Back in 2022 during a routine tooth inspection, Lord Ben, my veteran ex-racer, was diagnosed with EOTRH, and I knew it was a time bomb on Ben being able to keep eating. With regular dental and pain management, Ben spent nearly two years living life to the full and retired in April 2023 due to his increasing blindness.
He was so happy and relaxed during his retirement, and I was so happy to be able to give this horse the downtime he so deserved at 19 years old, following a successful 12-year race career and taking me to BD Novice level in his retraining. In the autumn of 2023, we noticed his teeth were deteriorating and he was no longer able to eat treats like carrots and hay. I was monitoring the situation vigorously until I thought there was no longer any quality of life, because what I owed him after a lifetime of service for our enjoyment was an enjoyable retirement and not a moment of pain or suffering.
It struck me that I didn’t really know how to say goodbye. I was riddled with guilt and doubt if I would know when the time was right. Would I be selfish and drag out the situation? There was the social pressure of taking hair, keeping ashes and his last pair of shoes, and I felt so overwhelmed with emotion. Then I realised: this was a privilege! This wasn’t an emergency situation, this wasn’t a horrible injury or the dreaded colic, this wasn’t the middle of the night, this wasn’t stressed and panicked, this was as good as any goodbye was ever going to get, and after 29 years of horses I know how rare the privilege was!
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed Ben was struggling to eat the hay/haylage. Luckily, he has a love of the Spillers Senior Mash, and as a fully balanced diet this was the perfect replacement, but I knew that not being able to eat with his herd meant it was time. I was able to pick a lovely sunny day for him to enjoy his rug off, the sun on his back, and nice groom and a cuddle (he was the best for cuddles and they are the thing I will miss the most) and as much mash as he could physically eat.
In these final moments, I am reminded of the privilege I have. The most effective goodbye you can provide your horse is a lifetime commitment, the best care and the most love you can give. And if you do that, when that dreaded day inevitably arrives, you’ve already said the best goodbye.
Once again I threw Arlo in at the deep end, affiliating him purely for the Arena UK second round show, and once again he pulled it out the bag. How lucky am I to have such a wonderful little horse? We haven’t really competed this year. I don’t really compete over the winter, and also my horsebox was away for repairs up until the beginning of June, so I had no transport even if I’d wanted to.
With the dry ground we don’t seem to be having much luck with shoes, as little madam managed to pull both her front shoes off within 12 hours the other day! We entered the arena with two shoes on for a schooling session and left it with one missing (took about an hour to find it). Then that afternoon, as I went to put some hoof ointment on, I looked down and had to double take, thinking I was looking at the wrong hoof. But, no, the other shoe was missing too.
After having a long wait and some lunch at the onsite café, it was time to get ready for the Joan Wolfe Overall Supreme Shetland Pony Championship. I got changed out of my usual showing outfit into black trousers and a maroon top with white spots, as you are expected to be a bit more “bling” in the evening.
We were all set to go for our next outing, and were super excited. That was until I heard the dreaded clunk of a loose shoe! I checked it over, praying it wasn’t too loose, but, nope, it was going to need a refit.