Just a vent here. COTHers seem to be so good at commiserating and finding silver linings. I lost my GSD the first week of February. I came home in the evening to find her suffering from bloat. I rushed her to the vet and she went into emergency surgery but her stomach had already twisted. On the table she suffered cardiac arrest and my sweet girl left this world. She was only 8-1/2 years old. I spoke with her breeder a few weeks later who said she was expecting a litter this spring. I reserved a puppy. The litter turned out to be just a single pup. I want to get another dog but I’m not sure I want to deal with a singleton, so I’m on the fence about that.
My heart horse, who’s been retired for nearly 6 years due to stifle and suspensory issues, has been indicating more discomfort lately. I’ve always felt that he’d tell me when he’s ready to go, and in the last couple weeks I’ve noticed a little of the spark gone from his eyes. He’s still eating well, gets around as best he can, and nickers when he sees me as he always has, but I went ahead and scheduled his Final Appointment. I picked April 15. That will be his 25th birthday and also the 14th anniversary of the day I got him. It seemed appropriate, and hopefully by then we’ll have some green grass and spring days to enjoy. I know it’s the right thing to do for him, and I’ve been trying to come to terms with it. But it’s such a weird sensation to look at him and think, “he’s got 3 weeks to live.” I’ve not been in this particular situation before, and it’s hard.
My other old horse is just NQR in his back end this spring and I think it’s time to retire him, too. He’s only 20 but high mileage (STB, 231 races, 13 years on the track and probably 25,000 miles in a jog cart) and he’s just plain worn out. His pasterns are dropping and he had some stifle issues last fall. At this point I can’t see fighting his non-specific lameness when he’s no longer enjoying his job.
Then the other day I pulled an inch long wood splinter out of my yearling’s neck. I’ve squeezed copious amounts of puss out and I suppose one is never too young to learn to take medicine (Tucoprim in this case), and I’m sure he’ll recover. But it’s just one more thing, you know?