October 10, 2020

 

 

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)