On October 31, 2006 we made
the painful decision to send Sir Spats Domino across the rainbow bridge at
sunset. At 32, "Spats" had suffered from founder for several years and all
the problems that go along with this curse of the equine species. A fiery
black fox trotter with four white feet, Spats came to join Gifford, the black
quarter horse, on Valentine's Day 1992 to become the second member
of the daring duo known as "The Blues Brothers".
As an equine cruelty investigator
for the Humane Society, I received a call one February night at 10:00 P.M.
concerning a pretty black horse who was being beaten with a rubber hose full
of sand as part of the "training" of a somewhat dubious horse trainer in
the area. Thinking that a drive of 60 miles in the dark in the middle of
a Texas snowstorm was not what I wanted to do, I called the fellow
and told him I would buy the horse if we could agree on a price. The quoted
price was of course outrageous. Rather than play the horse trader game in
the middle of the night, I explained the penalty for horse abuse and the
fine that could result and made a counter offer based on the horse being
delivered to me by noon the next day uninjured in any way. Deal
done!
In the middle of continuing
snow the next day, an old black horse trailer met me at the appointed place.
Inside, stomping and kicking was a wild-eyed, scared, mad, shaggy coated,
black horse with burrs in his long unkempt mane and tail. Knowing that if
he were unloaded there he would be a challenge to ever load again, I bought
not only the horse but the box he came in if both could be delivered to the
barn where my other horse was stabled. Knowing that the check I had just
signed was more than what was in the account, it still seemed like the only
thing to do at the time (thank God for my understanding friend who covered
the check the next day).
The first days with Spats
were interesting. His personality was that of a tough little street kid with
a chip on his shoulder. Didn't trust anyone and just a little bit mean. A
beautiful moving, gaited Fox trotter, he was a joy to ride until it was time
to stop. He didn't! Unless it was his idea and he didn't think about it often.
He became my "project" for a college class entitled Retraining The Problem
Horse. By mid-semester, Sir Spats Domino (so named because he was fat,
black and jazzy) had learned that stopping had something in it for him. He
developed an obsession for carrots and skittles. WHOA followed by a handful
of Skittles did the trick. We made an "A" and Sir Spats was no longer a problem
horse - most of the time. In August of 1992, he entered the arena with white
roses and ribbons braided in his mane and tail to become the surprise birthday
present for a 10 year old granddaughter. He was trained to stop at the touch
of hand on his neck or his butt so young children who roll around on horses
and off of horses could slide to the ground safely. And STOP he did, wouldn't
get out of a walk with kids or anyone who didn't gather him up and ride him
forward.
He taught us all a lot about
trust. At 16 he became the Alpha horse of our small herd of independent geldings.
Learned tricks that included doing the cha cha if humans got the beat right.
He was beautiful to the end at age 32 when sadly, the rotation in his feet
became so severe that there were no other options for him to escape a painful
existence but to dance across the rainbow bridge to join his partner who
had crossed a year and a half ago. Spats joined Gifford on October 31, 2006
taking along a bag of carrots and a message from me that someday when
I join them I will be sure to remember the carrots, Skittles and Gummy
worms.
My partner, Ethan House, told Spat's story with the insight of only someone
who knew him, loved him and cared for him as he grew
old:
Reaching
You reached out to me
long ago,
I was battered, bruised and untrusting.
You reached out to me long ago,
I was reluctant to reach out to you.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I was angry, tired and scared.
You reached out to me long ago,
I began reaching out to you.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I began to learn, and began to see.
You reached out to me long ago,
I reached to you with the same eye.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I began to teach, you began to learn.
You reached out to me long ago,
The reach became a caress.
You reached out to me
long ago,
We shared and conquered our fears.
You reached out to me long ago,
I could see this time was different.
You reached out to me
long ago,
With care, compassion and trust.
You reached out to me long ago,
I shared those same feelings.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I no longer fear what is to come.
You reached out to me long ago,
I can move forward with you.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I am leaving this life, for one with no pain.
You reached out to me long ago,
I will always know where my heart lies.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I am grateful to have accepted your touch.
You reached out to me long ago,
I am grateful you accepted mine.
You reached out to me
long ago,
I will live in your heart forever.
You reached out to me long ago,
You reached out to me long ago.
Ethan
House
Written in Memory of Spats
October 31, 2006