He just stood there, head hanging down, eyes unfocused. His rib cage was visible under his coat and his long coarse mane hung in a matted tangled mess. He appeared worn out and broken down. This was my first look at the horse my daughter Paula wanted me to buy for her. 'Dad, his name is 'Rip-Off' she said excitedly. Rip-Off...? The hairs on my neck stood straight up. What kind of name is 'Rip-Off'? I guess it should have been self explanatory. Any normal person would turn and run but, the bond between the two had formed and I didn't want to break that. Paula was spending time with friends that were having a negative effect. This horse could be the answer to keeping her occupied with something positive. I bought him the same day. We made arrangements with the farm owner to keep 'Rip' boarded there. Paula's chores at the farm would pay for his stall and feed.
My decision proved to be the right one. Paula spent nearly all free time at the farm tending to her horse. She was happy. She nursed him back to health. His appearance improved greatly as did his overall demeanor. He was a gentle giant at 16 hands. As time went on she started entering him in horse shows. He did whatever she asked of him. Never refused her. They even won a few ribbons. As time went on, some of his former life experiences starting catching up. He came up lame and we later on discovered he had been used as a hunter jumper and fox hunter. The constant jumping had taken it's toll and injured his front leg. Now the lameness reappeared. Close examination showed navicular disease. An inflammation that causes lameness in horses. We stopped the shows and made the decision to trail ride him on the wooded trails in the area. It would be easier on his leg. He enjoyed the trail rides and the attention. The leg, though an issue, was managed with the help of our veterinarian.
About eight years ago I purchased property across the road from where Rip was boarded. I had enough land to bring him home with us. We cleared a paddock put up a fence and built a shelter. He took to it right away. Lots of shade plenty of room. Things worked out so well we tried introducing a rescue horse to keep him company. At first things seemed fine but, in a short time he would be dominated by the new arrival. He was a gentle sort and didn't fare well. He began staying at the far end of the paddock while the other horse took over the shelter and food. This was not working out. I made arrangements to return the rescue horse and Rip appeared to be happiest living alone.
For the next several years life was good for Rip. Paula, though still very dedicated to his well being, didn't ride as much. we were concerned with his age. We estimated it around 30. Many horses this age exhibit swayback and usually have other health problems. Rip didn't fit this profile. His body weight was good and his coat had an even sheen. Overall his look was that of a healthy middle aged horse. We decided to retire him from riding. We took him for walks on the trails. I especially liked this. It's was an awesome feeling having an animal this large and powerful walking alongside me at a brisk pace. Kind of like walking a really, really big dog.
Now it's winter of last year. It's seemed to go on forever. Cold windy and icy. I make my way out to the paddock carrying a bucket of fresh drinking water. Something's wrong. He's not his usual place waiting for me. I find him behind his shelter. At first, everything seems ok. As I get closer I can hear his labored breathing. It's hard to see. The sun has set. I'm getting nervous. I go back to house and get a flashlight. I return and as I approach him I see blood in his nostrils and on his muzzle. My heart skips. I try to walk him into his stall for a better look. He won't move. His breathing is not improving. Now I'm on the phone calling the Veterinarian. I'm shouting...get over here now!! He arrives thirty minutes later. He quickly examines Rip. Oh no...the vet is shaking his head. What!...He's not sure what the problem is but, he tells me that Rip is in distress. There is nothing he can do to help him. Nothing he can do comfort him. He looks at me and says 'it's time'. I knew instantly what he meant. My knees went wobbly. I was starting to feel I'll. Paula, no...WE.. were going to lose one of our most precious possessions. 'Can we wait until Paula gets here?' I asked the vet. She was at work miles from home. He just shook his head and said 'no time'. This is so difficult...so very difficult. I'm having a hard time typing this blog....
I'm standing in front of him now caressing his muzzle. He's looking at me with almost knowing eyes. He's calm. I whisper to him ' I'm sorry bud...it'll be ok...it's ok'. The vet is standing near me and I know what's next. Slowly Rip bows down on his front knees then completely lies down.The tranquilizer is taking effect. He seems relaxed. The vet. injects the final drug and suddenly...quickly it's done. This horse our family so loved for so long is gone. It's the first time I ever cried openly in front of another person. I didn't care. I felt no shame.
He's buried in our back yard, in the same paddock he spent so many happy years. A stone marker is in place. In some strange way, it's comforting to have him there. He's still feels close to us. I look out my bedroom window and, sometimes, I can imagine him standing there waiting for me to come and visit with him...We miss you Rip-Off.
Note: Some may question why I wrote this blog. The answer is, I felt by writing this and making it available for all to read it will perpetuate his memory. I hope is does. Jake T
