Goodbye, My Friend

I am not really sure how to begin this. It has been a rotten couple of weeks. In fact, Ozzy's passing isn't even the worst news we've gotten around here lately. It's extra hard because I would normally come home, wrap my arms around his neck, and cry into his mane, and I can't do that now either. True, raw grief is new to me and I'm discovering it step by painful step.

Needless to say, I didn't have the words to write about Ozzy's passing when it happened.

However, I started a public blog largely to chronicle our adventures together. Ozzy had one heck of a following online. In fact, he met several of his "fans" over the years in person. I didn't realize how many people met, rode, and loved him until I started seeing everyone's posts online. I knew he was special to me. He was my heart horse, after all. I really honestly believe that he was just special, period. I can say with confidence that there will never be another horse like him.

Immediately after his passing, the last thing I wanted to do was look at another horse ever again, but because my life is a cosmic joke, they're sort of what I do for a living. We'll get to that...

Anyway...

So many people have faithfully followed our journey over the last sixteen years (!!) You guys have cheered us through our victories; offered me a shoulder to cry on, an outlet to vent, and some really awesome advice; and even helped fund some of Ozzy's medical bills over the years. Ozzy has been the subject of gorgeous artwork and hilarious cartoons. He has made international news and national television and the front page of MIT's newspaper. We traveled all over the east coast, from Maine to Maryland, and people knew him from a distance everywhere we went.

As a result, I feel like I really owe everyone the full story of why I let my beloved horse go at not-quite-17. So many of you were here when our story began, and you deserve to see how it ends.

There has been a void on this blog since Ozzy's passing. I have picked up the laptop on a few occasions, and haven't known where to start. There is a lot going on around here lately, and I have many photos, stories, and updates to share. I couldn't bring myself to write about anything else without addressing Ozzy's death directly. Anything else seemed trivial. My stomach turned any time I thought about typing it all out, though, so the blog has stagnated for three weeks.

I miss blogging so it's time.

(Plus, you know, people who have no manners (and who have never had a conversation with me before) have either messaged me to say things like, "I just scrolled through about a hundred photos to see what happened to Ozzy and I don't see anything. Can you tell me?" or, worse, have made wild guessed such as, "Did he colic?" No. First of all, he never colicked a day in his life. Secondly, RUDE. You would never ask that about a human who passed, would you? "What happened? Cancer? Suicide? Car accident?)

The short version is that Ozzy's body could no longer keep up with his enormous heart. The long version is below.

One last selfie for the road.

For those of you who haven't been around for sixteen years, Ozzy never should have made it past birth. He was born red bag in the middle of an unseasonably warm afternoon in April. If my boss hadn't happened to pull up the driveway at that exact moment, he would have certainly suffocated and died. Even with the lucky timing, Ozzy inhaled a ton of amniotic fluid, landing himself with aspiration pneumonia, sepsis, and a three week long hospital stay that included blood transfusions and a fifteen thousand dollar vet bill. He was also a dummy foal. 

I have long been aware of the fact that any years that Ozzy had were a miracle in and of themselves. When Ozzy was diagnosed with EPM in 2014, I started to get the unnerving feeling that he wasn't going to make it to twenty. Even though Ozzy made as full a recovery as you can make from EPM, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still going to meet an early end. 

This past fall, that feeling intensified. I hinted on the blog that Ozzy was having some issues.

At first, he started to look a bit wobbly behind and I wondered if he was having a relapse of EPM. I decided to monitor his symptoms, but not pursue further treatment. Ozzy was happy, otherwise healthy, and formally retired. Frankly, I didn't have a few thousand dollars to spend on him again. The neuro symptoms never progressed, and I still caught Ozzy tearing around his pasture at mach ten on a pretty regular basis. He would frolic and roll and get up and down easily. 

This year, Ozzy also had a harder time keeping weight on than usual. He has never been an easy keeper, but since he's moved home, he's been fat and happy. I already feed free choice alfalfa mix. I upped Ozzy's high-fat grain intake and wormed him. When my vet came to do sheaths and teeth, I asked him to score Ozzy's body condition, and he rated him a perfect 5, telling me he actually looked really good (and to stop comparing him to a certain Fat!Pony). All the same, observant blog readers noticed that Ozzy was wearing a blanket this year, for the first time since he was in regular work and clipped. I just didn't want him burning off any extra calories that he didn't have to spare.

Ozzy has had a lot of injuries and mishaps over the years (most of them resulting from his six years in training as a racehorse). His conformation was shaky to begin with, and tallying up all his scars and weaknesses felt like playing a game of Russian Roulette. Which of these issues would kill him the fastest?

In the end, it was his right front leg that did him in.

Ozzy first bowed that tendon when he was two years old. He got six months stall rest and then started back to training.

As a four year old, just as he was getting ready to qualify to race, he pulled the suspensory in the same leg. Then, to add insult to injury, he decided to play with the standing wrap in his stall and ended up cording the leg. He had a visible white scar about halfway up his cannon bone for the rest of time. I remember my boss, who was the most calm and patient person I could have hoped to work for, red-faced, ranting about the leg. He was certain Ozzy would have to be euthanized due to the extent of the damage to the leg. (Turns out he was right, but it would take another 13 years for it to come to that.)

An older, wiser me would have never taken on a horse with that kind of lameness history, and that's disregarding the fact that he also injured both hind legs at the track. Luckily, I was young and naive and in love with the shaggy-haired gelding in the second to last stall in the breezeway.

Despite everything, Ozzy managed to make it into an endurance career. We did several LD's and conquered our first and second 50's. Then, in 2011, when Ozzy was ten years old, we went to Maryland to try to conquer the Foxcatcher 50.

While coming to the covered bridge near the end of the first 25 mile loop, Ozzy took a bad step coming over some slippery rocks. Being the stoic guy that he always was, he recovered quickly and gave almost no indication that anything was amiss, other than slowing down a bit over the next couple of miles. At the hold, he pulsed down quickly and scored A's on all his metabolics, but when I trotted him down and back, Dr. Nick informed me that my horse was lame.

Back home, the lameness didn't resolve in a few days, and I called my vet out to do a full exam. We found that the right front fetlock was puffy and, as my vet put it, "pissed off". X-rays revealed that the injury was no big deal. They also showed that Ozzy had an old, healed avulsion fracture in that same leg.

So, by the time Ozzy was ten years old, that right front leg had sustained a bowed tendon, pulled suspensory, massive soft tissue damage from cording, avulsion fracture, and now arthritis in the fetlock. Later that year, I would go on to have Ozzy's hocks injected, and I did the fetlock too, since he was already at the clinic.

Each time Ozzy injured the leg, I wondered if it was time to retire him. Each time, I would talk to my vet. Each time, Ozzy would make a miraculous comeback and be sound and cleared for work. We got really good at time off and easing back into it.

By last spring, Ozzy was back in work and looking sounder than he had in a long time. I started to make casual plans for the year. I cherished every ride we had, knowing that we'd been riding on borrowed time for quite a while.

And then we went to the Assunpink and Ozzy and Fina got loose, and I found Ozzy standing on three legs. That right front was swollen and hot and he was miserable. I was worried that was the end right then and there. When my vet came out, he didn't even bother to do imaging because there was so much fresh damage. The saving grace was that the leg was already mostly scar tissue, which meant that it would heal faster than an initial injury. Because of all the past issues, Ozzy's chances at recovering were actually better than they would have otherwise been.

Back to poultice, wrap, and rest we went. Ultrasounds revealed that the suspensory branches and deep digital flexor tendon were both aggravated.

Once again, Ozzy beat the odds and recovered. He came sound and I got to enjoy a handful of mostly-walking rides at the indoor. The leg was ugly, but it was cold and hard and not bothering him at all.

In the fall, I officially decided to retire Ozzy completely. He was sound in the pasture and I wanted to keep him around as long as possible. It wasn't worth the risk of another injury. When he started to struggle with his weight, I knew I'd made the right decision. It was hard to retire Ozzy. He loved having a job, and would pretty much shove JR jealously out of the way if a trailer came to the house. He was a smart horse who did best when his brain was busy. He seemed to settle well into this final retirement, though, which confirmed in my mind that I'd made the right call.

I had this terrible feeling that he wasn't going to make it through the winter, and I told Mike as much. Mike seemed surprised. Ozzy was still his happy, perky self, and nothing seemed obviously amiss. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling.

And then we had this horrible winter, with the constant freezing and thawing. Rain, snow, mud, freezing on repeat, endlessly. The ground was rutted and hard, then soft and slick, then hard again. In the end, it was mother nature that dealt the final blow. Ozzy remained sound, but he was clearly getting tired. He was spending a lot of time lying down. He had no trouble getting up, and he seemed to enjoy his long naps, but I noticed that he was no longer running around the field like he used to.

JR had also started to bully Ozzy. JR has always been in charge, but he's a fair and benevolent herd leader. This winter, however, he started to be rougher with Ozzy, pushing him around and trying to chase him off the hay. I knew it was his instinct kicking in. Ozzy was the weakest link in the herd and was going to get everyone eaten by wolves. I think JR knew the time was coming.

On Sunday, March 18th, Mike and I went to Bluestone to get a load of hay. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. It felt like spring might finally be making an appearance.

We came home to find Ozzy down in the shed. It was unusual for him to be lying down in the run in. He was always so careful not to let JR corner him in there, and being down made him more vulnerable. Ozzy spent a lot of time napping and he spent a lot of time hanging out in his shed, but I don't think I ever saw him lie down in the shed before.

With a sinking feeling, I walked over the fence and watched. Ozzy looked uncomfortable. He kept alternating between lying flat on his side and sitting up. Whenever he was sternal, he kept shifting his legs like he wanted to get up, but couldn't quite commit to making the effort. I don't know how long I stood there watching my horse, but the longer I watched, the more the pit in my stomach grew.

Finally, I trudged across the muddy pasture and to the shed. As soon as I approached, Ozzy leaped to his feet. I was relieved that he wasn't unable to get up. I always said that the moment he couldn't get up on his own, I'd let him go. My relief was short lived however. Ozzy was resting his right front, barely touching the ground with his toe. I ran my hand down the leg and groaned. Just below the back of his knee there was a hard lump about the size of a baseball. Probably the only part of the leg that wasn't scar tissue had given out at last.

I picked up the right front and cleaned the hoof, hoping against hope that there would be something in the foot that was preventing Ozzy from putting it down. The lump was hard and cold. Maybe that wasn't the problem? Nothing. Then I tried to pick up the good leg, just to see if Ozzy could put weight on the right leg. The answer was a clear and resounding no. Not only did Ozzy refuse to pick up his left front, he reared and spun away from me.

Tears welled in my eyes as I pulled Ozzy's blanket off and marched back across the paddock. Mike was cleaning the water trough, unaware of the internal battled I'd been waging for the last half hour or so.

"I'm... uh... I'm gonna call Eli," I choked out. "I think it's time."
Poor Mike looked taken aback, but he knew exactly what I meant.

I dialed my vet and managed to keep a level voice as I said, "Can you come out? Ozzy's really struggling on that right front leg. I need you to look at him and tell me if it's time..."
"Ok. I can be right over. Do you want to let him have one last day in the sun and do it in the morning?"
"No. I don't need to make him wait."

On autopilot, I walked out and haltered Ozzy. I winced as he limped painfully behind me out the gate.

Mike quietly went up to the barn and made a hot mash and retrieved a bag of carrots for me. He brought down peppermints and went upstairs to grab his camera.

Meanwhile, I groomed Ozzy one last time, spending extra moments on all his favorite itchy spots.

"I am so sorry, buddy,"I told him, choking back a sob. "I love you so much. I hope I'm wrong, but if you need to go, it's ok. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

Ozzy sensed that I was upset and did what Ozzy always did best, pulling out all his goofiest antics to make me laugh. He wiggled his lip on my sweatshirt and licked my face like a dog. Then he looked at me with those bright eyes as if to say, "Why are you sad? Don't be sad! Look how silly I am." His right front rested uneasily, barely touching the ground, and I cried bitterly.

Mike came back and I said, "I can't believe I'm about to do this. I can't believe I'm going to kill my horse. He's so happy. I feel like I'm betraying him...."

We let Ozzy graze on the grass that was just starting to grow in the yard while we waited for the vet to come. Mike took pictures while I tried my best not to fall apart.

Eating a hot mash. You can see the gnarly RF.

I didn't know Mike was taking this photo.

Ozzy had a bite mark on his face from JR :(

Still being goofy and sweet.

Kisses

And back rubs

And hugs

By this point, I was crying pretty hard...

I called a handful of people while we waited. There were just some people who needed to know before I did the deed, who didn't deserve to find out in a Facebook post later that day. Erin was right in Lambertville and said she would come over. I told her I might be jumping the gun and that I really hoped I was wrong, but I thought this was it.

When the vet showed up, JR started to get uneasy. At first, when we pulled Ozzy out of the field, JR was jealous. He was hamming it up and looking for attention and treats. I told him, "Trust me, you don't want what Ozzy is getting."

With the vet's car in the driveway, JR started to pace and nicker. He seemed to be raising the alarm. "Ozzy, don't go! It's a trap!!!"

My vet walked over to Ozzy, and Ozzy greeted him enthusiastically. He loved his vet.

The vet ran his hand down Ozzy's leg and let out a low whistle. That was pretty much all I needed to hear.

We did put hoof testers  on him just to be sure. There was no response. "Damn," I muttered. "This would have been a hell of a time for him to have his first abscess." Ozzy had a lot of physical weaknesses, but his feet were always rock solid.

"I've never seen him this lame," my vet told me. That said a lot. I've used the same vet for the eleven years that I've owned Ozzy. He has seen us through a lot of injuries and accidents. He was right, though. This was different from everything else.

The last bit of good tissue in the leg was shredded. It was not going to heal. I could put Ozzy in a stall and wrap him and bute him up and keep him in there until I was ready to let go, but what would the point be? A few more weeks on a busted leg, unable to do anything but stand there looking uncomfortable? No.

This would be far from my first euthanasia, but it would be the first time I was putting one of my own down. And this was my heart horse. I need him. Still, I always say better a day too soon than a moment too late. I didn't want to come home one day to find him struggling to get up or suffering or, or, or... With my luck, it would happen during a blizzard or while I was away. No. It was time.

My vet waited patiently while I said my final goodbyes. I gave Ozzy so many treats that he definitely would have colicked if we hadn't put him down. I was going to wait for Erin, but she was still 45 minutes out, and I didn't want to make my vet wait. It would make no difference to Ozzy. I knew Erin would understand.

We got the spiel from the vet: what to expect, the process of dying, how this was going to go down. I nodded, numbly. I knew how it would go, and Mike had seen Boo Boo when she passed, but I wanted Mike to hear it one more time. He asked if I wanted to be there and I replied, "Of course," with a gusto that surprised me.

Of course this had to happen on the day of the big bicycle road race that runs right past our house. Hundreds of bikes were whizzing by all afternoon, right along the front of the pasture. The last thing I wanted to do was kill my horse in front of the entire NJ biking community. This meant walking Ozzy a little ways away, where he would be hidden by one of the out buildings on the property.

He limped horribly as he struggled to follow me. "Good boy," I told him. "It's almost over. It won't hurt much longer. Just a few more steps." That horse never did tell me no. I hated this.

JR whinnied loudly and ran to the alleyway, standing by the gate and staring, stock-still and wide-eyed.

"Are you ready?" my vet asked, softly.
"No. I'll never be ready. But we better do it now before I change my mind."

I cradled Ozzy's head while my vet found the vein. Ozzy "assisted". "Oh is it time for Coggins already?" I stroked Ozzy's broad forehead, smoothed his forelock and told him over and over that he was a good boy and that I loved him.

My vet took the lead rope as the drugs took effect, and guided Ozzy expertly to the ground. I will forever be grateful for how smoothly and quietly he went down. As his body hit the earth, JR gave a piercing shriek, unlike any noise I've ever heard another horse make. He galloped frantically around the pasture three times, then slid to a stop at the gate, quivering.

It was too much and I fell apart completely. My vet swiped at the corners of his eyes. Beside me, Mike wept as he wrapped an arm around me.

I rushed to Ozzy's side, pulling his halter off and sobbing into his neck. Between wails I thanked my vet for taking such good care of us for eleven years. Eventually, he got in his car and left. I sat in the driveway for way longer than is probably normal,  with my dead horse's head in my lap, shivering and crying like I've never cried in my life.

Eventually, I snapped out of it enough to call the removal company and schedule a pick up.

Then I walked silently over to the pasture and retrieved JR. I walked him over to Ozzy to let him say goodbye. I think he knew already, but I wanted to give him a chance to process the information. I suspect it's not the first time JR has lost a friend. I also think animals understand death far better than we do. JR sniffed Ozzy, nudged him once, and calmly looked over his shoulder at me in sad acceptance. "Oh..."

Erin and her boyfriend arrived. I had never met him before, and I felt guilty that this was going to be his first impression of me. He took it all in stride. What a champ! If they ever get married, I'll have a good story to tell at the wedding...

Some time later, Erin left, and I retreated into the apartment to curl up on the couch and cry some more. I asked Mike to go get Ozzy's tail and forelock. I didn't have the heart to see him without all his wonderful hair. He had the best hair.

When the removal company arrived, I made Mike pay them while I hid inside and pulled all the shades shut. JR had been doing ok, but when they took the body, he lost it completely. I am so glad that Ozzy got to live out the last four years of his life right outside my window. Having him in the backyard has been a dream come true. In the days following his death, however, there was nothing worse than having JR at home. He paced the pasture and called sadly. I would wake up in the middle of the night, after I finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep, because I'd hear JR neighing. I would wake up and think, "Why is JR making all that racket... oh, right..." It was horrible.

I will say that JR seems to be doing well now. There are two other horses on the property so he is not alone. He spends more time in the shed than he used to, but has stopped calling and pacing. We've been spoiling him with extra visits and treats and he enjoys the attention. He lived the first 12 years of his life as a show horse and is probably familiar with individual turn out. His only complaint is that he's on a diet now that Ozzy isn't there, requiring free choice alfalfa. A few people have offered to give us companion horses, but I'm honestly in no mood.

I saved a ton of money on board and hay? No? Too soon?

The weeks that have followed have been an emotional roller coaster. The grief comes in waves. Sometimes I know what will trigger it. Other times I cry because the hose won't coil neatly at work. I burst into tears while galloping Harry and all three of us had to pull up. Harry was baffled. No other exercise rider has blubbered into his mane before. My bosses, thankfully, have been very supportive and understanding.

I've been keeping busy, which helps. It also helps to talk about him. There are so many happy and funny memories. He did so much in his short time on the planet.

What has really touched me is the kindness from those around me. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve so many loving people in my life, but I am touched by everyone who has reached out. I've gotten cards and flowers and a gift certificate for a horse hair bracelet (I have it in my shopping cart, but haven't been able to hit the "order now" button, for some reason).

These showed up on my doorstep from Marissa, Amy, Lyss, and Dawn.

What I have loved best are the heart felt tributes that people have posted online. He touched so many lives, and it was lovely to remember little things I've forgotten, and to see photos that people hadn't shared previously. 

I think Mike's tribute didn't leave a dry eye in the house:

"My dear friend. 

Your name says it all. Oz the Great! You were a legend long before I even knew you and you will forever remain that. You touched so many lives it is hard to explain with words. I knew I had to prove myself to you as a worthy companion for Dom but I knew from the first day I met you that we were going to be good friends. And boy were we. I'll always keep your memory close to me. I'll always remember our time hanging out together whether it was our serious talks or just goofing around out in the field. Or your back rubs while I cleaned and filled your water I'll always remember your fraggle forelock and your big roman nose. And how you turned into a woolly mammoth in the winters. I want to thank you for teaching Dom all that you did because if you didn't I would have never gotten to know you. Thank you for giving me my first ride. Thank you for teaching me how to post and pacing when I wasn't ready. Thank you for always taking care of Dom especially when I wasn't around. And don't worry my friend I will take it from here. I promise you I will always keep her safe and treat her right. Go find my Dad and Larry I'm sure you will find good company with them. So even though this is my last goodbye you will never be forgotten. Rest easy my friend and may you gallop strong in endless fields."

 

Then Sarah shared this blog post about our glamour shoot back in 2014.

Rachel, one of my old SRF volunteers shared these photos from ~2010.

My brother wrote:

"Eight years ago, my sister Dom Turner brought her horse Ozzy up from New Jersey to Boston for a day of "Pony Rides" during Bad Ideas. It was one of the few times I actually interacted with Ozzy in person, but for the ~decade-and-a-half he was in my sister's life, I heard countless stories about this Crazy horse, his remarkable personality, and their adventures together. He was, in many ways, part of the family. Oz the Great will be greatly missed."

 

Ozzy was around for more than half my life. There is a gaping hole where he used to be. I still catch myself scanning the pasture to see what that goofball is up to now. I still mentally check if I have enough grain to get him through the week. I had my farrier out to do JR's feet recently, and it was so hard on both of us. Ozzy is still his profile picture on FB, and he lost his horse to colic recently. I told him, "I just picture Ozzy and Cisco in the great soy field in the sky, jumping ditches at a full gallop."

Three days after we laid Ozzy to rest, we got another Nor'easter, which beat our pastures, dropped trees, and covered the world in ice and snow. It was the first storm of the year that I didn't spend the whole time fretting about whether Ozzy was ok out there or not, and it gave me peace to know that I had done the right thing, even if being here without him hurts...

I could spend hours recapping our countless adventures, and sharing photos, and talking about the different ways in which Ozzy changed my life. He saw me through every single boyfriend, high school, college, and so many different jobs. He introduced me to endurance and made me into the rider I am today. In many ways Ozzy was not a good or talented or particularly obedient horse, but he was exactly what I needed when I got him, and I don't for one second regret the decision to take on a broken down, failed racehorse with a bad attitude and ugly gaits. 

The adventures we had and the lessons he taught me could fill a book, and maybe they should...

"We were golden, we were fire, we were magic

Yeah, and they all knew our names all over town

We had it made in the middle of the madness

We were neon in a grey crowd

Yeah, we wrote our own story

Full of blood sweat and heartbeats

We didn’t do it for the fame or the glory

But we went down in history

Yeah, we were legends"