Demoted to a school horse, Pepi gave up his show pony lifestyle to teach
children how to ride. Having spent the majority of his life a single child
to a loving show mum, it seems to me that this was not the way he wanted
to live the rest of his life.
Joining Hilltops in 1998, the first image I had as a young girl starting
a new riding school was Pepi. I idolized him, I wanted him so bad. However,
it seemed it wasn't to be. Pepi was leased by one of the more experienced,
older girls, so I could only look on in wonder at the beautiful chestnut
arab as he was paraded around in front of me for 2 long years. In 2000, however,
after loosing the horse I had loved and leased for a year, Woody (Show Name:
Woodlyne Supreme, Breed: Arab, Height: 14.2, Colour: Bay, Markings: 3 White
Socks, a blaze and a white spot on his belly) to a liver disease,
I was heartbroken. At this time Pepi was also becoming ill and the girl who
leased him bought her own horse and moved away. Pepi became almost useless
for a period where either it was his clever thinking to get him out of
school work or an unknown illness. Either way, it was left to me to
fix it. Pepi would be fine while saddling up etc, until he was mounted in
the arena and began a lesson at which point he would just stop and sit down,
not budging.
Being useless to the riding school, he was offered to me at
a cheap price. I took advantage of this even though he may have been
forever helpless. Working with him over a quite short period of time,
I bought Pep back into riding/showing. His 'injuries' may have
been a psychological issue, as suddenly he became the single child to
a loving mum again and was willing to work. Pep was hassle-free and basically
a smart arse for the next 3 years where we showed together. Many recognised
the cheeky young show gelding they once knew to be a loyal old
school hack at gymkhanas and ODEs.
My school work cut in and
I think we were both relieved to settle down. Rather than showing and training,
Pep became my pleasure mount and we would yahoo around the local trails or
wander aimlessly together bareback in the local parks entertaining random
children and locals. He became well known in the area and local families
would wait for our evening strolls just to get a glimpse of the proud
fire-coloured animal that would prance down their streets. He also became
a teacher to two younger girls at the stables who would ride him in exchange
for feeding him on the days I couldn't.
So it's clear by now that
my loss was not the only loss felt by Pepi's passing. On the evening of Wednesday
the 7th of January, approximately 6pm before I ventured out
to give Pep his dinner, I received a phone call from the property
manager where he was kept alarming me that he has been constantly laying
down during the day and hadn't eaten his breakfast this morning. Being
sure signs of colic, I bolted to his stables cutting a 10 minute walk half
and reaching his yard in time to see him lying flat on his side reminisantly
like Woody had at the bottom of his yard seemingly helpless. Just the sight
was heart-wrenching after enduring the loss of my previous horse
Woody.
The next few hours consisted
of marching, sometimes dragging Pep up and down his yard to keep
him on his feet (all those familiar with Colic will understand
why this was). By 9pm the vet had arrived and so did Pepi's fan club and
support ring consisting of me, my mother, and 5 others who loved him. Symptoms
seemed quite unsevere and Pepi was given his first of 9 needles to come within
the next 20 hours to sedate him for a simple treatment. Pep's insides were
flushed and recovery, although not certain, was looking quite
likely.
"The next 3-4 hours in which
the pain killer will wear off are the most important as to whether he lives
or dies. If things look good after 4 hours, then he'll live. If not then
he'll probably die." This is what I had to go by. "Come back at about
2am to check on him." Yeah right, there was no way I was leaving him
now. Left alone with a doped up unfamiliar lifeless arab, I spent the
night watching his dawdling progress as the others went home to bed as
advised.
I spent from 9pm on the
7th till 6.30am on the Thursday 8th staring blurry eyed as Pepi's pain killers
wore off and the agony became clear in his miserable face. Mum arrived at
about 7.30 am, the vet was called and arrived an hour later. It was clear
that any more attempts would be futile, however, staring at my tear-stained
face, I suppose the vet decided it was worth another try. Pep was given
the drench again through his battling, against the vet and numerous needles
of which he was becoming accustomed to but no more sedated
during. The vet basically told me he has 6 hours in which time he will
likely die.
Left alone again with the
yards starting to stir with hungry horses, hope was lost. Pep resumed his
position at the bottom on the yard on his side, with me by his side listening
to his uneasy gasping for air. Assuming it was over, I lay with him crying
into his mane, reminding him how much I loved him. But to my surprise within
2 hours of crying, Pep's breathing adjusted to normal and at 1pm,
with a sudden start, he stood up on his own accord and headed to his gate
and paced up and down and I stared on in amazement. Confused and bewildered,
I opened it to see where he wished to go. And without hesitation he broke
into a trot and headed to his paddock gate where his stable mates had been
turned out as regular during the day.
Again his support base turned
up and were overjoyed to see him on his feet and wandering around the paddock
with his friends. Although he didn't stop to graze, he was becoming
more and more himself by the minute as he stirred up his mates. Hope was
within reach and although none of us wanted to admit the possibility of his
survival, we were all thinking it. So you can imagine how let down we were
when after a few minutes of discussing his possible recovery, one of the
kids came running up from the paddock yelling. He was down again. I was
mortified. He was lying in the grass amongst his friends. He just didn't
want to face it without seeing them again, I suppose. Again the vet was called
as this was the last straw, I couldn't let him continue to break our hearts
and I couldn't let him endure it any more. All agreed and although it was
difficult I understood I had to let him go.
The vet appeared in the
paddock while I stood back, and again breaking our hearts, at the
sight of the vet, Pepi rose up and immediately took off towards me.
After all the needles he had been given, he was fed up, so in our last moments
together I took the opportunity to lead him to his yard where he was to be
buried. Just me and him walking side by side, with no halter or lead
he followed me. It was the most heartwrenching moment knowing he trusted
me, yet knowing that I was the one that had just made the decision to
kill him. Having again not expected Pep to be able to stand, the vet thought
hope was in reach, but after checking him over all he could give us were
a few more days on pain killers, throughout which he would survive but the
pain would eventually increase and take him. I decided he had endured enough
already. It was futile and cruel to make him hold on only so that I could
hold on to his presence that much longer.
So through my gagging, choking
and nodding, in tears I communicated my decision. Pepi had to be sedated
again which was a battle in itself in order to put him down peacefully. I
then had to stand holding on to his halter and lead as the first of
3 green needles were emptied into his neck, At that moment I turned
directly into my mother's embrace crying like a child into her shoulder.
It seemed like forever waiting to hear the sound I was warned of. The rumbling
echo as he landed flat on his side in the sand. I only vaguely
remember now my selfish and pathetic attempts to stop it all from
happening, crying for them to stop it and that I didn't want him to
leave, as I lay on his body stroking his face. But by then it was too late
anyway. His breathing slowed and my sobs increased as I held my hand
to his heart feeling his life slip away in each beat. Two needles later his
heart stopped beating but his breathing and eyes were locked on me for at
least a minute longer. Soon his eyes no longer focused and his
last death rattles and reflexes after he was gone still haunt me. I
know I had to do it but I can't stop the guilt that comes with knowing it
was my decision that took his life.
I laid with his body for
about an hour before the man who was coming to bury him actually turned up.
I can't imagine how it must have looked to passersby bringing their horses
in to ride. I was slumped over his stomach with my cheek resting on his and
his front hoof in my lap for an hour holding on to the warmth his body retained
and the feel of his chestnut coat against my skin. It was the last moments
I would ever touch him and it killed me knowing that. Once I let him go I
kissed the cold and heavy muzzle and told him I loved him while he was lifted
into his grave. I didn't cry again for the rest of that week, maybe
even the month. I had to go on living on the outside while I quietly died
on the inside. I haven't been able to return there still. And though
it seems insane that I could have been that crushed, I'm sure some of you
will understand what it is to love your horse that much.
Erin Sykes
I tried so hard to tell
myself that you're gone, but though you're still with me,
I've been alone all along.
My Immortal