The Hardest Choice

                                                by Laura Crum

            We all face it if we love our animals. When to let them go? I am facing this now with my beloved 33 year old horse, Gunner. I wrote in my last post that he was getting steadily lamer and the Previcox wasn’t controlling the pain any more. But he was still eating well, playful, alert…etc.

            The day after I put up that post (Monday) I went down to the barn in the morning to feed and Gunner was in a state. Agitated, sweaty, pacing, not interested in his equine senior food (which he has been scarfing every day). I spent a lot of time with him and came to the conclusion that he wasn’t colicked (turned out this was right) and that I thought that he had somehow aggravated his painful knee. Maybe he fell, maybe had trouble getting up, who knows?

            Gunner couldn’t get comfortable. And Gunner’s response to pain is agitation. So he paced, or rather hobbled around. I grazed him and he ate a little, I called the vet, who said to watch him. I watched him all day (and petted him and grazed him). He paced. He never ate his equine senior food. He nibbled hay. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to be comfortable in any position. This was all completely different from the day before, when he had been lame but cheerful, with an unimpaired appetite. Something had changed in a big way. At the end of the day I decided he was just too uncomfortable. He could not live like this. Rather than call the vet that night, I gave Gunner two grams of bute, on the off chance that he might seem much better in the morning.

            I checked him before I went to bed and at midnight. He was much less lame, but still agitated and pacing. The next morning (yesterday) I had the vet out first thing. I meant to put Gunner down. I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want him to be in pain. At 33 years old I didn’t think I ought to put him through any pointless suffering. It wasn’t as if I could cure his bad knee.

            But Gunner looked a lot better than he had the day before. Still lame, still uncomfortable, but not agitated. Nickered at me to come get him, ears up. Still not interested in his senior food, but going after his hay with some enthusiasm. The vet and I watched him and checked him out and basically agonized, but neither of us felt right about putting down such a bright-eyed old horse. So we didn’t.

            We both agreed it would be soon. Maybe even days, not weeks. But the vet thought I should try him on a regular dose of bute and see how he did. Both the vet and I share the belief that euthanasia goes more smoothly if the animal is really ready to let go of life—and Gunner wasn’t sending that message.

            So now its one day at a time…and I worry endlessly. I graze Gunner and pet Gunner and watch him and bute him and I know it won’t be long now. I don’t want him to suffer. But I don’t want to end his life before he’s ready to let go of it. As long as his eye is bright and he shows enthusiasm for hay and grazing it seems to me he’s still enjoying life at least a little. The weather is currently lovely. The bute has made Gunner more comfortable. I know he probably will have to be put down before winter. Any day may be the day that I decide he’s in too much pain now. I’m just trying to find the line between too soon and too late. And trying to find that line is the hardest choice of all.

Lame

                                                            by Laura Crum

            If you’ve owned horses for any length of time, you have dealt with lameness. It’s just a fact of life with horses. They go lame from time to time. If you’re lucky, it’s not permanent. If you’ve never had a lame horse, you just haven’t owned enough horses, or owned any horse a long time.

            So I’ve been really lucky when it comes to lameness. I can pat myself on the back and say it’s because I have great horse keeping/riding practices and I know how to pick the sort of horse that stays sound, and maybe this has something to do with it. But really, maybe I’ve just been lucky.

            As of last year at this time, I had five completely sound horses on my place, including my retired 32 year old horse, my retired 23 year old horse, my riding horse, my son’s riding horse and my friend’s horse that I board here. Today? Well, the boarder is still sound.

            I know, it sounds bad. But it is part of life with horses.

            I retired Gunner, my now 33 year old horse, when he was 18 because he had enough arthritic changes that I felt he would be more comfortable if I didn’t work him. I retired Plumber (now 24) at 19 for the same reason. Both horses became much more free moving after some time off, and would long trot freely and completely sound as retired barefoot pasture pets. And this made me happy.

            Last winter Gunner got cast and was down (I think) most of the night. I found him there at morning feeding. He was stuck in a hollow by the fence and we had a very hard time getting him up (took a couple of hours). He was in pretty rough shape when he finally stood up, and I thought it was the end. But my vet convinced me that the horse could pull through, and this turned out to be true. It took a couple of weeks, but eventually Gunner was trotting sound again. However, he was never as free moving as he had been before being cast. Still, he was sound, he ate well, his weight was good, he would buck and play—I thought his quality of life was good enough. Here you see Gunner this summer.

            Several months after being cast, Gunner fell while running around screaming for his buddy (who I had taken out of the corral). Gunner got up from that fall limping, and since then developed some very obvious arthritic changes in his left knee. And he was lame. When it became clear that this wasn’t going to resolve on its own, I had the vet out.

            To cut to the chase—yep, he had bad arthritis in his knee, and we put him on Previcox—a pain killer which works well for long term use in arthritic horses. Gunner got better. But he never got really completely sound. And now, as it gets colder, he’s a little more off on that left front, despite the drug.

            He still bucks and plays a little, he eats well, his weight is pretty good. But he’s definitely lame. Here he is a week or two ago—getting fuzzy for winter.

            Gunner will be 34 next spring if he makes it that long. Right now I think his quality of life is good enough. But if he keeps getting lamer, I will have a hard choice to make. I have buted older horses to keep them comfortable, and I could do this with Gunner, but I am not sure I want to push this 33 year old horse to make it through another cold rainy muddy winter (and he hates being confined so locking him up in a stall won’t work). The end result is the same. Eventually the bute won’t mask the pain, as the Previcox is currently starting to fail to do. Do I just want to prolong this so Gunner can stand in the rain? I’m not sure.

            And then, just for icing on the cake, three weeks ago I went down to feed and 24 year old Plumber was lame in the right front. Plumber has been sound and comfortable, so my first thought was an abscess or a bruise. It just so happened the farrier was coming that day, so we trimmed Pulmber and used the hoof testers and could find nothing. No bruise, no tenderness. Also no swelling, no heat, no sign of injury anywhere on the leg or foot. But lame in the right front. OK then.

            I did not call the vet because I have been down this road before. We had done most of what a vet could do. The next step was X-rays. I decided to wait and see if Plumber got worse or better. If he got worse it was probably an abscess and would become much easier to diagnose. If he got better, well, as we expert horsemen say, he just tweaked himself. Or, more accurately, he probably aggravated an existing low level arthritic condition (such as ringbone, sidebone or navicular).

            Every day I checked Plumber out. First he got better. Then he got lamer. Then better. Then lamer. And then consistently a little better every day. Right now you can’t tell he is off unless you jog him in a circle on hard ground. Trotting in a straight line in his corral, he looks sound. And that’s sound enough for his pasture pet life. We’ll see what the future brings.

            Here you see my son giving Plumber a little love.

            Ok, retired horses having soundness problems is par for the course. At least my riding horses were sound. We’ve been riding two or three days a week all summer and having lots of fun. I’ve particularly been enjoying riding in the redwood forest on Sunny.

            My son and Henry have enjoyed chasing cattle.

            My son started his junior high homeschool program three weeks ago, and we have been really busy getting up to speed with that. We took a brief break from riding just due to how busy we’ve been. But last week things seemed to smooth out and we decided to go for a ride. We saddled up and my son started to warm Henry up. Henry is 25 and though he is still sound, his hocks are getting stiff. He needs lots of walking before he is asked to do more.

            I led Sunny out on the driveway to climb on and dang, he looked lame. I jogged him. He WAS lame. Lame in the left front. I picked his foot carefully. No obvious problems in the foot. Also no injuries, swelling or heat in foot or leg. I jogged him again. Still lame.

            This was a big surprise because Sunny gallops around in his corral every day at feeding time and trots up and down the fence, and I had seen no sign of lameness. But he was definitely lame in the left front now—too lame to ride. I unsaddled him, let him graze a little, and turned him back out.

            I bought both Sunny and Henry roughly six years ago. They have both been completely sound virtually the whole time I have owned them, and taken us on hundreds and hundreds of rides. In the nearby hills, on the beach, gathering cattle—we even hauled them to the Sierras. They have been barefoot almost the entire time. As Henry has gotten older, we’ve quit loping a lot of circles on him, but that has been the only real change. These two horses have been sound, solid riding horses for six years and given us an amazing amount of use. Henry is 25—Sunny is possibly as old as 20. So I wasn’t entirely shocked to find that Sunny was having a soundness problem. To be frank, I knew this would happen eventually. And eventually just happens to be now.

            My horses are all older. This is what happens when you don’t get rid of your beloved friends once they get past their best working years. To put it simply: you have older horses with soundness problems. I accept this. That doesn’t mean it makes me happy. But I accept it.

            I am going to give Sunny some time off and see if his lameness will resolve (unless he gets worse, in which case I will have the vet out ASAP). But if he still gallops up the hill at feeding time and trots without a head bob in his corral (as he did this morning), I think his quality of life is OK. I’m not sure about mine. I am pretty addicted to going for a ride any time I feel like it.

            Anyway, it’s early days to make predictions. Sunny may be sound next week. Or I may have the vet out and we’ll put Sunny on the Previcox, if that seems like the right choice. Or maybe it’s an abscess. If so, it will show itself and I’ll deal with it. For the moment, I’m going to take a deep breath and be grateful for all the happy rides I’ve had on my good little yellow mule. I’ll turn him out to graze, and give him lots of attention and accept the fact that owning and loving horses means dealing with lameness. It’s not all about happy rides in the sunshine. Sunny has given me plenty of wonderful rides and taken really good care of me—now it’s my turn to take care of him.

           

            

Ride a Gimpy Horse?

by Laura Crum

My last blog post about my son’s horse, Henry, generated some wonderful comments and stories about older horses. Some of them referenced “slightly gimpy” oldsters who were still having a good life teaching kids to ride, and these stories made me want to bring up this topic to discuss.

The topic is actually pretty relevant for me right now, because my horse, Sunny, is entering this category. Not that Sunny is so much an oldster. As a matter of fact, I don’t know how old Sunny is. He came from a California horse trader who bought him from a Mexican horse trader at a sale in El Paso. He was said to be six years old at the time. Those who know the horse business at all will automatically add at least two years to that age. I bought the horse two years later, so by this reckoning he would have been ten then. I had his teeth floated shortly after I bought him and asked the vet how old she thought he was. She said, “Fifteen.” I said, “Well, drat, I thought he was younger than that.” She looked again and said, “I don’t know. He’s got a funny mouth. The bottom teeth look younger than the top teeth.”

So, okey dokey, I don’t know how old Sunny is. That was three years ago. Which makes him somewhere between thirteen and eighteen now. And one thing I do know is that his previous owner had her vet X-ray him when he came up lame after a thirty mile ride (the problem turned out to be a bruised sole), and the X-rays showed “incipient ringbone”. So between that and the fact that he’s certainly at least a teenager, I’m pretty sure that the occasional “bad step” I’m seeing this spring is the result of an arthritic complaint—probably ringbone.

I didn’t vet Sunny when I bought him. I knew his history and I knew he was sound enough for the work I had for him. He has always trotted without a bob in a straight line. But I have always been aware that the horse was not 100% even, and that he needed plenty of warmup to move freely. (This is true of most older horses.) Even experienced horsemen couldn’t spot it watching him. But I knew it was there; I could feel it.

I’ve dealt with ringbone before (and navicular and various other arthritic complaints) in horses as they age, and I know the parameters. And the first parameter is that every horse is different. Every situation is different. There is no one “best path” that works for everyone (like most of life). Back when I was competing at team roping and my good horse, Gunner, came up slightly gimpy with a couple of arthritic complaints when he turned fourteen, I retired him to the pasture. But I’m not ready to do that with Sunny.

First off, Gunner was a sensitive horse who was a BIG baby about pain. I had buted this horse to use him for several years, due to the relatively minor problem of bone spavin in the hocks (and for those of you who will think I am a bad person for doing that, I would like to point out that Gunner is pasture sound today at thirty-one, so I don’t think I did him any harm— and I still own him and care for him). I was unwilling to up the bute dose when Gunner began to have navicular issues in one back foot. The other problem was that I wanted to compete at team roping, which was a strenuous event for a horse. I had no use for a “light riding” horse at the time. So I retired Gunner.

In Sunny’s case, he is a tough little trooper who is not in the least a big baby. All I use him for is very light riding in the ring and on the trail and he is still plenty sound enough for that. So, yes, in his case I am going to ride a slightly gimpy horse. And there are lots of other slightly gimpy older horses in the world who would make wonderful light riding horses for so many riders who are currently struggling with younger horses who have behavioral issues. These riders are not having fun. They are, quite frankly, scared. I read their blog posts (or talk to them) and it is easy to see that underneath the various things they say is a simple fact. They are not having much fun because they are anxious—afraid the horse will dump them, or at the very least, give them grief. Their interactions with their horses are very limited—because they are quite simply scared to just head out on a ride. And I don’t blame them. I often think that “so and so” would be having a lot more fun if they owned Sunny or Henry. But the Sunnys and Henrys of this world are mostly older horses who have been there and done that and most of them are likely to be a touch gimpy for this reason. Even if they’re just a little stiff before they’re warmed up.

Now I understand why people often choose a younger horse and try to be very sure there are no soundness problems, such as “incipient ringbone”. They hope that the horse will be with them as a sound riding horse for many more years than that older, slightly gimpy horse would be. And there is obviously some logic to this. But over and over again I have seen people overestimate what they are going to be comfortable coping with in a horse and essentially “overmount” themselves. Often they are people like me who once rode pretty well, and then took a break and came back to riding as an older person. Sometimes they’re just people who haven’t had a lot of experience. They buy a youngish horse that is said to be broke and gentle and at first it is fine. But then the young horse spooks or does some typical young horse thing that scares the rider. The rider is after this worried that the horse will do this again and nervous when they ride the horse. This anxiety creates responses from the rider that make the horse more anxious. And pretty quick the rider is not having any fun because she is scared and the horse is learning bad habits. This scenario usually does not end happily.

Why do people do this? A lot of times they are simply not aware that a young horses will almost inevitably have less than “solid” moments no matter how well broke they are. If you have ridden as many young horses as I have, you know this. If you haven’t, you might suppose that because the young horse was very well behaved when you tried him, he’ll always behave like that. Not so. Horses younger than eight almost inevitably have their less than perfectly behaved moments. Horses older than eight can certainly have these moments, too. But its pretty much a given with younger horses. It doesn’t mean the horse has a problem, necessarily. Its just part of the overall package that comes with a younger horse. (And yes, there are exceptions—though I personally have known very few.)

Another reason people buy a younger horse rather than the older, solid horse that would better fit their needs is ego. They don’t see themselves as needing a “bombproof” horse or a “babysitter”. They think they are a much better rider than that. Buying that old solid horse because he is more reliable feels demeaning to them.

Now I am the first to admit that for many years I, too, would have scorned to ride a babysitter. I trained young horses, I competed…etc. I didn’t need a solid, broke horse. I could train my own. But when I came back to riding after a several years break to have a child, I soon realized that my skills were not what they once were. And I realized something else. I didn’t want to work that hard. I didn’t want to take the chance I would come off and be hurt. I wanted to enjoy relaxing rides on a horse I trusted.

Oh, and lets not forget time. As the busy mother of a young child, I had/have very little time to work with a horse—and young horses need regular work. My riding time has to be fitted in around a full schedule, and sometimes I only manage to climb on once or twice a week. Younger horses usually do not thrive on such a pattern. I realized that at this point in my life I wanted and needed an older, solid horse, and was willing to accept slight gimpieness as a trade off. And this choice has worked well for me.

That doesn’t mean this is the right choice for everyone. If you feel relaxed and comfortable on your young horse despite his “young horse” moments, and you look forward to riding him, then you are doubtless in the right place. And I might be in your camp (if I had more time), except for the fact that for many years now my goal has been to have safe, non-eventful, fun trail rides with my son. I needed that solid horse to let me relax and keep my focus on my child, not be dealing with my horse. I did ride my boarder’s young horse occasionally for the last few years and realized I could still do a competent job of this. But I have to admit, I wasn’t drawn to it. Those who have similar emotions/situation to mine may want to give a good hard look at that solid older horse with a slight tendency to gimpieness.

So today I want to discuss how I decide what is an acceptable level of “gimpiness” for a light riding horse. And its actually pretty simple. The horse needs to trot in a straight line without a noticeable bob of the head. If he can do that, he’s sound enough for light riding. If he can’t do that once he is warmed up, then you need to address the lameness in some way in order to use him.

As for Sunny, if he is warmed up at the walk sufficiently, he trots without a head bob. However, if I pull him out of the pen and trot him “cold” (which I did last week to see where he was at) there is a slight bob. And that is new as of this spring. I have also seen the horse take the occasional “bad step” this spring, both in the corral and under saddle, so I am clear that his arthritic issue has progressed—as such issues almost inevitably do.

However, Sunny still runs and bucks and plays (a lot) at liberty, and once warmed up, trots freely up my long graveled driveway, without any bob at all. So I consider him sound enough for the work I have for him.

Now I could spend a lot of money getting Sunny “diagnosed” and then a bunch more money having whichever joint “infused”, and maybe it would help him. And, if he gets significantly worse, I may yet do that. But I’m not going to do it now, because I’ve been down that road before and frequently all that money spent does NOT help the problem.

What I plan to do is be observant, trim him regularly, make sure I notice any changes in behavior and soundness, and keep the horse within his comfort zone. In practice this means walking him a lot before I ask anything more of him, and I have always done that and will continue to do so. If I wanted to do something more strenuous with him (which I don’t) I would have to be more proactive about addressing this issue. But for those of you, like me, who enjoy not too strenuous trail rides, a slightly gimpy horse can usually do this and continue to enjoy it, if you are thoughtful.

Will Sunny get worse? Obviously I don’t know. I have known ringbone horses who got first worse and then better—the joint will sometimes fuse. There is no simple answer. But for those who are considering taking on a slightly gimpy older horse (due to arthritic issues), sometimes the horse gets worse and you can’t use him and sometimes he stays pretty stable and you get many years of happy riding. Sometimes you need to bute him or inject him and sometimes this can help a lot. Sometimes no matter what you do he gets worse. I’ve seen both. It’s a crapshoot. But so is all of life. Young horses who pass the vet check with flying colors can also come down with serious problems. If your intended use is light riding and you value being relaxed and do not want to struggle with training issues—these slightly gimpy older horses can be an extremely good deal—as they can often be had for not too much money.

Am I sorry that I bought Sunny? Not at all. I’ve had three marvelous years of happy trail rides with my son without one disaster or even one scary moment—thanks to Sunny and my son’s horse, Henry. No one, horse or human, has had so much as a scratch, and we have covered a lot of country in that time. I absolutely could not have done this without two rock solid horses—which are not all that easy to find. Coping with the fact that Sunny is getting slightly gimpy is a small price to pay for what I’ve been given. Have a look.

Sunny and me in the lupines.

Taking my son on a trail ride.

Riding with my little boy at the beach.

I guess this post is somewhat a repeat of my previous post. Look at all the joy that can be had in a rock solid older horse, even if that horse is a little bit gimpy. There are so many of these horses that both need and deserve a good home. I do understand that for some of you the sort of riding I am describing looks very tame and downright dull. I once felt the same way. Some of you want to do more exciting things and have a horse that is more of a training project; my little palomino plug would bore you. But if you’re looking for a horse for “light riding” and you just want to enjoy your horseback time and not work too hard, maybe see some pretty country, its worth thinking about. Anyone else have any gimpy horse stories to share?