It’s never easy…Zips was a good guy, even if he was a bit
moody.
Zip had a reputation as a “hard to handle” horse, bordering
on being dangerous. Most everyone who handled him had a story of being bitten
or receiving his legendary cow kick. I remember bites, but my most vivid memory
is a cow kick he gave me a few years ago. I was in the stall with him and not
paying attention, and I walked behind him around to his side. His reaction was
a well-directed cow kick into my thigh that sent me tumbling out of the stall
and into the paddock. I think I did at least three somersaults before I came to
rest, lying on my back and looking up at a blurry blue sky. I laugh about it
now, but I could have been hurt had the door to the paddock not been open and I
had slammed into a wall.
We were told by vets who treated him and persons who owned and
rode him prior to him coming to us, that he had spent most of his time stalled
and blanketed as a show horse. I had always thought of this as being
imprisoned, and not being allowed to be a horse. Horses need to run and play
and be with other horses, not caged and alone. I have since believed that this
trauma was the root cause of his reactive nervousness. I am not a horse psychologist, but I think
that he mirrored his former treatment as a defense, and displayed symptoms of
equine ptsd.
His reactions complicated things. One always had to be aware
when handling him. Kath and I were good at gaining the limited amount of trust
he was able to give, and our farrier Gina never had too much trouble. Vets,
though, never caught a break, especially if they had a needle. He hated
needles, and would have to be restrained by more than one person when he needed
a shot, such as a vaccine. Even after being given sedatives that would put any horse
in la-la land, Zip would still have some awareness and try a defensive move. There
was a vet who refused to work on him unless it was an emergency because of his
temperament. Unfortunately, too, because of his defensiveness, we could never
give him treatments such as massage, chiro, or acupuncture, which we had always
thought would benefit him.
Although I mainly attributed his temperament to equine ptsd,
Zip also had physical problems that may have played a part. Like us when we
don’t feel well, have pain or discomfort, we can be moody and defensive too.
Zip had had digestive problems since he came here. We tried
supplement after supplement – probiotics, ulcer treatments, etc., and nothing
worked consistently. He was also more prone to colic than our other horses. Luckily,
none of these episodes got serious enough for surgery, but at times he needed
veterinary treatment. Usually though, we got him through by walking him. There
was a period when he coliced mildly almost monthly and I began to track these
episodes and associate them with full moons. Then as suddenly as they came on,
they stopped. We never fully understood
the reason.
A few years ago, he was diagnosed with EOTRH, a painful dental
disease, and had to have his front teeth surgically removed. We had noticed
that he was increasingly scraping his teeth along the stall bars, and that he shook
his head in discomfort when he bit into his food. Our veterinarian who
specializes in equine dentistry made the diagnosis and soon after, we took him
to the Garden State Equine Hospital which specializes in horse dentistry. The
surgery was successful, and after recovering, he never presented these symptoms
again. The only drawback was that without his front teeth, his tongue would
hang out the front of his mouth! The poor guy looked funny when he did this! A benefit
for us was that if Zip bit us, it was only gumming, and not very effective.
He also suffered from bouts of asthma, which we treated in
ways that we could preventively, such as washing all his hay to rid it of the
chaff and dust that triggered some of these episodes. When he did get an
attack, we put him on medications until the episode passed. As he got older, his
asthma worsened, and it became a contributing factor that led to his retirement.
Cushings disease was another malady that he suffered. We were able to treat and suppress it somewhat
with medication. And lastly, as with all older beings, he developed some
arthritis in his joints that slowed him down.
The poor guy had a lot going on inside his head and inside
his body for all his life. He couldn’t catch a break.
Yet, despite a few bites and well-coordinated cow kicks, Zippy
gave back more than he took.
In the ring, where he had been initially trained, he excelled.
Kath rode him for years taking lessons on him and never did he do anything but
try to please her, even when she made mistakes. He answered every cue and did
what she asked, and always took care of her. I rode him at the farm and never
had a problem. He did get antsy and nervous if he was ridden outside the ring,
but for us anyhow, he kept his head.
Zip
honored Kath as a rider and leader without exception throughout the years.
Under saddle, he was predictable and a trusted companion.
Despite his “flaws”, he could be very affectionate. He
called to me every time I came into the stable, and he would wait at the stall
door for me. When I would get ready to turn him out, he would affectionately lean
his head against my side and wait for me to slip on his halter. I always let
these moments last, feeling our bond, and they are some of my best memories. In
his later years he took on Lou’s old job – to come into the stable and
supervise me either cleaning the stalls, or to check on breakfast or dinner. I
would tell him that things were not ready yet and he would look at me with disappointed
eyes and wander back to the field, but before too long, would be back again to
re-check my progress.
The thing that always struck me most were his eyes. They had
an almost mystical depth, like an ocean. In his eyes, I could see his spirit
calm and free, floating in some dream. His eyes seemed to be in another place,
seeing and knowing things I could not know, and I always wished that I could be
a part of that other world.
In all, he had two sides – the unpredictable and the gentle.
He was both a challenge and a gift. To love him, one needed to just accept that
he could have a bad day just as well as a good day, he could be the light or he
could be the dark, he could be the storm or he could be the clear blue sky. I
think that was what Zippy was always meant to be. It’s how we accepted and
loved him.
No, it’s never easy…Zips will always be with us and in our
hearts. He touched us in so many ways and made our lives that much fuller. If I
could change anything, it would be that he was still here. It’s not easy
looking into his empty stall. I do think though, that he is in a place now
where he is free from all his pain, and maybe chasing Lou around again and
giving out cow kicks to any unknowing soul who tries to catch him. That would be so
Zippy, and thinking about this makes me smile.
(Zips June 12, 1993 – September 28, 2020)