A Really good horse

I lost one of my best friends today- a 27 yr. old 3/4 Arab, 1/4 Quarter Horse red roan mare.  She'd been with me for 19 yrs.- purchased one year after my mother died- in an effort to bond with my 9 yr. old daughter (who was still having a difficult time losing HER best friend- her grandmother). 

Dakota Skye, who's registered name was Tazmara, was a lovely mare- the perfect size at 14.2 hands.  She was pressure trained, with a rocking horse canter- so willing, and gentle that I rode her with a hackamore  but, I could make her prance, and show off when I wanted to impress people.  She always made me look good.  On trails, we called her the sightseer, because she'd constantly swing her head from side to side, so she could take in everything!  Dakota loved her grain, and she would actually tip the pan with one hoof, and lick the bowl until she'd gotten every last drop. 

 When I found her, yesterday, laying down... I wasn't immediately concerned.  Dakota would OFTEN lie down like that, scaring me to death when she wouldn't rouse herself when I called to her.  But it soon became evident that something was drastically wrong this time. Although she was breathing, each breath was raspy, her lips were drawn back over her teeth, her heart and respiratory rate was too fast. She looked like she was dying.  When I implored her to stand up, she did!  but her back legs were wobbly, and she was disoriented.  She almost walked into the barn wall, turned and walked into the chicken coop wall.... then, she was down again.  This happened over and over throughout the day, a roller coaster of intense emotion- except that each time she got up, she seemed a bit stronger, and stayed up a bit longer.  But then she would lie down, and we were certain, once again, that she was taking her last breaths.  At one point, Wynter came to her, nudging her, and Journey put her nostril to Dakota's nostril and blew softly- allowing Dakota to catch her scent- telling her she was with her.  Bruce drove like a maniac to pick up some Banamine (pain killer for horses) from a good friend.  Later, Chelsey and I drove in to pick up more.  The Vet was unavailable until this morning, so we were on our own.  I was positive it was a stroke, and that she was coming out of it.  The most worrisome part was that she would not eat or drink, but I was certain, that given another day, she would.  When Chelsey and I went down to check on her around midnight, she recognized my voice and nickered to me. And when I woke at 7 am, and she was still on her feet in the stall, I was optimistic, relieved, happy. But then, an hour and a half later, she was down again, and although she struggled to her feet for me, she was weak, trembling, and unsteady on her feet.  I began to dread the Vet's visit but still thought if he could just give her an appetite stimulant to get her eating, things would be ok. 

When Mike pulled up, he was prepared to save her from her stroke with fluids, medicines, etc.  but when he looked at her, he began to suspect she wasn't suffering from a neurological problem.  After various tests, each one giving us bad to worse news, he would explain what he was afraid had happened.  She suffered from a blockage high up in her intestines, either from an embolism, or twisted gut.  This caused her intestines to rupture, and she was dying from peritonitis.  She would not survive a surgery that would take her from her home and family because she was in too poor a condition for anesthesia.... and the surgery had only a 20% chance of being able to cure her in the best situation.  He waited for my decision.  I could leave her in pain, until she died on her own, or I could have the Vet ease her passing.

There was no decision, really.  I could not save her, no matter how hard I tried, but I could allow her one last wish.  At one time, when she'd collapsed in the hot sun, and strained to breathe, Chelsey and I sponged her with cool water.  Bruce came up with the idea of creating some shade for her.  He retrieved an old tarp, and was going to string it up, when she got on her feet, and let me lead her into her cool stall.  Ever since she'd been in the stall, however, she'd been wanting back out.  I kept her inside, because I wanted her shaded, protected without our other two mares bothering her- but now, I decided to let her out.  The Vet agreed to wait.

I opened the gate, and Dakota started walking, a bit unsteadily, to all her favorite places-  the water trough where she would stare up at the house, and wait for me to come feed her, along the fence to her favorite grazing areas, into the trees where she'd spend hot summer days, or wait out storms.  She checked in with her buddy, Journey, and mouthed some grass without really eating it.  She just walked, while we watched, for at least 15 min. and then, she turned, and walked straight back to me.  I hugged her, and stroked her, and told her how much I loved her, and after standing for a minute or two, she slowly sank to her knees and laid down.  It was time.  Chelsey and I held her, thanked her, told her again that we loved her.  I blew into her nostrils, and and kept my hands on her so she knew I was with her.  When she left us, I looked up and through my tears saw Journey and Wynter standing in a line.  Journey came up to Dakota first, while Wynter waited her turn.  She touched her nose, her neck, and her stomach before turning away.  Then, Wynter stepped forward and touched her, too- finally just resting her muzzle against Dakota's side. 

A few more things need to be noted here.  Every day I receive an email affirmation from Deepak Chopra.  I hate to admit that I never read them- in fact, I usually delete them without even opening them because they are usually something that I don't understand, or don't really believe- (this in spite of the fact that I love Deepak Chopra... It's just the things they choose to send out... *shrugs*  weird stuff).  After I came back up to the house, I opened up my email, and the message from Deepak Chopra opened.  Today I read it.... and it said "Freedom is letting go."  I am taking that as my sign that Dakota (our Kota Bear) is free, running without pain with her buddy Koosa.  It was the last gift I could give her. 

Later this evening, we had an excavator come out and dig a grave in our pasture.  I locked Journey and Wynter in the round pen to keep them out of the way.  When it was over, I released them from the corral, and Wynter darted out- a horse on a mission.  She very deliberately strode over to the stall and peeked inside.  This was the time of day when Dakota got her grain, and Wynter was definitely looking for her.  When she wasn't there, she walked over to where the excavator had been, and not finding her friend, she turned to watch the large truck driving down the driveway.  Wynter whinnied to the truck, obviously thinking it had taken her friend, before going back to stand where she'd last seen Dakota's body.  Journey, also, checked out the stall, and not finding her buddy, walked slowly, nose down sniffing, at the place where Dakota had lain.  She paced the length where the body had been, sniffing loudly, then, she lifted her head to follow the excavator as it drove away.  She went back to sniffing, like a blood hound, following the drag marks where Dakota had been taken away.  Then, the two remaining mares, touched noses, and stood together.  You'll never make me believe that animals don't grieve, or feel emotion.

We love you, Kota Bear.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing your life with us.