Stepping Up, Letting Go

I had this great post planned for this week about how well Kachina's been doing in training, her first interaction with a cow, a practice penning we did on Sunday, the holiday...

But I just found out that Rico -- who in only the span of a month has developed a large growth that is very likely an advanced form of cancer -- will need to be put down. Suddenly the thought of writing a light, fun post flew out the window (just typing the words "put down" just now gave me a sudden wave of nausea).

I got the news yesterday, and was told that an appointment had been made for today, and that a vet from the track would do it, and then..take him away. I knew that the decision was coming up, but I had no idea that it would be so sudden, or that I would have less than a day's worth of time to come to terms with it.

P and I went out to see him yesterday, and feed him lots and treats, let him spend time with Gypsy and just be with him a while. My mother and her boyfriend came out to see him, too, but I noticed that there was something strange about the way they talked around me. Finally, she said to me: "I don't want you coming out here tomorrow. Don't come." I protested that I had already made arrangements to be there, and that I didn't want him to be alone. But she just kept asking me, very adamantly, not to come. "Promise me that you won't come, please." Suspicious, I pressed her until she finally told me: "They're going to take him around the back and shoot him."

After the initial shock, I tried to assure her that our stable manager had arranged for a vet to come out and put him down. She only shook her head and told me that the manager himself had told her that the plan was to take the money, then take him around the back of the stable and shoot him. I was furious. They lied to me, and they lied to my grandmother, who was under the impression that her horse -- a horse who had once belonged to the manager's wife! -- was going to be put down properly and humanely. It wasn't a vet they'd called, but some yahoo with a pistol and a pickup truck.

Of course, there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. I immediately called my grandmother, then the manager, and made him cancel the appointment (it's hard to stay professional when you're that angry). I couldn't believe that they would flat-out lie to us, especially in regards to something so important and heartbreaking, knowing how much we love our horses. That stable has never been paradise for horses, but I was ill at the thought of such blatant disregard for not only the treatment of the horses, but the feelings of it's boarders (not to mention that they've known my family for a few decades!). This is why I'd never take Maverick back there.

But, I'll get off my soap box.

I plan to call UC Davis today. Mom said she would help me haul Rico there, and I've made arrangements to take the day off from work. It's strange, in the course of only a few hours, I've gone from not knowing, to being afraid to be present, to spearheading the entire task. But under all the weight and sadness (and there's a lot of it), I feel a little better -- a little lighter -- knowing that I'll be making sure that he has a proper, easy and peaceful sendoff, surrounded by people who love him and with kind, knowledgeable doctors who care.

I owe him that much, at least.