. which at that point consisted of a bareback mount around the back-yard.
I took lessons at the barn on another horse for about 9 months and then the owners asked if I wanted to buy Pet. Again in the position of not being able to afford either the purchase or the board, my dear husband gave a nod and the newest member of our family was added. I never sat on Pet before we bought her. I was terrified and excited all at the same time. Terrified perhaps by the knowledge of the dangers of the sport and the too much realization of my age, I preceded at a walk and then a trot on this fairly newly broken young mare. Kim used to refer to us as “learning together.” I was blessed with a trainer who was long on patience with me and terrifically talented and dedicated to her horses.
Our first months were a little bumpy, Pet clipped a rail injured her leg and we walked and walked and walked until she got better. By the end of winter in 2004, Pet was ready to do some competing. And so, Kim and Pet launched into the event world that spring, owner in tow, most of time soaking up anything and everything about what they were doing (I had no clue). I guess that it was early April that year that my husband and I also found out that we were pregnant with twins ( I really meant that I started everything a little late). So far as the horse went though, we never missed a beat, Kim and I decided I would help her train Pet (she was always very generous on my side of the contribution here, I groomed and she trained.) and she would continue to compete her.
There were more than a few people who gasped when I told them I was having twins, even more when I told them that I rode Pet (a five year old then) until I was about five-months pregnant. Granted, we were not galloping in some open field, we were just doing our walk-trot thing around the indoor ring. When I couldn’t’ ride anymore, I spent all my ride-time, helping Kim with Pet. I watched the majority of her training, I groomed and washed her everyday and I intently watched as she and Kim had a great time together out there doing their thing. It was an experience I will always cherish.
The last competition that year was in late October. My husband and I drove three uncomfortable hours to the event (I was eight months pregnant) to watch Kim and Pet take home 2nd place. Frank has always supported my enthusiasm with Pet, even when it meant he had to drive me, the time together offered an opportunity to talk (we also have a 10 and 13 year old) about whatever was happening in our lives, but mostly we just gushed about Kim and Pet.
In November, 2004 Jack and Nellie arrived (and yes, they are the most beautiful babies). Life changed for me in a lot of ways, with a part of that figuring out how to find the time to ride Pet and get back to the barn. I can’t say I jumped right back in. I think it was late January before I actually sat on Pet again. And, true to form, we started to do that walk-trot (and now canter and a few jumps ) thing. Pet was an amazing animal, she could go out and do these amazing athletic events and then stand by the truck as if she were out in the field grazing.
My sister, who is deathly afraid of horses, brought her three kids out to visit (all teenagers). Of course, I had to take them to the barn. I was so proud of Pet, she was so special. All the kids jumped on to “take a ride” around the indoor ring. I will never forget my 16 year-ld nephew doing the giddy-up thing and Pet just walking lazily along. By the end of the six kids taking a ride on Pet, my sister, after witnessing the gentleness of this creature, set her camera down and took a ride on Pet. Pet will never understand the incredible gap that she closed from sheer terror to “that wasn’t half bad.”
Pet was just a wonderful horse. She was the alpha-mare bitch in the field, she was a tough and talented competitor and she was my friend.
Almost 10 days ago, we lost her Pet’s full sister Ting (Just Testing) to the neurological form of Equine Herpes Virus (EHV-1). How this virus traveled to our barn is a horrific act of negligence by “some” in the racing industry but certainly not the focus of this memorial. Approximately 3-days prior to Ting’s death, Kim was notified that one of the horses who had been shipped to the farm, had co-existed in a barn that had a confirmed death from the neurological form of EHV-1 at the race track. Even though Kim took precautionary steps to segregate this horse upon its arrival to the farm, the notification came too late. The barn had contracted this deadly disease.
After a significant amount of research and fueled by a pit in my stomach that kept me up at night, I discovered that in actuality, there had been three horses put down at this track, all confirmed with EHV-1 and all in different barns. Now with Ting’s death, another horse going “neuro” and other fevers at the farm, Kim was catapulted from national event-rider/competitor, trainer and horse owner into a one-person 24-hour horse nursing care provider for all of these precious animals. Kim took temperatures on eighteen horses two to three times a day. Each day some progress, each day some set backs, as another horse begins showing neurological symptoms and another treated horse begins to recover.
Pet showed an elevated temperature one day, that was normal the next… She bounced a couple of times but the pit in my stomach stayed firmly in place. I felt helpless beyond words to support Kim during this crisis and would run supplies, paint and food to her so that she could stay focused on the animals. When I walked into the indoor ring that morning to see Pet, I knew. She was different. I don’t know how to describe it in technical words or maybe even in horse language, but it looked like every muscle in her back had just let go. She was standing, moving, albeit dragging her feet, and if you didn’t know her you would just think that she didn’t feel good. I think that what I saw was in her eyes. Obviously, horses can’t talk, and it is weird because my babies don’t talk either, but I can tell the cry of pain, or “I just lost my binky, or even “Jack just took my toy.” Maybe it is being a new mom, maybe it is a tuition thing, maybe it was just the pit in my stomach, but I knew something was really wrong. I called the vet and I spoke with Kim and everyone assured me that horses recover from this and that she was not as bad as Terra or Meryl.
The next morning when I got to the barn the DiDi (our vet) was there with Kim in the ring. They had already catheterized Pet, as her bladder was paralyzed. She was up, but staggering, unsteady and continually moving right to catch her balance. You could tell that she just wanted to lean against something. Didi asked me to call the hospital to get another catheter so we could put it in her. In the time that I went to make the call in the house, Pet went down. Before I left for the hospital, I ran to see Pet, she was on her right side and Kim, Kelly and Didi were rubbing her legs and stroking her neck. That damn pit in my stomach. I drove madly to the hospital, where the very concerned hospital administrator laid out for me 4 different catheters. I picked the largest and the smallest hoping they would be the right ones.
After the half hour drive to and from the hospital, I arrived back at the farm, where the very
concerned State Vet personnel were talking with Kim and Didi. They did not go see Pet, they did understand our concern and left some “biosecurity booties” and literature on the disease. Upon entering the ring, Pet was still on her right side and Didi was in process of inserting the catheter to which Pet objected thoroughly (which was a good sign). We then tried to get her up.
I’ve never witnessed a horse that can’t rise. I don’t ever want to watch it again. After her third or forth attempt, I had to go outside. I couldn’t watch anymore. It was pouring rain, I paced frantically, it was beyond description. I went back to the ring and they were going to try again. Pet was pissed. We were trying to get her on her left side, no way, she rolled she put her feet out and everyone rapidly pulled the ropes off her so she wouldn’t get tangled. She stood.
Pet wandered around the indoor without stopping for about 15 minutes. I had my husband run and get her treats, from the other barn… I grabbed small bits of hay to feed her. I walked with her the entire time. I feed her all her treats and continued her hay. We set up the barrels to put the hay on and her water. She wandered to the other side of the ring and started to stagger. She was desperately trying to catch herself. She crashed into the barrels, her hind legs unable to hold her anymore and she was down.
We all stopped, took a break. Didi left. We all went into the house and ate. It was a waiting game. She needed to rest. I went to the barn before I went home to relieve our babysitter and told her how proud I was of her. She was a fighter and she would get better.
On my way home, I called my sister in Kansas. I sobbed. I just could not help her. I was so afraid and this damn knot in my stomach. I talked to the vet again, she was now at home. I told her to tell me what was the worst thing that could happen. I wanted to know. I needed to be prepared. i got home and fed the babies. Nellie could not sleep. She cried and cried. I cried and cried. My husband called a few hours later, no change. Pet was on her side, they were rolling her every couple of hours. He called again to say he was coming home. Five minutes later Kim called. She’s worse.
On the way to the barn my knot went away, I knew. I got in the indoor ring. Kim and Kelly were laying with Pet. Kim at her head, Kelly on her body. Pet was spasming every 10 seconds or so. I took my place at her neck and told her it was ok. She needed to let go, it was ok. The half an hour that it took the vet to get there was a life altering experience. Pet seemed to have less intense spasms, it was more involuntary than anything.
Didi arrived she looked at Pet, checked her eyes, her heart, touched her legs and looked directly at me and said “ I can sedate her which will prolong her life, but I can not guaranty that she will be any different when she wakes up.” I told her that I did not know my options. I wanted her to tell me what to do. She looked at me directly and said “you should put her down.” I shook my head, I could not talk. Didi went to the truck. I walked around to Pet’s head. I said goodbye. We all told her how much we loved her, how special she was and how blessed we were to have her as a part of our lives.
Today, Pet is up there jumping big fences, grazing green fields and being the alpha-bitch of heaven. I am down here, today, broken-hearted but thanking God for gracing my life and giving me the opportunity and privilege of knowing this wonderful and beautiful animal, Pet.
