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Illusion, out of Silver Enchantress (half Pryor mountain mustang, half unknown) by Incantator (Trakehner) was bred, imprinted, raised and trained by my friend Kathleen, who died of cancer almost exactly 13 years ago. In the last phase of her own illness, she left him to me, trusting me to care for him the rest of his life. And yesterday, Illusion’s life ended. He was 14 when Kathleen died, 27 when I called the vet and asked for an emergency visit.
That picture is from 2003, when Illusion had been with me about 2 1/2 years and I was riding him regularly. Kathleen had trained him to a high level in dressage, though he was not talented for it, and she rode much better than I did. But when I took him over, he had a solid foundation right up to Grand Prix (though extreme collection was very difficult for him and he’d had to have his hocks injected. He was big and stout, but hocks and knees weren’t quite up to his size) He taught me a lot.
For a look at the younger Illusion, from his life at Singing Hill, I have a few of Kathleen giving our son Michael a lesson on him back in 1998–Michael’s first time to ride a trot and canter, but I can’t find the right folder this morning (it’s on an external hard drive backup storage) so here’s a link to the same on my main website. There are some others of Illusion there as well. A picture I don’t have and wish I did is from the last or next to last show Kathleen rode him in–a Prix St. George test, in an outdoor setting. I was acting as her groom that day, so didn’t have a camera with me. A storm had passed by; the ring surface was wet and dark (actually muddy and puddle-y at one end) and the thundercloud loomed dark behind them…but a ray of sun came under the cloud and spotlighted the golden horse as he did a careful passage through the mud.
All horses are individuals, with personalities and quirks. Illusion was extraordinary among horses–one of the two really brilliant horses I’ve known (the other was also a gelding and a crossbred. That was my first horse, Ky.) He showed flashes of human-type thinking, as did Ky. He had a strong, quirky personality (mischievous, too…he liked to tease people. For instance, by grabbing the brim of your hat as you walked away so that you walked out from under it.) Illusion spent half his life on the farm where he was born, a breeding and showing establishment for dressage horses, with Kathleen as his person. The other half he spent here. I was honored by Kathleen’s trust. I’m sorry it’s over. But I’m glad we were able to ease his ending for him.
[Edited to correct his dam’s name to Silver Enchantress and his age to 27.]
Comment by Ed Bunyan — October 23, 2013 @ 8:46 am
May Illusion’s soul, free of pain, rest in peace. He was lucky to have two people care for him who loved him very much.
Comment by Tuppenny — October 23, 2013 @ 8:59 am
May he run with the Windsteed
Comment by Victoria — October 23, 2013 @ 9:23 am
Sorry you lost a friend. Human or animal, when those we love go, it is hard.
Comment by Annabel — October 23, 2013 @ 10:22 am
So sorry for your loss. You will miss him indeed! I hope you will be able to allow another horse to make his or her own place in your household!
Comment by elizabeth — October 23, 2013 @ 11:01 am
Annabel: Mac is alive (chestnut QH, also pictures at website.) Mac is the drama queen, probably due to having very poor hooves in front: thin soles, narrow foot with upright thin, shelly, crack-prone hoof walls. He’s unrideable, as Illusion was in his later years, but in Mac’s case because he won’t stay riding-sound for more than a day or so at a time.
Victoria: Thank you. Yes, it is hard, though when one is uncomfortable, distressed, and miserable, it’s a little easier.
Tuppenny: Oh, thank you for that thought!
Ed: Thanks. I am better this morning, knowing Illusion is not in pain, not stiff, not confused and miserable. Caring for horses with problems (which I have, more often than not, being a sucker for such) means constant worry about them and struggle to keep them comfortable. I have however promised my farrier that he gets to make the deciding call on any horse I get from now on, where hoof health is concerned…or behavior with the farrier, for that matter.
Comment by David Watson — October 23, 2013 @ 11:15 am
Two corrections from the horse’s…. mouth. Illusion’s Dam was Silver Enchantress, so since his Sire was Incantator, the bred an Illusion
Our friend Gwenneth, who counts all things says he was 27. I’ll take her word for it. DRW
Comment by elizabeth — October 23, 2013 @ 12:27 pm
Sorry to have made a mistake, David. I should have checked with you. I knew it was 26 or 27, but not which.
Comment by Wickersham's Conscience — October 23, 2013 @ 1:53 pm
I live with elderly furry friends, too. And three owls, one of them very old. It’s hard to let them go when it’s time. It’s hard to know when it’s time. The love/empathy/selfishness quandary is very difficult.
My sympathies.
Comment by Richard — October 23, 2013 @ 4:30 pm
Ky lives on in Paksworld as Paks’s keeper, so is there room for Illusion too?
Comment by Moira — October 23, 2013 @ 6:21 pm
Animals find a place in our hearts unlike any other. Whether they just have us humans all figured out (we only think we’re the smart ones), or whether it’s a combination of their vulnerability / dependence on us / utterly unconditional love, we’re devastated when they leave us.
Even though easing their suffering softens the blow, the grief is very real. My sympathies, Elizabeth. Hold the memories – and the photos – in your heart.
Comment by elizabeth — October 23, 2013 @ 10:47 pm
Wickersham’s Conscience: You put it very well. There’s a tug of war sometimes between the love and empathy and selfishness–our own needs, v. theirs, v. (sometimes) our understanding of their needs. I have known people who felt that with animals, as with humans, every last possibility should be explored. But my mother, when I first got a puppy, taught me that the dog was my responsibility all the way to the end of her life…and that when an animal was suffering and incurable (that dog had cancer) it was my responsibility to see the suffering ended and be with the animal at the end…they deserved our respect and our care all the way.
Opinions and traditions differ and I’m not trying to lay guilt on anyone.
Richard: There’s room. I almost put him in the current story but I think it’s too soon. And it’s the wrong place. Um…I just had a thought…THAT would be interesting. (If only I hadn’t just turned in the CEs of Crown, I could back-fit him into it in a certain place, but…no. Later. He needs time to find the Windsteed and…oh, dear. I did that. I actually ALREADY have him in the story. We just don’t have enough of it yet. Goosebump moment…he’s there. And I knew it when I did it, but forgot it afterwards with everything else that happened…)
Moira: Thank you. But (as you see above) I just remembered that I’ve already put him in a place he won’t be forgotten. (I’d better write the next book within a reasonable amount of time…)
Comment by Chuck Gatlin — October 24, 2013 @ 10:58 am
Reading the comments above gave me a goosebump moment when I got to YOUR goosebump moment. I’m sure we’ll all have our eyes peeled next year when Crown comes out.
Perhaps this is a question best answered in the other blog, but your non-livestock-owning readers may wonder what happens to the remains of a horse, especially one that is as much “person” as a mount. Sometime when enough time has passed (and when you’re not trying to keep a story from outgrowing its bounds), maybe you could address this. It’s something I only know about because my dad lives in the country and has owned horses, on and off, since the mid 1960’s. Otherwise, as a city dweller, it would probably never have entered my mind, beyond popular culture references to “the glue factory” and that horrible passage in Orwell’s “Animal Farm.”
Comment by elizabeth — October 24, 2013 @ 1:12 pm
Since it came up here, it belongs here, Chuck. (Though any of you who don’t want to know details should skip this; if you don’t have, and don’t plan to have, a horse, it’s not something you have to know. If graphic details bother you…stop now.)
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We are fortunate to have a construction firm owned by a local person who also has horses right nearby. They have brought a backhoe, dug a hole, and buried each of my horses that died here. This is an immense help and wonderful neighborliness.
I am OK being with the horse when it’s injected; I held the leadrope for two of them but let the vet’s helper (they always bring a helper at such times) do it with Illusion because the old boy wasn’t upset by another handler and the vet preferred the handler do it. None of the horses has been particularly upset–they’re used to injections from vets, having blood drawn for tests, etc. The injection is sized to the size of the horse; big horses like Illusion may need one in either neck vein. The vet wants to be sure the horse loses consciousness very fast, doesn’t suffer any more.
The only dramatic part is when the standing horse loses consciousness, which happens very quickly. The hind legs start to buckle, and the person on the lead rope carefully (important! You don’t want to be in the way) gives a little push to one shoulder. Then they go over on one side. That was the vet’s concern with me on the lead rope, he said–Illusion was a larger-than-average horse for this area. And he didn’t know, of course, whether I would gauge the right moment and direction to push.
The vet then listens for the cessation of heartbeat (happens quickly) and finally checks the corneal reflex (touches the eyeball) to finally declare the horse dead. There still might be some sound from the inside, as the horse’s weight continues to settle onto the lungs and the diaphragmatic reflex operates–little wheezy sounds and a few puffs of air–but that ceases quickly.
I had Ky buried in the halter I’d bought him, but took the halter off Illusion. It was the halter Kathleen bought for him, and has his name on a little tag on it. It’s possible one of his connections will want it.
I don’t put markers down for them; some people do put markers or even fancy monuments (usually great racehorses or famous performance horses.)
A few practicalities. If a horse dies immediately of an injury (broken neck; it happens) or is put down without the use of drugs, the meat can be used by zoos if quickly harvested and chilled (same as beef.) There used to be (still are in some places) “knackers” who would come to your place, kill the animal, and take away the remains, selling the parts that were salable and disposing of the rest who knows where. If a horse is put down with drugs, the drugs make the meat toxic to zoo animals (and humans, for that matter) and can’t be used. Some vet services have connections that can help with removal if you don’t have space, the legal right, the money/machinery to bury the body yourself.
In my opinion, and it’s just mine, a horse is least stressed when at home, with familiar people (includes the familiar vet) around. The vet’s clinic (if the horse takes a bad turn there while in for diagnosis/treatment) is the next least stressful place.
Also in my opinion: horse owners (esp. new horse owners) need to think about what their options and their horse’s welfare may require. Accidents happen to the best-cared-for horses, from tripping and breaking a neck, to being hit by a car. Talk to an equine vet. Find out how it’s handled in your area. Put enough money away (however much that is) to pay for the vet’s final visit and whatever will be done with the remains. Check over the years to be sure it’s still enough, and find out who to contact about handling the burial (if you can do that on your place) or removal. Nothing makes that last day easy, but knowing who to call and what to do and that you can afford the vet’s fee helps keep your mind clear so you can make the right decisions when the time comes.
Comment by Suburbanbanshee — October 25, 2013 @ 5:00 pm
You probably don’t want to watch the racetrack episode of the agricultural high school anime, Silver Spoon (at least right now, anyway) because it has some upsetting things in it.
But there’s a beautiful scene showing that the Hokkaido drafthorse sledge racing tracks have Buddhist shrines behind the backstretch dedicated to the god of horses, where occasionally beloved racehorses are given Buddhist funerals just like those of people. And they show one. The manga gives a more detailed explanation of the custom.
Comment by GinnyW — October 25, 2013 @ 7:39 pm
I am sorry for your loss, and for the moment when you know it has to happen. But also grateful that Illusion could count on you to the very end.
And fascinated by the details of the process, although I do not personally have horses in either my present or future. There are disadvantages to city living.
Comment by Susan — October 28, 2013 @ 6:26 pm
Elizabeth, my heart goes out to you. And thank you for sharing this: my oldest daughter has lost several beloved horses, but doesn’t like to talk about it. Now I understand a little better what she goes through.