Hey all,
I’m back with the sad but not unexpected update that we let Andy go at the end of June. A regimen of twice daily prendnisolone gave him three GOOD months – he gained some weight, had a great appetite, and was his normal, lovey, happy self – he lived out on pasture with his herd, and was loved on every day. The long goodbye gave us a chance to be with him, appreciate and spoil him. About 4 days before the end, his symptoms came back with a vengeance – fire-hose diarrhea, loss of appetite, etc. We tried a last-ditch effort of increasing his steroid dose to see if we could turn it, even temporarily, but we soon realized it was time to let him go. We said goodbye on a beautiful summer evening, after giving him a huge steroid dose for the analgesic effect. That allowed his people to gather, to give him lots of rubs, pats, and carrots, and to walk him out of this world surrounded by those he loved and who loved him. It was peaceful, gentle, and he was the best, best boy till the very end. We stayed by his body as first the fireflies and then the stars came out, and we thought of him streaking across the sky – tail flagged, mane flying; free again.
My daughter fell in love with Andy when she was 10, and Andy was a sale horse at our barn (at a price we couldn’t afford). Then the stars aligned. When we woke her up before her 11th birthday to tell her that Andy would be hers, she just kept blinking and saying, “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?”. That dream lasted for 19 years; my daughter turned 30 a few days ago.
I wanted to share a photo that was taken just before he died, because it’s a tribute to the amazing soul he was. My daughter had been so stoic and strong for him, but when it came time to walk him to the patch of grass where we would lay him down, she utterly broke — just crumpled to the ground sobbing in the corner of the field. Andy, feeling better on his last dose of pred, had started nibbling at grass some distance away. When he saw my daughter crying and me comforting her, he stopped, walked over, and reached down, nuzzling the top of her head. My friend snapped a photo of the moment, and I’m glad she did – it’s heartbreaking for me to look at, but I think all of us here can relate.
Thanks for reading my soppy words, and thanks for your help and support. Vale, Andy – and thank you 
