Wednesday, January 27, 2010
From the Moment He was Born
He was forever faithful, always the gentleman; he carried himself with grace and dignity and he had the heart of a Champion
High Sierra's Jack-of-All-Trades
March 20, 2001 - July 6, 2008
From the moment he was born, I knew Jack was special. He was a gorgeous red merle, Australian Shepherd pup, when his eyes finally opened one was sky blue and the other was a beautiful amber color that matched his coat exactly. He had perfect conformation, what we call “type” in the Australian Shepherd breed. Jack was the seventh pup born in a litter of ten to our own Skye on March 20, 2001; it was the first day of spring and beautiful. During the first few weeks I was amazed at how this pup looked, from his beautiful broad, flat head with his perfect ears, right down to his square little box butt! All the pups in Skye's litter were beautiful but Jack stole my heart that day. I held and loved them all every night after work; but I held and loved Jack just a little bit longer. He was my boy from the moment he was born; he was Jack from the beginning "High Sierra's Jack-of-All-Trades."
Jack’s “perfect” conformation isn’t what made him special, it was his tremendous heart, his extreme intelligence, and he was loyal and gentle to a fault. He conducted himself with dignity and grace and he was always a Gentleman even as a pup. Jack had a wonderful sense of humor and he loved to make us laugh! Whether it was by playing tricks on the girls (his two sisters) or by just being the big clown that he was, as long as we laughed he was happy! Early on it was clear that Jack would rather goof off than work, although he did try at times. Jack let the girls handle the work while he acted as sentinel of the ranch; a feat he performed while lying under his tree overlooking the ranch. Later, he became the self pro-claimed "Protector" of all the babies that came to the ranch, be it children, puppies, kittens, chicks, or foals, they were his to guard and he did his job well.
Jack grew from an adorable pup into a beautiful dog inside and out. He had a gorgeous, shiny coat, beautiful bright eyes, and of course "perfect" conformation; not once in his seven years did Jack fight with another dog-it was beneath him, and everyone that met and truly got to know him, fell in love with his kind, gentle, soul, and comical antics.
Two years ago, when he was almost six years old my beautiful Jack, who'd never been sick a day in his life, suffered six "grand mal" seizures, the most violent of seizures, in one day. Epilepsy was ruled out because it shows up a lot earlier in a dog's life. The only other reason they gave us for such violent seizures was a brain tumor. For fifteen months Jack was on Phenobarbital to help control his seizures, it made him lethargic but the seizures were gone. Sadly, the tumor and the drugs took their toll on my gentle boy as he lost the luster in his coat and he developed a skin irritation, but his eyes still held their sparkle and love of life and he could still make us laugh, although he didn't try as often.
On July 6, 2008 between 1:00 a. m. and 8:00 a.m., my gallant, brave Aussie had five grand mal seizures; even his medication couldn’t help him. I stayed up with him through the night praying that he'd hang on until morning; thankfully I was able to talk him through each seizure. I whispered to him to "be easy" and he would relax, my voice calming him. Each seizure was worse than the previous and after the last one he looked into my eyes and I knew what he was asking me. His beautiful eyes were clouded with pain but the love he had for us, his people, was there too. His tremendous heart and spirit had again carried him through these horrible seizures. I gave him his favorite treat of tapioca pudding and when he was able I took him outside for a short walk so he could say good-bye to his ranch he loved so much. I rode with him in the back of the truck while my husband drove us to the vet, and at 9:25 a.m. while I held his beautiful head in my lap and whispered to him that he was such a good boy and that I loved him; my brave, wonderful friend went to the Rainbow Bridge to wait. I was with him on that beautiful first day of spring when he took his first breath and I was with him on that warm summer morning when he took his last. Jack is now sleeping under his tree, where I planted wildflowers for him.
For fifteen months Jack never complained and he met what life dealt him with a courageous heart, spirit, and tremendous dignity. I’ll always love him and be grateful to him for helping me to let him go when it was time.
Rest Easy My Sweet, Valiant Jack-of-All-Trades...
The following poem is for you, Jack, I know in my heart its what you asked of me that morning.
May I go now?
Do you think the time is right?
May I say goodbye to scary days and nights?
I've lived my life and I’ve done my best, a good example I’ve tried to be.
So can I take that step beyond and set my spirit free?
I didn't want to go at first; I fought with all my heart.
But something seems to draw me now to a warm and living light.
I want to go, I really do; it's difficult to stay.
But I will try as best I can to live just one more day,
To give you time to care for me and share your love and fears.
I know you're sad and afraid, because I see it in your tears.
I'll not be far away; I promise that, and I hope you'll always know,
That my spirit will be close to you wherever you may go.
Thank you for loving me, you know I love you too,
That's why it's hard to say goodbye and end this life with you.
So please hold me now just one more time and let me hear you say,
Because you love me so very much, you'll let me go today.
I'll see you in my dreams, my friend...
High Sierra's Jack-of-All-Trades
March 20, 2001 - July 6, 2008
From the moment he was born, I knew Jack was special. He was a gorgeous red merle, Australian Shepherd pup, when his eyes finally opened one was sky blue and the other was a beautiful amber color that matched his coat exactly. He had perfect conformation, what we call “type” in the Australian Shepherd breed. Jack was the seventh pup born in a litter of ten to our own Skye on March 20, 2001; it was the first day of spring and beautiful. During the first few weeks I was amazed at how this pup looked, from his beautiful broad, flat head with his perfect ears, right down to his square little box butt! All the pups in Skye's litter were beautiful but Jack stole my heart that day. I held and loved them all every night after work; but I held and loved Jack just a little bit longer. He was my boy from the moment he was born; he was Jack from the beginning "High Sierra's Jack-of-All-Trades."
Jack’s “perfect” conformation isn’t what made him special, it was his tremendous heart, his extreme intelligence, and he was loyal and gentle to a fault. He conducted himself with dignity and grace and he was always a Gentleman even as a pup. Jack had a wonderful sense of humor and he loved to make us laugh! Whether it was by playing tricks on the girls (his two sisters) or by just being the big clown that he was, as long as we laughed he was happy! Early on it was clear that Jack would rather goof off than work, although he did try at times. Jack let the girls handle the work while he acted as sentinel of the ranch; a feat he performed while lying under his tree overlooking the ranch. Later, he became the self pro-claimed "Protector" of all the babies that came to the ranch, be it children, puppies, kittens, chicks, or foals, they were his to guard and he did his job well.
Jack grew from an adorable pup into a beautiful dog inside and out. He had a gorgeous, shiny coat, beautiful bright eyes, and of course "perfect" conformation; not once in his seven years did Jack fight with another dog-it was beneath him, and everyone that met and truly got to know him, fell in love with his kind, gentle, soul, and comical antics.
Two years ago, when he was almost six years old my beautiful Jack, who'd never been sick a day in his life, suffered six "grand mal" seizures, the most violent of seizures, in one day. Epilepsy was ruled out because it shows up a lot earlier in a dog's life. The only other reason they gave us for such violent seizures was a brain tumor. For fifteen months Jack was on Phenobarbital to help control his seizures, it made him lethargic but the seizures were gone. Sadly, the tumor and the drugs took their toll on my gentle boy as he lost the luster in his coat and he developed a skin irritation, but his eyes still held their sparkle and love of life and he could still make us laugh, although he didn't try as often.
On July 6, 2008 between 1:00 a. m. and 8:00 a.m., my gallant, brave Aussie had five grand mal seizures; even his medication couldn’t help him. I stayed up with him through the night praying that he'd hang on until morning; thankfully I was able to talk him through each seizure. I whispered to him to "be easy" and he would relax, my voice calming him. Each seizure was worse than the previous and after the last one he looked into my eyes and I knew what he was asking me. His beautiful eyes were clouded with pain but the love he had for us, his people, was there too. His tremendous heart and spirit had again carried him through these horrible seizures. I gave him his favorite treat of tapioca pudding and when he was able I took him outside for a short walk so he could say good-bye to his ranch he loved so much. I rode with him in the back of the truck while my husband drove us to the vet, and at 9:25 a.m. while I held his beautiful head in my lap and whispered to him that he was such a good boy and that I loved him; my brave, wonderful friend went to the Rainbow Bridge to wait. I was with him on that beautiful first day of spring when he took his first breath and I was with him on that warm summer morning when he took his last. Jack is now sleeping under his tree, where I planted wildflowers for him.
For fifteen months Jack never complained and he met what life dealt him with a courageous heart, spirit, and tremendous dignity. I’ll always love him and be grateful to him for helping me to let him go when it was time.
Rest Easy My Sweet, Valiant Jack-of-All-Trades...
The following poem is for you, Jack, I know in my heart its what you asked of me that morning.
May I go now?
Do you think the time is right?
May I say goodbye to scary days and nights?
I've lived my life and I’ve done my best, a good example I’ve tried to be.
So can I take that step beyond and set my spirit free?
I didn't want to go at first; I fought with all my heart.
But something seems to draw me now to a warm and living light.
I want to go, I really do; it's difficult to stay.
But I will try as best I can to live just one more day,
To give you time to care for me and share your love and fears.
I know you're sad and afraid, because I see it in your tears.
I'll not be far away; I promise that, and I hope you'll always know,
That my spirit will be close to you wherever you may go.
Thank you for loving me, you know I love you too,
That's why it's hard to say goodbye and end this life with you.
So please hold me now just one more time and let me hear you say,
Because you love me so very much, you'll let me go today.
I'll see you in my dreams, my friend...
My Friend Flicka
1986 – October 12, 2004
The best place to start anything is at the beginning and so I begin with a little liver chestnut Arabian mare with a beautiful long flaxen mane & tail, who I named Flicka. She was the reason I started rescuing horses back in 2004. Her story is a sad one but unfortunately not at all uncommon.
In August of 2004, I got a call from a friend of mine about a horse that was in really bad shape and could I please help, I told her I’d see what I could do. When I got there I and I saw the condition of little mare I felt physically ill. I’ve been around horses my entire life and I had never seen anything like this, I could see every single bone in her body, it hurt just to look at her, She was in about ½ acre paddock that at one time probably was full of lush grass for her to eat but in August there wasn’t anything but dirt. There wasn’t a weed, the branches on the trees just outside her paddock were eaten back, but the worst thing was there was no manure. She had been eating her own manure to survive! Then I noticed that she had a full set of shoes on which meant they had been riding her, which her owner later confirmed!
Her owner was my friend’s neighbor and it was just by chance that he told her he had a horse he was trying to “get rid of.” I would like to take a moment here to explain my theory about that phrase. For as long as I can remember people have been saying, “I have to get rid of my dog”, or cat, horse, rabbit, etc. By using that term it’s made it easier for people to dispose of their animals for whatever reason. I used to say it too but that day that phrase took on a whole new meaning for me and I haven’t used it since. You “get rid” of trash not living breathing creatures. Okay, now the rest of the story.
The man had met us out there and after I got over my initial shock at the condition of the mare I became angry. If I was going to be successful with this rescue I knew I had to reel that anger in so I could speak to him in a calm, polite manner. When I asked him how she had gotten in such bad shape, his reply was that after she had eaten all the grass in her “pasture” she started getting a little thin but he didn’t think she looked too bad! I then asked him how often he fed her, he said he’d throw her a flake every couple of days. Horses need at least 15-20 pounds of feed a day –more if you’re riding them a flake of hay weighs about 3 pounds. I think the cruelest thing Flicka had to endure was watching as two other horse in separate paddocks were being fed every day while she was starving.
Her owner had placed an ad in the Pennysaver, it was free if the item being sold was under $300; he priced her at $275. I offered him $100 for her but he wouldn’t take it; we finally agreed at $150 after I informed him that even the killer buyers weren’t going to pay his price considering the condition she was in. I felt pretty good; I had remained calm and politely negotiated for my first rescue, Flicka was mine. I called my vet for an appointment for her exam. But then I faced a new challenge – I couldn’t catch her, she didn’t trust humans period. It took me 3 days to catch her and I had to trick her to do it.
Day 1
I didn’t pressure her I just fed her a little hay – you have to be very careful when bringing a horse that thin back up to a normal weight – lots of little meals. In her paddock there was a small round pen I left her some hay in the middle of it thinking I could shut the gate while she was eating. Even as hungry as she was she wouldn’t go in that pen. I left thinking if I were gone she’d relax enough to eat. When I went back that afternoon to feed her again the hay was uneaten. I decided to put it just outside the round pen and when I went back for the third time that day she’d eaten it, thank God. I made four trips to feed her that day the last time was at 10:00 p.m.
Day 2
She still wouldn’t go into the middle of the round pen so I brought her hay about 5 feet inside and left. When I went back later the hay was gone. I had to get her into the pen so I could catch her because the vet was coming the next day. I decided to take drastic measures — I dumped her water that night. In the summer a horse will drink 20 gallons or more, of water a day, I knew she’d be thirsty in the morning, which would give me an advantage.
Day 3
My vet was coming I had to catch her! When I got there I put a bucket in the round opposite of the gate and while she was drinking I walked over and shut the gate. I went in walked right up to her and put a halter on her, she didn’t like it but she knew she was caught. We floated her teeth–a horse’s teeth grow throughout it’s life and they can get jagged points not only making it difficult to chew but they can’t utilize their feed properly as well. The vet uses a rasp (file) and “floats” the upper and lower teeth making them even again, this should be done annually. Flicka was also wormed; horses should be wormed every 6 – 8 weeks, vaccinated, which included an extra vaccination for West Nile Disease. Unlike other vaccines it takes 4 weeks for the West Nile vaccine to protect the horse from the virus. I was finally able to take Flicka home.
It was only 1-½ miles to our ranch but I was really worried that she was going to go down in the trailer but she didn’t, thank God. Poor Flicka was so mistrustful of people she wouldn’t even look at me when I entered her pen, it made me wonder how many people had treated her badly; my guess was probably quite a few. Over the next few weeks of proper feed and time just sitting in her paddock quietly she had gained some weight and began to come around, nickering softly to me when I came with her breakfast, and taking tentative steps toward me. I was finally able to brush her and untangle her glorious mane and tail after 4 weeks. Flicka was steadily putting on weight and had gained about 130 pounds but still needed at least another 150 pounds. Our nights were getting chilly so I bought Flicka a nice warm blanket; horses use up to 40% of their energy to keep themselves warm so if you’re trying to keep much needed weight on a horse you blanket them at night.
I had wanted to give her a bath she so desperately needed one but I had to wait for her to gain enough weight first. It was October and our Indian summer so one warm day after Flicka had been with me for about 6 weeks my husband hooked up the hose in the laundry room so I could bathe her with warm water. She was very good while I bathed her and after all the years of dirt was gone her coat was shiny and her mane & tail were almost white and felt like silk, Flicka was beautiful but still thin. She felt so good afterwards and as I let her eat the green grass while the sun dried her she actually got playful! It felt so good to see her happy that I kept her out and played with her and while she ate I sat down in the grass to watch her. I’d been sitting with her for about 15 minutes when Flicka did the most amazing thing, she lay down next to me and took a nap! In just 6 short weeks my girl had given me the greatest gift she had – her trust. It brought tears to my eyes – I was humbled by her willingness to forgive.
The next morning, I looked out my kitchen window to see Flicka, she lying down in her paddock; I didn’t worry because horses lay down. But 10 minutes later I looked again and I saw her struggling and unable to get up I thought she might have gotten tangled in her blanket straps. I ran down and took her blanket off and encouraged her to stand, she couldn’t her hind end looked paralyzed. I felt her legs they were very cold which meant she had been down for quite awhile. I called my vet but I already knew what it was – West Nile! No cure! I couldn’t believe it was happening she had been so healthy & happy the day before. When my vet came he confirmed my suspicions and as I held her beautiful sweet head in my lap she was humanely euthanized, she went quickly and peacefully.
Even though she had been vaccinated, Flicka didn’t have the strength to fight it off. If she had been properly taken care of: fed, vaccinated, wormed, dental, etc. she might still be alive today. I take solace in the fact that in her last 6 weeks she was never hungry, she was loved, and she learned to trust.
I wish I could have gotten a picture of Flicka but at the time I didn't have a digital camera.
Rest Easy My Friend Flicka!
I'll see you in my dreams...
The best place to start anything is at the beginning and so I begin with a little liver chestnut Arabian mare with a beautiful long flaxen mane & tail, who I named Flicka. She was the reason I started rescuing horses back in 2004. Her story is a sad one but unfortunately not at all uncommon.
In August of 2004, I got a call from a friend of mine about a horse that was in really bad shape and could I please help, I told her I’d see what I could do. When I got there I and I saw the condition of little mare I felt physically ill. I’ve been around horses my entire life and I had never seen anything like this, I could see every single bone in her body, it hurt just to look at her, She was in about ½ acre paddock that at one time probably was full of lush grass for her to eat but in August there wasn’t anything but dirt. There wasn’t a weed, the branches on the trees just outside her paddock were eaten back, but the worst thing was there was no manure. She had been eating her own manure to survive! Then I noticed that she had a full set of shoes on which meant they had been riding her, which her owner later confirmed!
Her owner was my friend’s neighbor and it was just by chance that he told her he had a horse he was trying to “get rid of.” I would like to take a moment here to explain my theory about that phrase. For as long as I can remember people have been saying, “I have to get rid of my dog”, or cat, horse, rabbit, etc. By using that term it’s made it easier for people to dispose of their animals for whatever reason. I used to say it too but that day that phrase took on a whole new meaning for me and I haven’t used it since. You “get rid” of trash not living breathing creatures. Okay, now the rest of the story.
The man had met us out there and after I got over my initial shock at the condition of the mare I became angry. If I was going to be successful with this rescue I knew I had to reel that anger in so I could speak to him in a calm, polite manner. When I asked him how she had gotten in such bad shape, his reply was that after she had eaten all the grass in her “pasture” she started getting a little thin but he didn’t think she looked too bad! I then asked him how often he fed her, he said he’d throw her a flake every couple of days. Horses need at least 15-20 pounds of feed a day –more if you’re riding them a flake of hay weighs about 3 pounds. I think the cruelest thing Flicka had to endure was watching as two other horse in separate paddocks were being fed every day while she was starving.
Her owner had placed an ad in the Pennysaver, it was free if the item being sold was under $300; he priced her at $275. I offered him $100 for her but he wouldn’t take it; we finally agreed at $150 after I informed him that even the killer buyers weren’t going to pay his price considering the condition she was in. I felt pretty good; I had remained calm and politely negotiated for my first rescue, Flicka was mine. I called my vet for an appointment for her exam. But then I faced a new challenge – I couldn’t catch her, she didn’t trust humans period. It took me 3 days to catch her and I had to trick her to do it.
Day 1
I didn’t pressure her I just fed her a little hay – you have to be very careful when bringing a horse that thin back up to a normal weight – lots of little meals. In her paddock there was a small round pen I left her some hay in the middle of it thinking I could shut the gate while she was eating. Even as hungry as she was she wouldn’t go in that pen. I left thinking if I were gone she’d relax enough to eat. When I went back that afternoon to feed her again the hay was uneaten. I decided to put it just outside the round pen and when I went back for the third time that day she’d eaten it, thank God. I made four trips to feed her that day the last time was at 10:00 p.m.
Day 2
She still wouldn’t go into the middle of the round pen so I brought her hay about 5 feet inside and left. When I went back later the hay was gone. I had to get her into the pen so I could catch her because the vet was coming the next day. I decided to take drastic measures — I dumped her water that night. In the summer a horse will drink 20 gallons or more, of water a day, I knew she’d be thirsty in the morning, which would give me an advantage.
Day 3
My vet was coming I had to catch her! When I got there I put a bucket in the round opposite of the gate and while she was drinking I walked over and shut the gate. I went in walked right up to her and put a halter on her, she didn’t like it but she knew she was caught. We floated her teeth–a horse’s teeth grow throughout it’s life and they can get jagged points not only making it difficult to chew but they can’t utilize their feed properly as well. The vet uses a rasp (file) and “floats” the upper and lower teeth making them even again, this should be done annually. Flicka was also wormed; horses should be wormed every 6 – 8 weeks, vaccinated, which included an extra vaccination for West Nile Disease. Unlike other vaccines it takes 4 weeks for the West Nile vaccine to protect the horse from the virus. I was finally able to take Flicka home.
It was only 1-½ miles to our ranch but I was really worried that she was going to go down in the trailer but she didn’t, thank God. Poor Flicka was so mistrustful of people she wouldn’t even look at me when I entered her pen, it made me wonder how many people had treated her badly; my guess was probably quite a few. Over the next few weeks of proper feed and time just sitting in her paddock quietly she had gained some weight and began to come around, nickering softly to me when I came with her breakfast, and taking tentative steps toward me. I was finally able to brush her and untangle her glorious mane and tail after 4 weeks. Flicka was steadily putting on weight and had gained about 130 pounds but still needed at least another 150 pounds. Our nights were getting chilly so I bought Flicka a nice warm blanket; horses use up to 40% of their energy to keep themselves warm so if you’re trying to keep much needed weight on a horse you blanket them at night.
I had wanted to give her a bath she so desperately needed one but I had to wait for her to gain enough weight first. It was October and our Indian summer so one warm day after Flicka had been with me for about 6 weeks my husband hooked up the hose in the laundry room so I could bathe her with warm water. She was very good while I bathed her and after all the years of dirt was gone her coat was shiny and her mane & tail were almost white and felt like silk, Flicka was beautiful but still thin. She felt so good afterwards and as I let her eat the green grass while the sun dried her she actually got playful! It felt so good to see her happy that I kept her out and played with her and while she ate I sat down in the grass to watch her. I’d been sitting with her for about 15 minutes when Flicka did the most amazing thing, she lay down next to me and took a nap! In just 6 short weeks my girl had given me the greatest gift she had – her trust. It brought tears to my eyes – I was humbled by her willingness to forgive.
The next morning, I looked out my kitchen window to see Flicka, she lying down in her paddock; I didn’t worry because horses lay down. But 10 minutes later I looked again and I saw her struggling and unable to get up I thought she might have gotten tangled in her blanket straps. I ran down and took her blanket off and encouraged her to stand, she couldn’t her hind end looked paralyzed. I felt her legs they were very cold which meant she had been down for quite awhile. I called my vet but I already knew what it was – West Nile! No cure! I couldn’t believe it was happening she had been so healthy & happy the day before. When my vet came he confirmed my suspicions and as I held her beautiful sweet head in my lap she was humanely euthanized, she went quickly and peacefully.
Even though she had been vaccinated, Flicka didn’t have the strength to fight it off. If she had been properly taken care of: fed, vaccinated, wormed, dental, etc. she might still be alive today. I take solace in the fact that in her last 6 weeks she was never hungry, she was loved, and she learned to trust.
I wish I could have gotten a picture of Flicka but at the time I didn't have a digital camera.
Rest Easy My Friend Flicka!
I'll see you in my dreams...
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