In Loving Memory of

Savannah

If there is one thing I can say for sure about horses, it’s this. Each one has something to teach me. Each one is a puzzle, with their own set of problems, preferences and possibilities. Today, after the TWO of a One-Two punch from the universe, I write to tell you that the Golden Carrot is sadly less for the passing of Savannah.

This was not unexpected, as Lew was. In fact, I berate myself for taking so long to make the decision to help Savannah pass from the vale of woes which was her life. Unlike Lew, this was a horse with whom I was never able to make a connection of any sort. Frankly, I believe that Savannah actually disliked me - really! (And that was alright. The Golden Carrot is about giving the equine residents here what they need, meeting their desires and whims whenever possible, not making me or any other humans happy. It’s just a joyous consequence of the lovely people that they are, that when horses are happy, they tend to make the humans around them happy too!) When I came to write to you a final note about Savannah, I was worried - what can I say about this withdrawn distant mare? Let’s see....

Savannah, tragically, was only 14-16 years old when she died, after a 3 ½ year sojourn here at TGC. But this poor mare had the body of a 36 year old - stiffened enlarged arthritic hocks, and popped knees being just the most obvious problems.

Dr. Z agreed that Savannah had been "used hard and put away wet" for many years, and not trail riding, but rather lots of that sliding, spinning, barrel racing kinda work so many quarterhorses do. And when she was too crippled to continue, she’d clearly been bred - probably had at least a couple of foals. She ended up alone, hungry, thirsty, in Phelan, in a pen, next door to the trailer in which her then-owner had died, only to be discovered some days later.

When she came in, she almost had no hind feet. We were able to determine that "something" was wrong deep in her left hip joint, causing her to drag her hind feet until the hoof simply wore away to nothing. It took almost a year of some wild looking shoes to help those feet grown back in. Somehow, oddly, having feet didn’t actually seem to help her at all. She endured our efforts in shoeing her - if nothing else, Savannah was very well trained. Once you caught her, she was completely submissive, even when it clearly bothered or hurt her.

Over her stay here, Laurie checked her time and again for anything she could adjust to help Savannah, and I was able to pull her tail and release some maladjustments there. Dr. Zadick confirmed that there was something wrong deep in that left hip, but without x-rays, knowing the extent of the injury was not possible. And frankly, any problem which would require surgery falls immediately into the "not manageable" category for me. For such a young horse, I might have tried if I thought she could withstand a 1.5 hour trailer ride down mountainous windy roads .... but then again, remember her overall condition. The hip was only one problem of many that Savannah suffered, and putting her through the discomfort of the trailer ride, the surgery and its recovery period, only to still have a horse with two popped knees and hocks slowly locking up, is not reasonable, in my opinion. And these were just her physical problems.

Now we come to the things Savannah taught me. I didn’t know that horses can suffer from depression.

My vet says they can’t, but I saw it. I didn’t know that horses can withdraw, both from people, and from their own kind. One or the other, sure, temporarily. But both? I didn’t know that horses can give up, except when so severely starved that clearly Mother Nature is helping them to transition. To see a beautiful palomino mare, coat shining in the sun, standing with her herd, and see the isolation in her eyes, the lack of interest in her surroundings, the plain dumb endurance of someone who just doesn’t care anymore .... The two things don’t match. Was there a day in her youth when this lovely horse was the beloved of a little girl - maybe mom and dad couldn’t pay for her anymore and she was sent away - and a life of brutal hard work and indifference combined with her broken heart to batter her sensitive nature to death? Maybe she felt it was better to endure, do what you’re told, and be alone, than suffer such a loss again? Maybe she’d begun to love her last owner, and then lost her too? Was it a one time heartbreak, or a short lifetime of cold-hearted use that destroyed her willingness to trust again?

In these 17 years of working with rescue horses, I’ve taken in healthy horses, starved horses, injured horses, behavior problems. They all find their way in their own time. Some like me, some don’t; some make friends, or tolerate another needier horse. But poor Savannah stood alone by choice. Gelding after gelding would have loved to be her protector. When in season, she was fine with that, but then she’d wander off, and for whatever reason, the gelding never stuck with her. Occasionally, in the last year of her life, I got the impression she was trying to make friends with Star/Song/Chacha, but I couldn’t tell if she was trying to get next to Lew (as all the mares wanted to do), or if she was reaching out to the mares.   She didn’t try hard, or consistently, but I thought I was seeing something.

And in that last year of her life, she was the dream horse of Kaylee and Julia, my sweet volunteers. They tried so hard, so hard, to connect with her. At first, with no success at all, but they were persistent. I feel that if they’d been able to come more often, they might have been able to reach her. But they had to re-invent the wheel each time they came - I imagine her thinking, ‘why bother? They’ll just leave too...." But they did get her to allow them to approach with carrots. She’d take the carrot, and turn and quietly walk away.

She wouldn’t tolerate being touched or groomed for more than a second or two, unless you had a halter on her. O yes, then, if you had her haltered, she’d tolerate whatever you wanted to do. Or a better word might be "endured". I tried repeatedly to give her some massage - even a light grooming - and she wouldn’t give an inch. She never relaxed under my hands, never enjoyed a moment of it. I’ve had horses who didn’t know what was happening move away, thinking the pressure was a command to move. I’d lighten the pressure, and try again, and eventually, they figured it out and loved it. Always. Until Savannah. And every time I tried to catch her in the open, it was a 20 minute chase. Always. Unlike Cuervo who was clearly playing with me, or Queenie who is convinced something bad will happen, even though it never has, Savannah just wanted me to go away. Everything about her said to me ‘Leave me alone!" Whenever I could, I did - I’d have my neighbor catch her, the girls, anyone. It wasn’t required that she like me.

In her last month, I think Savannah got cast in her stall. My neighbor let her out in the mornings and told me she was struggling to get up, which she was able to do on her own but with difficulty. I’m wondering if that bad hip was further, irreparably strained in that effort. From that day to her last, every morning was a struggle to rise. From that day forward, Savannah’s already ‘tetchy’ appetite got ‘tetchier’. From day one she had been hard to feed - liking anything new for a day or two, then ignoring it. Even the senior feed, which EVERYONE loves, would be left. I couldn’t add any kind of pain medication to her feed - it’d be another excuse not to eat it - so I had to syringe bute down her throat. Once caught, she tolerated it - she wouldn’t toss her head as so many of them do, but would push her tongue against the head of the syringe, effectively blocking it. But it never seemed to do her any good. The last two days of her life I actually gave her 3 bute a day (a pretty substantial dose) and still saw no real evidence that she was more comfortable. Between her bad appetite and the weight she was losing, and the obvious pain, Savannah deteriorated right before my eyes. The blood work Dr Z did indicated that all was normal. How much of her pain was actual physical pain, and how much was the psychic pain that brought her down? She started spending too much time on the ground in her stall, and developing sores on her poor thin hips. It was waaay past time....

I held off making this decision for Savannah both because I hoped for someone, horse or human, who could break thru and touch her emotionally (and I felt that would make the world of difference for her), and because, with no connection between her and I at all, I worried that I would make a decision to end her life too easily. So of course, being a creature of extremes myself, I went too far the other way. In her last days, I did something I’ve naturally done with almost every other horse I have, daily - I stood by her stall and talked to her. Now, she stood as far away from me as she could get. Oso, who lived next door, stood closer to me. But I looked at her, and I talked to her, and I used her name. I know she knew I was there to communicate with her. And I told her what I planned to do. How I hoped it was the right decision, and that my belief that death frees the soul was correct, and she would be free again. That I wanted to release her from pain that I could not heal, that time and the herd had not healed, and that was clearly more than she could bear any longer. I hope that she understood me. Horses are geniuses at discerning intent - I hope that she realized that I and my volunteers cared for her.

Julia wrote:

I will tell you a few memories I had with Savannah -lots including Kaylee-

1. The first time we went to TGC with Mrs. Kravitz's troop. We pulled in to park and looked out at the horses.. Kaylee saw Savannah and yelled: Thats my dream horse! A palomino! That one! And she's loved her since.

2. When Mike brought me and Kaylee into Savannah’s stall and we pet her for the first time ever. There was a small spark of trust in her eyes, and Kaylee and I knew we had to keep that going.

3. It was one of the times I came to TGC without Kaylee. I had carrots and I was going around the paddock like I normally did, and when I stopped and looked at Savannah, holding out the carrot. She walked confidently up to me and took it. Then, I stroked her shoulder and talked quietly for as long as she would let me.

4. This is the most recent. When Kaylee and I stayed for 3 days at TGC. Savannah walked right up to us for treats and we each gave her a few. I then began petting her face and telling her that she was safe every time she got uncomfortable. I kissed her face and then slowly moved towards her for a hug. I knew she understood because as soon as I hugged her, she wrapped her neck around me, hugging back. Kaylee then did the same thing and we both talked to her and pet her. We knew she was starting to trust us. That small spark had started a flame, which we hoped would continue on. If I had known that would be the last time I would see Savannah, I wouldn't change anything I did, and I'm sure Kaylee wouldn't either. I know she was surrounded by love for her final moments, and I hope she finds all of her old friends from TGC. Good luck Savannah.

And Kaylee wrote:

I know that you were untrusting of me the day I met you. I could see it in your eyes. So innocent. You were stuck in the world of the unknown where you made your own choices alone in that world. And amazing as it is...I saw it, and I wanted to help. And, just when I thought there wasn't any progress, I saw it. You would walk away the first time I met you, and now, I could walk up to you and have a silent conversation to you. And, do you know what I kept on thinking whenever I could approach you? I would hand you the carrot, pat your shoulder once and think, "It's okay, Girl. You can trust me. I love you more than anything in the whole world, because I care." I knew you were listening. I just wasn't sure if you got the message. Now, I know you did. I can tell, because right now, you're sending me full messages telling me that you love me back.
All I could really say, is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your trauma, and your loss. And, I can honestly say, you did a great job handling it. You were never the best and you knew it, but you were the best to me. And I was very, very lucky to have Julia support you when I couldn't be there for you, especially when I wasn't there for you. Now, I know that you trust the both of us because of her. (I love you Julia and I hope you know that.) I love you both so much! I know that today is your last day. But only here. It will never be your last day, in my heart. You will always be there, you know. And, also, even though today is your last day, it's also your first. Your first day of pureness. Of wholeness. You WILL feel that. You will be HAPPY, and you will FEEL GOOD! I know you will...

Horses are genuises at discerning intent. I’m sure Savannah knew that these girls loved her and wanted to help her. It is sad to me that her physical problems were so great, that she couldn’t last long enough for the love of these sweet girls to bring her back.

Never forget they are people. And we have a hard time understanding our own kind, so it’s no surprise we have trouble understanding them sometimes. We have to try tho. I wish so much I could talk to them. If I knew what broke Savannah’s spirit, maybe I could have helped her mend. But all I could do was release her ...........