Married with Horses: Digging Deep
We've been doing a lot of digging lately.
Kimberly and I made some late additions to the garden. We dug a lot of holes and dropped in new plants. Then we dug up the large weeds and simply pulled out the rest. "Organic" means more work, but we're comfortable with that.
Some of the digging has been for the new foaling stall. The big posts have to be set deep and concreted before the walls can go up. Mandy watches me dig from her new pasture (the grassless riding ring).
"It's not going to finish itself," she says as she lumbers past with her pendulous, foal-filled belly.
"Grab a shovel," I respond, wiping about a gallon of sweat from my forehead. Mandy pretends not to hear me.
The toughest digging, however, was for Kit's grave.
She lost her appetite a few weeks ago and we'd begun hand feeding her, though soon she was refusing that--even when we offered her bacon. Kit was severely congested and the vet wasn't sure if it was allergies or an illness, so he gave us antibiotics. She'd never had seasonal allergies before, and we figured the antibiotics might make her feel better and restore her appetite.
Because the antibiotics don't work with an empty stomach, we had to make "dog food soup" with her canned food and feed her with a syringe twice a day. The food--and the antibiotics--stayed down. After three days her congestion cleared, but her appetite only barely returned.
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We'd offer Kit her "soup" in a bowl, she'd lick it once or twice and just stare at us. Kit not eating is as unusual as Vander or I not eating. If I wanted to really scare Kimberly, I wouldn't sneak up on her or put on a frightening costume, I'd just casually refuse dinner. And I could probably expect a hospital helicopter to land in our front yard a few moments later.
Because Kit was still going to the barn, climbing stairs and going to the bathroom normally, we figured she might pull through as she had all the other times her health took a turn downward. We continued feeding her and giving her the antibiotics.
On the fifth day of syringe feeding Kit, she was doing well. She took her breakfast fine and spent some time outside in the sun before heading inside for a nap.
Kimberly and were working next door in the office and I returned to the house for an extension cord. Kit had pooped on the floor (nothing too unusual) but was agitated and making strange whining-growling noises. She still stressed sometimes when she peed or pooped in the house. I petted her reassuringly, let her outside and she instantly quieted down.
She stood quietly in the sunlight in the back yard for a moment. Then Kit began wheezing and immediately seemed unable to breathe. She fell over in the grass. Kimberly wasn’t answering the office phone or her cell. (I think that’s what I dialed.) I yelled for her at the top of my lungs as I ran to the office. As I approached the office, I caught a glimpse of Hazel running away from our property and into the woods.
Kimberly and I sat with Kit for a few minutes that seemed more like several hours because her belabored breathing frightened us and there were no clinics close enough to help her and now we were worried that she was suffering and that we should have been less selfish and simply put her down when she stopped eating.
My hand was on Kit's chest when her heart stopped. Just like that, her 16 years had come to a close. I felt the normal thing to do was to keep petting her like nothing had happened. It made me feel a little better.
I was still stroking Kit's head when Claudia arrived. Kimberly called Claudia first thing, but Kit died before Claudia could grab her emergency supplies and drive the mile and half to our house. If Kit hadn't gone quickly, we knew Claudia would have something to make her more comfortable.
Claudia joined us in the shady spot in the grass beside Kit. We sat there for a long while, telling stories about Kit and hearing about some of the animals Claudia had lost. Hazel appeared beside the riding ring and watched us for a while. Hazel loves Claudia and loves joining us when we're in the yard, but she kept her distance. It was clear she knew what had happened.
I'd never lost a dog before this. Unfortunately, it took losing Kit for me to finally understand exactly why Claudia and Jack--or any other animal lovers--spoil their animals like they do. Their animals get guidance and discipline, but they also get a lot of very special treatment.
