Sitting under the now leafless trees with a hot cuppa tea this morning… I’m reflecting on the past few days. It’s Wednesday. On Friday, LungTa went downhill. He was lethargic that morning. His anorexia had left him thin and not well hydrated. I was doing everything I could to get nutrients in him by dose syringing oils and vitamins into his mouth… magnesium and colloidal silver, all the things I had been doing for three full months with soaked feeds, dry feeds, all kinds of hay and a water bar, keeping him alive while hoping his kidneys would heal.
The day before, he had been perky. He visited with his herd through the fence of the round yard. He looked for grass to munch that had now all died back. He drank water and even almost trotted back to his stall in the Infirmary. I was not expecting what happened at noon.
Our surveillance cameras caught it. All I saw from the house was him lying down… I had gone inside to have lunch. He had not laid down for months and I knew he was sleep deprived – for a moment I thought it was a good thing, he was resting. But my rational mind realized it was not good. I called Mark and ran to the barn. LungTa could not get up.
Our friend Sarah came and the three of us tried to help him up with ropes around his haunches. We quickly learned that he had no strength. Inside the stall and under him in the pen was copious, thick urine with tiny crystal-like stones… he was passing them. He was in pain. I gave him pain killers. It was the day after Thanksgiving, no Veterinarians were available. There was no way to transport him to a hospital if he could not stand. I settled in to keep him drugged until we could find someone to euthanize him.
We found the video of how he had collapsed… probably as the first stones hit as they passed. Watching it once was enough. All I could do was cry and wish that I had let him go sooner. Hindsight… it’s always a bitch. Yet, he had been improving. A “crystal ball” would have been handy.
So, I sat with him. We put hay bales behind him for support. We took down fence panels to give him (and me) more room. We covered him with blankets (he was wearing a good one, it’s been so cold these days). I gave him tranquilizers. Being “sedated” seemed a good thing for him. I kept stacking his painkillers. He needed to be oblivious. As night fell, I started fluids subcutaneously – I could not find a vein at that point. We piled padding under his head. Mark set up a camera directly over him.
At midnight, LungTa died. It seemed peaceful enough. Like going deeply to sleep. After three months of literally living beside him, day and night, I felt so empty. He was probably around 26 years old… he spent the last 6+ years with us in sanctuary. He had been bound for slaughter. With us, he had known joy living in the herd. With us, he knew pure love. He had scars on his eyes and at some point, in his past, his jaw had been broken. Here, we cared for all his needs. And I felt so empty… he was gone.
Saturday morning, we had him buried. I placed an Amethyst crystal with him. The herd stood around all day and night, in reverence.
On Monday morning, Phoebe, our beloved very old Great Pyr dog appeared to have had a stroke. It turned out that she had a vestibular disease (of the inner ear and brain) but trying to treat it would only have delayed the inevitable. At over 15 years old, she had had a good life, full of love and joy. Her hips were failing, and we had the mobile Vet euthanize her. It was peaceful, Phoebe was ready. The lovely Vet and her Tech helped us bury her. I put a crystal heart with her.
As I sip my tea and contemplate this life with very old animals, I have come to the conclusion it is an honor, not a burden. The certainty is that we will be losing them. At some point, their quality of life diminishes, and the ultimate kindness is to let them go. Sometimes we have no warning, sometimes it becomes a slow realization… we would never give up knowing them to avoid the pain of losing them. Sometimes, I feel like a midwife to the next life. What an honor that actually is.
Stablewomen 