1999: The Year of the Vet

After 4 more visits to Vibro's vet office of 6 yrs and every non-diagnosis in the book for chronic limping, I gave up on his old vet.  I didn't feel to badly about that since the Dr. he had been seeing for those 6 yrs had sold the business and wasn't there anymore.  I took Vibro to the vet that Flutter had been seeing, who diagnosed a rupture of Vibro's anterior cruciate in the left rear knee -- the same knee injury human athletes get.  This explains why no arthritis was found.  and why the pain killers didn't really do all that much except make him sick to his stomach.  Vibro tolerated the left knee surgery very well, even joining us at the LMSW flight test picnic one week after surgery.  By 7 weeks, he finally figured out he could use both legs and was tearing around the yard like his normal self.  And at 7 1/2 weeks, he blew out the right knee.
 

That was a mistake: Vibro and I had a very rough 3 weeks as he got depressed over his helplessness and developed an infection in the incision wound as well as a staph infection (jock itch, it seemed) in the inner thigh area dangerously close to the incision.  He's finally on the mend now and seems to almost use both legs.

Luckily, both Flutter and Mojave are strong and happy -- I don't think either my pocketbook or my emotions can handle any more vets this year...

Unfortunately, she was pooping and eating well for only about a day at home before she abruptly stopped the former and gradually stopped the latter.  At that point, it seemed apparent to her vet, Dr. Cathy Day, Maggie had an intestinal stone that had originally created a block and she had managed to move it.  but that now it was back in a bad spot.

Once again I was faced with a choice I couldn't seem to make: do I presume to know the inevitable and ask the vet to put her to sleep even though Maggie seemed to be relatively comfortable and out of pain (augmented by shots of pain killers we administered as needed)?  I hated every time I went out to check on her and she was laying down, growling at her stomach, but she always seemed to perk back up after the pain shot.

This Saturday just past, I finally figured I better do something about Vibro who had started limping around the same time Maggie got sick and he had only gotten worse as the three weeks had worn on.  He and I spent about 5 hours at his vet's office, taking xrays (luckily he doesn't seem to have arthritis or hip displacia, but perhaps is just too active and is experiencing muscle fatigue...).  Vibro's vet tranquilized him to take the xrays and then gave him a shot to pop him out of the anesthesia.  Unfortunately, Vibro had a bad reaction to this procedure and spent the next 9 hours trembling and whining, barely able to stand and unable to lay down comfortably.  He couldn't control his saliva and to his mortification, he actually peed himself at the Dr's office.  The doctor had thought this reaction would only last 30 - 60 minutes, but he was still wacko after 2 hours, so we drove back to the office. and the doctor basically said "I don't know what's going on with your dog. either for this reaction or for his limping.  If he's not himself in the morning or goes into seizure, take him to the emergency vet.  Without blood work, I can't tell if there is some systemic problem causing the limping or this reaction."

Oh great.

Vibro and I returned home, where I found Maggie once again lying on the ground (and she wouldn't let me give her a pain shot, either).  Outside, horse in pain and inside, dog who was drooling, whining, crying and
trembling, sometimes pacing, sometimes just standing and staring at nothing -- he seemed like a person who has had way too much caffeine and wishes the room would stop moving.  I wasn't a happy camper.  And every time I walked out of the room, I started worrying I would come back to find Mojave getting into it with Flutter, just to make it Four of A Kind.  It wasn't until about 10pm that he was able to lie down and sleep.  And he was pretty much his normal self the next morning. but still limping and creaking and sometimes he seems to have some problem swallowing...

He has a prescription of Rimadyl for the muscle pain (also good for arthritis). So, after finding Maggie lying down again (but this time she let me give her a shot), I went out Sunday to replace his doggie door -- it seemed to me that the door he had was probably contributing to the problem, since it was no larger than the one at Mom's house and was sitting directly on the floor.  I got a new one that has a larger flap and also sits about 5 inches off the floor, so he doesn't have to crouch much to get through it.

Of course, installing this door gave me an opportunity to watch Maggie all day long and it was apparent that the pain killer wasn't getting rid of her discomfort -- she was laying down and moaning most of the day.  I couldn't give her another pain shot until 12 hours: 8pm.  Around 5p, she gave some horrible horse scream, got up and started trotting around.  By 6p, she was laying down again and I made the call to the vet and left a message saying that I thought it was time to schedule putting her to sleep.  When she called back, we decided to do it either Monday or Tuesday morning depending on the guy I had spoken to about burying her.  From the window I could see she was mostly standing at this time, so I hoped she was not experiencing much pain.

When I went out at 8p to give her a shot (I had long since given up going out to actually feed her), she was standing in her shelter and I hoped she would let me give her the shot.  It was pretty dark and it took until I was only a few feet away for me to see how distressed she was.  She was panting heavily, very hot and sweaty and trembling all over.  She looked at me as if to say "make it stop, already!".  I gave her a shot, but I knew it wasn't enough and that she was really suffering now.  I felt sooo horrible that I had waited so long as to make her actually go through the pain of dying. And here it was, 8:30p Valentine's Day and, from our earlier conversation, I knew the doctor had a sick little girl with a 105 fever.

Lucky for us, the Dr. Cathy offered to leave her daughter (whose fever was down) and husband (who was unexpectedly home from his truck driving job) on Valentine's at 8:30p to help us out.  It didn't take her very long to tell that Maggie had started to 'crash and burn' and she went to get the lethal shot from her truck while I tried to lead Maggie up to her favorite hill where I intended to have her buried.  The shelter was not a good spot since there is no way to control her fall and the structure isn't very secure. Maggie couldn't make it up the hill -- the poor thing.  and I was sooooo sad, but still relieved when she was given the shot and she was soon out of her pain, finally.  After some crying and a well placed hug, we propped Maggie up against some rolls of chicken wire (stomach up and exposed) in preparation for the necropsy procedure the next day.

In the morning, the truly kind man who pretty much uses his earth moving equipment to bury our horses as a favor (i.e., for free, donation for the diesel fuel) came by from his home 20 miles away.  He brought a behemoth backhoe and scooper combo thing and negotiated the drive through those double gates beside my house and down the steep hills with a finesse that was as amazing as it was considerate.  This guy was recommended by everyone for property grading and his help with horse burials, so I had called him a couple of weeks earlier (947-DIRT!).  Turns out, he works for LM Skunk Works also. on the X-33 program, also...  in B704 where I work, as well.  We were both surprised to find out we work about 50 feet and half a floor away from each other.  His earth moving business is booming and fills his mornings before he comes to work at X-33 second shift.

On monday, he had 3 grading jobs to work before his 3pm shift, but he still found time to come to my house and work around the vet's procedure in the morning.  He dug the hole and waited as Dr. Cathy took on the nasty task of rooting through Maggie's insides to find out finally what killed her.  Poor Maggie -- her intestines had obviously ruptured on Sunday night, making me all the more grateful that the doctor had been willing to come out the night before.  I can only imagine how horrible that death would have been had it run the full course.  In short time, the culprit was found: Maggie had indeed developed a 8-10 inch diameter very round stone inside her intestinal tract.  We don't really know what causes such things and it takes several years to build to such a size.  At this point, it really doesn't matter how or why or when, I guess.

Anyways, Dr.Day stuffed her insides back in, sewed her up and we watched Mr. Dirt Adjuster manipulate a 6 x 5 foot backhoe scoop around her body, gently pushing aside the rolls of chicken wire and as delicate as plucking a
fragile flower, he scooped Maggie up.  I was somewhat glad to be occupied with walking Dr. Day out to her truck -- I don't think I needed to see Maggie put into that 8 foot deep hole (although I'm sure it was as softly as possible).  By the time I got back up there, the hole was filled back in and I think my property got some nice ground maintenance in the bargain.  and the huge equipment (which he brought on an enormous flatbed truck/trailer with a buddy to help) gingerly exited the property.

Closing the up the back fence, I realized I no longer need the complicated bike lock to prevent Maggie's butt scratching from opening the gate. and that made me sad (I locked it, anyways...)  I let Vibro and Mojave out of the garage (that's right, I locked em both up during this, since I was not going to risk losing the cat who hasn't yet ventured out the backyard) and we went into the house.  It was only noon, but I had taken the whole day off and I really didn't feel like going in to work.

All afternoon, I found myself picking up the phone to call one or the other of you to tell my story.  but I found I couldn't.  so, instead, you all get the saga in writing.  and maybe this will help me through this loss.

As Jessica put it, Maggie's introduction and place in my life was a lifelong fantasy come true: I couldn't believe I actually 'had a horse'!  It is unlikely that I will have another, since I never did get around to riding or training or any other traditional horse owner things.  I had been extremely lucky that an intelligent, healthy, strong, gentle and funny horse came to me, since I really would not have known what to do with a stupid, sickly, mean and nasty one.

Having this fantasy come to an end apparently affects me deeply, since I'm totally bummed and often weepy, still.  I miss seeing Maggie on top of the hill, ears up and eyes bright as she followed the train through the Santa Clara riverbed below.

and only very reluctantly can I give up "I have a horse" to "I once had a horse".
 
 
 

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