The Story

I finally have a few minutes to tell the story behind the downfall of Mr. I Be Streakin'. It took about a week for everything to happen. Thank goodness LaNell was here for most of that time. I would have had a really hard time if I would have had to take the girls with me for all of the appointments I had for him. Each day that week presented something new or different so I'm going to break it down by the day.

Wednesday, Feb. 18th - Evening. I B is acting a little under the weather. After checking him out, I head to mutual. By the time I get back, he's acting pretty normal so I decide to wait out the night and see how he is in the morning.

Thursday, Feb. 19th - Allen wakes me and tells me the horse is doing really poorly. I run out to check and he hasn't eaten any dinner, hasn't pooped or had any water. After looking him over, I realize I cannot fix this with pain meds alone and decide to haul him in to the vet's office. I tried to get someone to look after the girls, but no one was available. Allen had to take the morning off from work.

At the vet's we tubed him with water and mineral oil to help move anything along that was stuck. His gut was working pretty slowly so we were trying to help it along. He was also dehydrated. We drew blood, but everything came back normal. We gave him some pain meds, too, to keep him comfy. His pulse, respiratory rate, and gum color/refill was normal. After the treatment, he seemed all right and was eager to eat and drink so we went home and kept an eye on him. He seemed to be improving so we figured it was a mild case of colic.

Friday, Feb. 20th - He's starting to look a little under the weather again in the evening. Again, I watch him and try to make it until morning.

Saturday, Feb. 21st - I call the vet again and he says we can put him on fluids, but the best thing would be to manage the pain since it seems mild. I get some Banamine so I'll make it through the weekend. With the drugs, he seems to perk up again.

Sunday, Feb. 22nd - Allen runs in after feeding that evening and says the horse can't even walk. He hasn't eaten anything in 2 feeds, either. He describes a stance typical of founder. I hustle out and see that he is moving, but seems like he's drunk. He can't organize his feet. I feel around and feel some heat in his feet. That indicates a potential founder. This is the night we put in him the kiddie pool. I gave him some Banamine and he eats his hay and drinks a lot of water that night so he seems to be ok with regard to his tummy.

I called my regular vet who told me his x-ray machine was down. So, I called another vet and then my farrier. The new vet (who I continued to see for the duration of the illness) tells me to meet him at the clinic at 8:30 a.m. My farrier meets tells me he'll meet me there.

Monday, Feb. 23rd. - I head out with the horse first thing in the morning. He's had a steady decline in hydration, gut activity, and overall condition overnight. The vet does an examination noticing his gut has ceased to function, he's really dehydrated, and seems uncomfortable. He draws blood, gives him some pain meds, and puts him on IV fluids. This is when the ulcer diagnoses is given. The horse is showing all of the classic signs of ulcers in horses. As a breeding stallion, he is susceptible to high levels of stress and we did move him last year from him home of 18 years. I can get a scope to make a definite determination if the ulcers are in the stomach. If they are in the colon, we have no way of being sure. He stays at the clinic for the day on fluids and we start him on the prevacid. That evening, he seems to be quite a bit better.

Tuesday, Feb. 22nd - He's not 100%, but I expect the medication to need a day or two to do it's magic. I start researching options for treatment as the recommended maximum course of medication is about $1400 for one month. We keep a close eye on him. He is still not eating, drinking or pooping.

Wednesday, Feb. 23rd - I run into the vet's office that afternoon to tidy up some business. The vet asks how my horse is doing. I told him we had seen no improvement and I would need to bring him in and put him on fluids to keep him alive. We agree I'll come in first thing in the morning. At dinner time, I clip I Be, braid his mane and give him a good brush. I have a sinking feeling this may be our last night together. I figure if I'm going to have to put him down, I will at least have him leave us looking good. He seems happy and starts eating for the first time in 2 days. I hope the meds are finally helping him.

Thursday, Feb. 22nd - When I get there, we do an ultrasound and plan to do a liver biopsy. Because of his staggering walk, we figure there may be a problem with his toxin level even though the blood work shows nothing abnormal. While doing the ultrasound, the vet sees that his guts are where his diaphragm is. Definitely not normal. He thinks it's possible the horse has a diaphragmatic hernia - a hole was caused by some trauma to his diaphragm and his guts made their way inside and have proceeded to die in there. But, the guts do lie very close to the respiratory system in that location. Also, the only treatment is to put him down. He suggests a second opinion. After all, there are no second chances when the treatment is death.

He calls a clinic in ABQ that has a very high end ultrasound and x-ray set up. It's now just about noon. They can see me at 2 p.m. I decide to head up there, try to eat some lunch and go to the clinic.

When I pull him out of the trailer, the vet says, "He must have been a fine specimen in his day." At this point, I Be has lost about 150 lbs, his ribs are beginning to show, his eyes are sucked so far into his skull that when he chews, they move in and out with his jaw, and his hair is falling out. He quietly makes his way into the exam room. The x-ray shows nothing abnormal. So, his guts are not in his diaphragm. The ultrasound shows nothing abnormal in the front half. We check in one more spot near his flank. We are supposed to see some spleen and kidney. We see a small part of the spleen and a whole lot of colon. This is not a good thing. It seems as though the colon has gotten itself up and over the spleen and strangulated. There is nothing I can do for the horse at this point. He's 20 and in dire condition. Surgery would run us about $10,000 and he would probably die on the operating table.

I decide to bring him home and have him put down at the vet's here in town. I page him and let him know I'm coming home. The vet's dad is now in the hospital with heart problems, but he tells me he'll call me when they are done and meet me at the clinic. On the way home, I dropped I Be at the vet's and unhooked my rig at home. While at home, I cleaned up the barn, dumped the water troughs and emptied the feeder knowing I won't be going out to the barn for a long, long time.

Around 6:30 p.m., we get the call. Allen and I head over. Allen had never been around an animal being put to sleep. I warned him a bit about how it is for horses. When we get there, the doctor is waiting by the stall. I Be perks his head up and has a little shine in his eyes. He seems to be feeling better. But, we can see from the explosive diarrhea on the stall wall, that he is starting to crash and burn. The vet asks me if I'm sure. We can keep him alive on fluids, but he will eventually need to be euthanized. I know all of this and tell him to go ahead. We back him into the corner and the vet asks me to hold the lead rope while he administers the overdose of anesthesia.

I Be's head jerks up as the drugs hit his veins. He then falls like a tree to the ground. He curls up in the fetal position and starts to have some convulsions. His lips pull back in a grimace and his tongue falls out of his mouth. After about 30 seconds, his body relaxes and coughs a handful of times. I know this is just part of the process; that the body is reacting to death but my horse is long gone. After about 3 minutes, all goes quiet. His ears are perked up like he's just seen or heard something fantastic. It's just like him to be joyful in the face of death.

Wednesday, March 4th - I get the full autopsy report from the vet. A small piece of wire punctured his colon. I figure it is a piece of baling wire or fencing wire. No, smaller than that. The undoing of my horse was the size wire you find in a trash bag tie.

In an effort to heal itself, the colon had attached itself to the belly wall once it was punctured in an attempt to seal off the wound. The entire colon was adhered to the length of his belly wall. He also had severe inflammation of the lining of his gut.

Most horses with this severity of injury would have a very high white blood cell count indicating the infection. Additionally, they would show sings of distress such as kicking, thrashing, rolling violently, sweating profusely, and an elevated respiration and heart rate. I Be never had any of those symptoms. He quietly suffered an unbelievable amount of pain. The vet says in his 26 years of practice had never seen anything like it. I Be was the toughest horse he had ever seen.

I Be Streakin' was a gentleman to the end. He was pleasant, easy to handle, quiet and obedient. He was obviously uncomfortable, but he never let on just how sick he really was. I wept at the sudden loss of him. He really should have had 5 or 6 good years left with us. I expected my girls to learn to ride on him. He was a teddy bear with kids and an amazingly perceptive animal. He was a clown. I wept at the loss of a large part of my identity. Even though I haven't been riding much, the hope for a little piece of my life, of my talent, of my outlet remained as long as I Be was at that gate morning and night. With him gone, the prospects of having that part of me in my everyday life is very slim. We spent $2000 trying to save him. Add that to the cost of a new washer and dryer, hospital bills and Addie's formula and we're hurting on the money side of things right now. It will be a long time before I can justify buying another horse.

For me, I need a horse like I need air. I've had a horse in my life since the age of 7. The only time I went without was at college and I always felt like a part of me was missing. It may sound ridiculous, but my body yearns for the feel of a horse yielding to my leg in the saddle, to the feel of a good stop and a soft face. The smell of the barn, shavings, horse hair and saddles is so comforting to me. As a mom, I've put my talents and potential aside to raise my kids. I've shelved my goals as I help my girls live out theirs. But, just having I Be in the pasture gave me a small outlet. A place to feel totally comfortable, totally confident, and at peace. I will miss that very much with his passing. I know it is only for a time. But, I will be at a loss during that time and I look forward to reclaiming that part of me in the future.