Jetta
1995 - 2018
I first met Jetta when I was working for a guided trail ride facility in my hometown, I was a trail guide leading trail rides for anyone who paid to participate. The family that ran the facility at the park I worked at also ran facilities at 2 other parks. The family participated in a breeding program for the North American Spotted Draft Horse Association (NASDHA). One of those other facilities was much larger, and a much more modern barn, and so that is where their 2 studs and the breeding mares were kept. The mares were all a part of the trail string, but were all kept at that same facility. For whatever reason, in the spring of 2000, they moved some of the stock around, and several mares/foals ended up at our barn. And, so, a love affair began.
I hope I never forget that very first look at that black and white nose, and those dark eyes that were so dark and gorgeous, yet very guarded. She was clearly not "checked in," and was going through the motions at our barn. I was just dying to get my hands on her, so I spent hours with her and her colt: grooming, hanging out, and hopping on her bareback with no tack at all out in the field with the other mommas and babies. One day we ran out of available horses for a trail ride, we needed one more and it was my ride to take. As the owner scrambled to figure it out, I somehow convinced her to let me take Jetta as the lead horse. The owner was nervous to say yes, as Jetta still had a colt at her side, but I glossed over it and said it would be fine, the colt could come along and would stay at her side. Let me just say, I had no idea how she would be on the trails, much less as the guide horse, AND add her 2 month old colt to the equation?! What was I thinking?!?! Well, she was an all-star and it all went fabulous! That particular trail ride was chock full of little girls who were infatuated with horses, so you can only imagine the reactions when they saw their trail guide come out on the horse of their fairy tail dreams AND a baby in tow. Let's just say, it was the very best ride I'd ever been a guide for and it was the most tips I had ever received when I got back.
Once that colt was weaned off Jetta, she became my guide horse. She was reserved by the owner as only being a part of the breeding stock, so I was the only one approved to ride her. And ride her I did. She was so amazing, never placed a foot wrong, but I was always disturbed that she didn't seem present in life, that there was a barrier between her and I, really between her and any other human. I had no financial means to afford a horse, hence why I had been giving guided trail rides for so long, but I started lobbying to buy Jetta almost immediately. That fall, the husband half of the owners had some really significant health problems, and they decided to thin out some of the stock. They approached me first and gave me a heck of an offer, I learned much later that the offer they made to me was WELL below (and I mean SIGNIFICANTLY BELOW) her actual market value, and I didn't even hesitate to say yes. And so, she became mine. This is the only photo I have from that time, on Halloween, when we all dressed up to give trail rides.
That photo was taken on the last day of our season, the barn would close to trail rides until spring the following year. I rode her out that gate behind me, across the rode, off on the trails, and never looked back. The boarding barn I took her to also bordered these trails, and I was able to ride her there.
Almost immediately upon moving Jetta to this new barn, she became uncatchable in the field. Sure, when it was time to come in and eat, she had no issues coming in voluntarily. But, if I tried to go get her, she would trot and trot and trot away. I could eventually wear her down and grab her. It never seemed like she was scared, she just didn't want any part of the interaction with me, which I'll honestly say hurt my very soul. I *knew* she was my soulmate, I *knew* with every fiber of my being that this was my once-in-a-lifetime horse...so why didn't she act like she knew it too? So, I changed my approach completely. Every day I would go out in the field but not do the same thing ever. Some days I caught her, took her all the way to the barn, rode, etc and turned her back out at the end. Some days I caught her, took her to the gate, gave a treat and then let her go. Some days I brought a brush with me in the field, and would just brush her quickly, or pick her feet, then leave. Some days I wouldn't catch her at all, just offer her a treat and she could choose whether to come to me.
It didn't take long until she would see me and stop trotting away, then she would stop walking away, then she would just stand and wait for me to get to her, but I'll NEVER forget the day she walked TOWARDS me. Up until that day, she was still very distant and seemed to go through the motions. That day, though, the day she saw me and started walking towards me before I could even get through the gate? That day it all changed. Her eyes were bright, she was completely engaged in the interaction, and when I went to leave her, Jetta followed me on her own accord to the barn. I was crying (tears of joy) the whole way back, knowing I had finally broken through the wall, and feeling her breath on my arm as we walked back together.
That whole process took 6 months - it took my gorgeous girl 6 months to finally accept that I was there for good, that I wasn't going to bail on her, that she FINALLY had someone to count on. You see, Jetta was a one-person-horse that had ended up in the absolute worst situation for a one-person-horse: a breeding and trail riding facility with a different rotation of people through every single day. But, once I broke through, wow did that girl bloom! I had no idea what to expect, but I was quite surprised to find out that my girl had a sense of humor! I would stop by the barn in the evenings on my way home from work to clean her stall, and they would already be in for the night. The barn had sort of a funky set up in that there were 2 main aisles, with a couple of off-shoot small aisles. Jetta was in an off-shoot, where there was one way in and out in her little area. So, I would turn her out in the aisle, throw her a little bit of hay, drape a lead rope across the head of the aisle, and clean her stall. She REGULARLY knocked the wheelbarrow over with her nose - never when I first started to clean her stall but ALWAYS when I was almost done. I swear to God, she snickered every single time. I mean, I couldn't get mad at her, it *was* pretty damn funny, but still....I had to clean up her poo twice every night. But then she got creative. One evening I realized I didn't really hear her in the aisle, and walked out of the stall to find an empty aisle, and that lead rope draped across the head of the aisle was gone. When I panicked and ran into the main aisle, there Jetta was - she had pulled out an entire bale of hay, and had proceeded to make a HUGE mess. All the while the other horses were positively glaring at her and her freedom. Again, I swear she laughed at me.
Through the ensuing years, Jetta never lost that sense of humor. She didn't always show it to everyone, but it was always on display for me. She was also the absolute smartest horse I have ever known. But more than that, Jetta was exceedingly kind. I'll always have a picture in my head of when I was forcing her to do dressage with me, my son was then 2-3 years old and I didn't have a babysitter for when I had lessons. So, he would play in the arena sand on the outside of the fence until I was done, and then he would come running in at the end to walk her around - he would grab her reins from me, and proceeded to walk her out to cool her down. Jetta would very gently put her nose on his shoulder, and matched her stride to his shuffling toddler pace. She took extreme care to not hurt him, to ensure he was protected....and that extended to when he was on her back.
We did just about everything one could do with a horse in the time we had together. We trail rode a lot, played at dressage, did all sorts of fun shows, driving...you name it, we did it. However, it wasn't until I met a friend who participated in foxhunting that I found where my girl shined. I took her to a hunter trial and she was a BEAST. All those foxhunting women fell in love with her, and I cannot even begin to list the sale offers I received for her. I of course turned them all down, and so then they asked about breeding leases. Nope, wasn't going to happen. But it was gratifying that everyone else finally saw what I had seen all along - this big horse with a bigger than life personality, and an even bigger heart.
The only black mark on my time with this girl was nagging soundness issues that plagued our entire time together. She was lame on her pre-purchase exam even, a fact that didn't make me hesitate for one moment in buying her. It seemed to come and go, it was always her front left, but sometimes also her front right. Turns out my gorgeous girl had ringbone, which is common in drafts and draft crosses. Thankfully, it wasn't the invasive kind, but until her ankles could fuse, she would show all sorts of lameness off and on. My vet at the time was amazing, and he suggested injecting her to speed the process up. And so we did. His instruction to me was to not watch her move at all for at least 2 months, because it would take that long to see if the injections would work. How do you not look at your horse's gait when you are working at the barn and see her every day? I tried not to panic, and we had pain killers in her system to help her through it, but it was UGLY. Until one day it wasn't. And then the next day was better. And better. And finally she was sound again. Radiographs shows front left had completely fused, front right was *almost* there. I was cleared to ride again only because my vet knew my heart, which was I would NEVER do anything purposefully to hurt her. We did what she did best, we wandered the trails. She never loved anything in an arena *ahem, dressage* but did them because I asked her to....this time I vowed to never again ask her to do something she wasn't all in for too. So, we wandered the trails, and just loved each other.
Two to three years before her death, I noticed Jetta was again showing signs of lameness, but this time it seemed to be perhaps in her neck or back. The vet came out and did a complete exam and what we found was that this time it was her hocks affected. This horse, who was always naturally heavy on the forehand, had most likely placed a lot of stress on her hocks while battling ringbone all of those years - and now she was paying the price. So, we started Previcox every other day, the smallest dose, and there was dramatic improvement. She was completely sound, happy to go out on trails, and living the life of a pampered horse (such as she deserved). Jetta was going along fine until she wasn't, and a year after initial diagnosis it became apparent that she needed medication every day. And things were again fine. Until they weren't. More vet visits, different medications and supplements, lots of energy spend scouring the internet and medical journals, all looking for *the* solution to keep my sweet mare happy and pain free. I knew in my gut, though, that we were definitely on the downhill slope of her life, and I had made her a promise a long time before that I would always value quality over quantity. That I would give her every chance I could to recover from whatever, but if it meant a trip to OSU or Lexington, then I would hold her head while she slipped from this life. I unofficially retired Jetta from all riding, all she had to do was spend her evenings and nights with her small herd of fellow mostly retired friends, and her days laying flat out in her stall under fans, sleeping away the hot days.
Instead of going to the barn and spending hours riding, bathing, grooming, etc I would go and sit in her stall with her and read a book. I would groom her until her entire body gleamed, then send her back out with her friends. Sometimes I would take her for walks back in the woods on the trails we had loved exploring so much. But, mainly, I spent as much time as I could with her doing whatever we both wanting, and I talked to her. A lot. I thanked her every day I saw her for choosing me, for wanting to be my partner, for loving me.
But then she literally hit the ground. My BO was near tears telling me that they were able to get her up, she went into her stall and immediately laid down thrashing all around. They had just gotten her back up and were bringing her out to walk her until I got there when I had pulled in. I could see that things were not good - her respiration was noticeably shallow (she was in fact heaving to breath), she was covered in sweat, and her abdomen was incredibly hard and somewhat swollen. I knew in my gut that this was the end, but I wanted to give her a shot. We somehow got banamine down her throat while I called the vet to tell her it was an EMERGENT situation, and I needed her there immediately. While we waited for the vet to get there, where Jetta had gone down was thankfully in the grass, but also in full sun. It was mid-August. In Ohio. With zero cloud clover. So, my BO ran and grabbed a sheet to hold up while I snagged the hose to lightly sprinkle cold water all over her. I also grabbed a thermometer. I remember that I took her temperature rectally three times because I couldn't believe the number I was seeing. 96.6, 96.5, 96.5. For reference, normal temperature for a horse is 99-101 degrees. I hoped that my thermometer was broken, and so grabbed one of the other boarder's thermometer to use. 96.4.
The vet made the normally 45 minute drive in about 25 minutes, but it felt like forever. In the time we were waiting, I kept talking to Jetta, and she was mostly quiet. The heaving breathing and some groaning were about all the sound she made, and there was some intermittent pawing. At one point she actually rolled up to her belly from being flat out on her side, and I encouraged her to get up. And she did! Right as the vet was pulling into the drive. I remember thinking, as I led her around and around, that the vet was going to be severely pissed that I made her drive like a bat out of hell only to pull in and see Jetta up and walking. However, as the vet got out of the truck, Jetta went down again. And never got back up. She couldn't lay still enough for the vet to do any sort of exam, or even to be able to listen to her gut, so we sedated her. When Jetta was finally somewhat quiet, she put her stethoscope against her abdomen. She listened, listened some more, moved it around, listened, and kept moving it. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know, and then she confirmed that there were absolutely no gut sounds.
She grabbed her thermometer and I told her what my readings had been, and again I was hoping both of our instruments were wrong. Her's read 96.3 Jetta's temperature was falling. Her gums were white, heart rate slowing, breathing elevated and very shallow. Without doing a full rectal exam, which was now impossible in a sedated horse flat on her side, the vet's guess was complete torsion colic. I knew the answer, but I had to ask: what are the options? We had 2. 1. reverse the sedation, somehow get her on her feet, get her into the trailer, and haul ass to Ohio State for surgical intervention....which was most likely way too late at this point. Or 2. Euthanization. I didn't even hesitate. Though I was crying, though it was the last thing I wanted to say, I remembered that promise I made to Jetta all those years ago, the very promise I had whispered in her ear that morning holding the hose on her: when the only option is going to the equine hospital, I will hold your head while you cross over. Jetta had never once refused anything I had ever asked of her, so you better believe I wasn't going to renege on that promise. It just seemed, and still seems, all so unfair - a horse that never once suffered a single colic episode, was losing her life to colic.
The vet came back with the bright pink solution-filled syringe, and I had a moment of weakness when she asked if I was ready. I asked her quickly "this is the right decision, right?" She had tears in her eyes and said "it's the only decision." And so, I nodded my agreement, grabbed that sweet muzzle in my hands, and looked in her eyes while I told her how very much I loved her, and how I would love her forever. Unfortunately Jetta's body was in such a state of shock by that point, her blood pressure was non-existent, her heart rate very low, that one injection didn't end it. Two full injections didn't end it. Three? Nope. One directly to her heart? While her respirations were mostly non-existent, her heart stubbornly continued to beat, and her eyes stayed locked on mine. It was suggested that perhaps she needed me to walk away to let go, which I did, but she hung on, her eyes never leaving me. I came back to her, told her again and again that it was okay, that she was needed in Heaven to boss around all of her friends that were already there, and that most importantly, I was keeping my promise to her. I told her that the thing I loved most about her was her big heart, and that I would miss her forever, but that it was time to go. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear I could see the understanding in her eyes. Mostly, I could see the love. I told the vet to do one more injection, straight to the heart, and she did. And it was then that Jetta finally left me. Her body was at peace, her soul set free. It had taken an hour from the first injection, but I had kept my promise.
And, so now, 2 years later, the grief is still there, the sadness still a part of my life, and I sure miss that black and white girl. I get asked from time to time, though thankfully less now, when I'll get another horse, or if I'll get another one. My answer now is the same as it was 2 years ago, no. There's no way I'll get as lucky as I did the first time, no way I'll find another perfect match. Jetta was my once-in-a-lifetime partner, and there is no way I could love another, or give as much to another horse. The thought of trying to build a relationship with a new partner is exhausting. I just don't have it in me, but moreso, she took a large part of my heart with her and I just can't seem to heal it. And so I have been horseless for the first time in my life since I was 8 years old. I didn't own a horse at 8, but I rode every single weekend that I could, until I bought my girl. It feels weird to not have a horse, I drive by the farm from time to time, and I can see the boulder the BO placed over her grave, and I for a moment think "what if I get another" and then I tuck it away and move on.
Jetta
3/23/1995 - 8/18/2018
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