04/13/2023
I don't know how to start this. As I write this at 11 am, I'm sitting in a chair in front of Poppy's stall, watching her happily eat really expensive T&A, picking out the good parts, and trying to figure out how to start her obituary. She's dying in an hour or so, as soon as her grave is completed.
The worst part of this is that she doesn't look sick enough to be put down. There's that quiet voice in my head saying, "you can put this off, you can get another few weeks out of her, it doesn't have to be now, on such a gorgeous spring day. Maybe she's not actually sick after all."
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Poppy: August 2000-April 12, 2023
I met Poppy in 2017. She was a grumpy, girthy, no-nonsense, alpha mare, former fox hunter who cribbed and didn't love kids but tolerated them, mostly. She seemed to have unlimited energy even at 16. To this day, I never saw her tire out. Even last night, during our final sunset ba****ck ride, she was attempting to sneak into a trot, chugging along at the most forward walk she could manage.
She lived at Patten Oaks on St Simons Island for under a year and there met Maddie, her last kid owner. I had just had a baby and Poppy helped me get some confidence back over fences. She had THE GREATEST, FLOATIEST, ROCKING HORSIEST CANTER EVER. Her walk to canter transition was the stuff of dreams.
The program at Patten Oaks closed down, Poppy was officially purchased by then 13 year old Maddie, and moved to another local barn.
I won't go into detail as it's a lonsg, quasi-complicated story, but Poppy is the sole reason The St Simons Equestrian Center exists today, even though she didn't move into our barn until March 2020.
If it wasn't for her, we literally wouldn't be here.
During the first wave of the pandemic, we started using Poppy as a lesson horse. Maddie was busy with high school and volunteer activities, and Poppy was loved on and spoiled with us.
In June 2020, her owner's family made the hard decision to sell her. At this time, lesson horse prices were exorbitant and Poppy, despite being 20, was worth significantly more money than what they'd paid for her initially because of her sheer usefulness. She could do pony rides, the longe line with 5 year olds, walk trot, AND the jumpers with the gutsy teenagers.
I told her owners to come up with a number they wanted for her and we'd start negotiating there.
Maddie's mom sat down in my office, tears all over her face. She told me, "we want her to stay here, where she's loved by y'all so much."
She took the bill of sale from me and wrote "1" on the sale amount line.
Instead of pricing me out (which would have been easy at that point) and making some money, they sold their beloved Poppy to me for a single dollar.
And yes, I gave Maddie's mom that dollar bill.
Best dollar I've ever spent.
I spent the small stash I'd set aside for her purchase for stifle injections, Adequan, Equioxx, Regumate, gastric scoping and ulcer meds, hind gut supplements, chiro, massage therapy, and Iconoclast boots to support aging legs. Turns out, money CAN buy happiness. Our grumpy white mare turned into a cuddle bug who leaned into the curry comb instead of baring her teeth with her ears pinned.
Poppy became the best teacher I've ever met. I learned more about balance, centeredness, and instincts from her than any human trainer. She felt the second her rider would start to lose balance and she'd make a beeline for me. She trained my eye to see the loss of balance faster, or looking for crooked hips making Poppy turn accidentally. If a rider was anxious or stressed, she'd refuse to leave my side in the ring until their breathing settled.
She was famous for her "one shot/only chance" rides. A rider got one chance to ride through an exercise with Poppy's help to show them how it's supposed to go. After that, they had to do the work on their own: steering, leg, balance, correct two point, release.
After the first ride through, no more favors. You were there to learn to ride, not be a passenger.
Let's be honest, though, she wasn't flawless. She loved speed, and was always up for a good gallop even in her advanced years... probably why she made a good fox hunter but a poor arena hunter. She had a notoriously strong head and needed her bits switched out often. She was absolutely terrified of armadillos (the Armadillo of Death who lived in the treeline was legendary among her riders). Her heat cycles were the stuff of hormonal nightmares. She was prone to choke, needed her feed soaked. She cribbed. She had melanomas that ruptured under her tail, arthritis, thin soles, and Cushing's disease.
When she was 22 and I was 42, we started training in dressage. It made both of us better. We set a goal for our levels and maybe a bronze? We got her flying changes back. She learned the turn on the forehand, I learned how to sit the trot.
Shortly after starting our dressage quest, I found out I had a brain tumor that had to come out and she got mysteriously sick while I recuperated from brain surgery. We chalked it up to a Cushing's flare.
Weeks of SMZs, weeks of extra feed (I believe she was on 13 lbs of senior feed plus all the alf and grass hay she could eat), and she still looked crummy. She was depressed. We pulled her from lessons. The vet came out for a cut near her eye and instead spent two hours with an ultrasound looking at her lungs, which sounded like crinkled cellophane through the stethoscope.
"Might be just asthma. Might be EMPF."
I'd never heard of EMPF (equine multinodular pulmonary fibrosis). Googling ensued and my heart broke. It's a rare, hard to diagnose, newer disease. EMPF is also terminal in older horses. Poppy was 23. I decided Poppy absolutely did not have EMPF.
"Prognosis is 3-6 months, based on how she sounds now. I'd not bet on 6 months though."
Poppy made it 8 months, and she worked as a leadline pony ride horse until this week. She loved her job, loved her littles. We lifted her Cushing's diet restrictions and gave her every sugary treat she wanted. Her riders came to a unicorn and rainbow themed goodbye photoshoot on a Sunday.
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But she didn't look sick anymore.
The palliative meds work beautifully, until they don't work at all. Amanda would hear her cough all night, and she began doing her job--managing our horses' care in their best interest--with me as the target client. She told me it was time but I couldn't hear it.
Poppy's my favorite horse. My beloved princess baby angel unicorn pony. I wasn't ready.
Today, next to her grave on our property, she laid down quietly, exactly as planned. She died with her head under my hands, listening to the group of folks, the vet team, our staff, and my husband, who loved her and cared for her whispering "good girl, Poppy."
A lung biopsy performed post mortem confirmed she had EMPF. Her lungs were rigid, scarred, filled with small tumors and blisters, and were streaked with strange tan colors, not pink or red. I held the tissue myself. It wasn't healthy.
For the first time since I knew she was terminal, I broke into the ugly cry...of relief. We gave a very sick, but stoic, horse a peaceful end. I knew letting her go today, on a beautiful breezy Georgia spring day, was the right call.
She crossed the rainbow bridge today without her pink, purple, and teal mane and tail, cut off before she walked out of the barn, nor her shoes, and met the other beloved tail-less and shoeless horses on the other side.
We love you forever, sweet Poppykins. Thank you for being the best teacher I could ask for.