When I first laid eyes on Harriette I thought: you sad lady what have we as humans done to you and how can we help you.
She was crusty eyed, had hot spots and sores on her body, was 32 plus pounds and barely waddled. Her ears were infected, red and full of black tar. She was on predisone to control allergies – these horrible reactions to either bad food or bad care. Continue reading →
Likely one of the strangest relationship we’ve had the pleasure of watching develop is the love affair between an elderly farm protector canine Gus and our little blind middle aged pony splash.
Its not that we haven’t seen dogs and horses form a bond, its just that their personalities are so different that we found their touching attraction amazing.
We put Gus back in with the livestock at the beginning of February when we spotted coyotes in the back field. We weren’t worried about the horses, we were concerned about our slow moving elderly goat Nelly.
From a distance Gus and Nelly the goat look very similar – and such is the disguise of the Kuvasz, so he blends in with the herd using trickery to convince the coyote that the livestock are unprotected and easy prey.
Like a land-shark Gus the Kuvasz moves through the herd to intercept the interloper before the coyote has a chance to get a meal.
Gus is a natural born killer – its not only his calling its been his career for thirteen years running. He’s vicious with strangers that aren’t counted as members of his flock and goes for the kill rather than the maim. That’s just what he’s been born to do. Profiling? Sure, but its deep in his DNA.
Splash is the kindest soul that lives on the farm. She’s soft and gentle and full of grateful love. She adores strangers and seeks out sweet affection. She’s fearful of the unfamiliar and turns to flight rather than fight, often to her detriment.
Splash is the earth and sunshine. Gus is the dark fire.
So, what did my eyes did see one bright morning as I surveyed my backyard? Fire and earth had come together and not scorched the ground.
The moment I did not capture was when they were sound asleep only feet from each other – both laying down in comfort. Happy in dreamland with the warmth of a body close by.
Even with death on our doorstep I could not stop my smile, my thrill or my delight. The murder and angel lay together in peace.
A knight has found his princess, a bodyguard found his charge and a protector had found his keep.
There are daily lessons that happen at the farm. Life lessons that would improve our quality of life, if we listened. From basic communications to extensively complex survival.
We don’t really know Gus’s exact age, but we do know he’s old. We don’t really know when he came up from Tennessee to Ontario, but we know he lived years in the elements – surviving and thriving to care for his sheep.
Gus has been with us nearly twice as long as we’ve had Splash and they both continue to amaze and surprise us with their love and devotion to each other and life.
Humans so quick to pass judgement, deem punishment and judge by appearances. We have so much to learn from the “lower species”.
Gus is the resident greeter dog at Beaver Creek Farm Sanctuary. Any visitor who arrives at the Farm is first announced by Gus, whose deep bark sounds the call that someone has arrived. Gus is no ordinary dog, he is a survivor and has lived and thrived, against all odds.
Vice Admiral Poco Bear Bremner Lindhurst, USN (Ret.); 11; died on Sunday, February 15, 2015. A true patriot and admired leader, he embodied the best of his generation. He will be deeply missed as a loving, devoted companion, and remembered fondly as a respected naval officer and friend.
It was February 2012 when we gave him a name, a home, a full tummy, veterinary care and all our love.
He’d lived ten years on this earth without a name, a kind hand, a brush to untangle painful mats or to have medical needs met.
He arrived in the back of a truck with a heavy tow chain used as a collar and twelve foot lead. His owners said he kept wandering after the sheep went to slaughter, so they chained him to a wagon and left him.
“What does he eat?” I asked as the big dog wandered to my side.
“Eat? I guess whatever we have around.” said the man.
The dog smelled of infection and rot. The collar was imbedded into his fur and we needed scissor and heavy duty bolt cutters to remove the chain.
He came to us broken and ready to die. He lay still as we palpated his infected face, the solid mats along his back and the ears full of black poision.
We fed him and watched while he ate to put some flesh on his emaciated body. We fed him twice a day and everyday we came with a bowl full of food he seemed surprise.
We watched hope flicker back into his beautiful soft tawny eyes. It was a week before he wagged his tail and a month before he licked our hands.
We cut out the mats, treated his infected face and gunky ears. We gave him a bath and judging by the way he stood stock still, it was his first ever.
Our first vet trip revealed testicular cancer and a positive heartworm test. They are both death sentances and both are preventable. With a heavy heart we went home to consider our options.
Our vet at the time said surgery to remove the testicular cancer would likely lead to death because of the heatworm. He suggested we make Gus comfortable and watch for the tell tale signs of laboured breathing that would indicate the heartworm would take his life. A few months… maybe.
Everyday we watched and every day he flourished. As summer turned to fall and fall into winter Gus put on weight and turned a beautiful white to match the snow.
As we came to the one year anniversary of naming Gus we saw no quick end in sight. Another vet visit and the same prognosis. He probably won’t make the year.
We took Gus to see three different vets and all said the same thing: surgery would most likely be fatal. Keep him comfortable. He only has a few months left.
Gus loved his job as protector of the farm. It didn’t matter if you had two legs, four legs, hooves or paws, you belonged to Gus. Since he is a sheepdog, we wondered if he thought of us as sheep.
We had an intruder of the human variety one night who thought it would be fun to open up all the gates on the farm. When he came to the horse paddock and began to push the gate open, we can only imagine his surprise when he encounter our night security. The horse paddock was locked tightly when we checked in the morning and Gus seemed quite proud.
Year one turned into year two and it didn’t look like heartworm was going to be the demise of our giant, but his testicle was growing.
We had switched vets the beginning of January 2014 and we took Gus to Dr. Racheal. The testicle was so big that it was going to rupture and that would lead to a horrible and painful death, so it was time to risk the odds and try and remove the testicle. If it was impossible to remove or if the surgery was taking a fatal turn Dr. Racheal agreed she would euthanize Gus and give him a good end of days.
The night before the surgery I brought Gus into the house and gave him a bath. I brushed and cuddled and kisses his furry head. As I tucked him into bed that night I watched him with hope.
I thought of the community that had watched Gus transform into a beautiful happy dog. I thought of the donations given for his food and his comfortable bed. I gave thanks for the love and support that would carry us through to whatever end may be.
My anger at his neglectful owners had ebbed years ago. It was time to educate. It was time to turn pets into companions. It was time to honour Gus.
The morning of the surgery felt like any other morning. We fed animals and took dogs out. When it came time to load Gus into the truck we felt the tears burning.
It was a long drive to the veterinary hospital and I kept watching Gus who was laying comfortalby watching the world through the window. He had light in his eyes and he had hope. He knew love.
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived – that is to have succeeded ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson.
After spending the last ten days going back and forth between vets trying to find the best solution to Splash’s eye problem our decision was made for us when we were unable to find a vet willing to come to the farm and do the surgery.
We called Milton Equine Hospital and booked a surgery date for August 6, 2013. The Hospital is about an hour and a half drive from the farm and she needs to be there August 5, 2013 for pre-op blood work and a physical exam.
0500 August 5th, 2013:
We got up early on Monday, Aug 5, 2013 to make the trip. Horses, puppies, pigs, goats, cats, ducks and dogs were fed very early as we rushed around trying to find our mugs of coffee that kept disappearing as we wandered back and forth between the barn and house.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put on the shipping leg wraps as Splash has a fear of having her legs touched, but after two attempts she stood still and let me wrap her legs to prevent damage during the ride. It was a little chilly before the sun had risen, so I put a purple blanket on my pony that had little images of ponies all over it. I call it her purple pajamas. With a last picture of those painful eyes we headed for help.
All fed and wrapped up Splash walked onto the trailer without a backward glance (no pun intended) while Turtle and Autumn stood at the gate watching the show. When I returned four hours later they were still standing at the gate waiting for their sibling to return.
I pack up my three little dogs for moral support and started on my trek to Milton. I had so many questions and worries floating through my head that I didn’t register the time. I drove straight through some pretty countryside, but all I could think of was: Is this the right thing?
It’s seems so barbaric and horrific to remove eyes. Like something out of a torture movie: Saw 12.
0730 August 5th, 2013: Arrive at Milton Equine Hospital
I’m a shift worker and most of the time holiday weekends mean nothing to me, so I was surprised to find the doors to the old farm house they call “Main Office” at the Milton Equine Hospital locked. I glanced around and saw a woman on a cell phone walking towards me. Casually, without taking the phone away from her face, she pointed to the back of a building and said “you dropping off for surgery? Go around back and find someone”. I nodded filled with nerves.
I drove the truck and trailer around the back and found a few folks working on horses in the very clean surgery barn. The young girls were friendly and helpful as I unloaded Splash. The pony was nervous, but interested in her surroundings. She moved with choppy motions as her ears spun back and forth with curiosity.
I brought her into stall # 1 and watched while they did a physical exam. Splash was a sweetheart and only flinched when they took her rectal temperature. The deemed her chubby. They gave Splash a flake of hay and continued to reassure me that she would be in good hands. Today they would do blood work, an assessment and start an IV to give fluids. I should get a phone call in the morning from the vet to touch base before the surgery.
I nodded. Gave Splash a few cuddles and as I walked towards the truck I could hear her whinnying for someone familiar. I started to cry as I climbed into the truck and drove away leaving my little girl at the hospital.
1000 Aug 5th, 2013
I’m back home and rushing to get everything done before I go to work, but my brain is still on Splash and it seems to take too long to do things. I’ve got a day and night of waiting or so I think.
0800 August 6th, 2013
The vet called my cell phone and left me a message that the surgery would be postponed until this afternoon. Why?
0800-1030 August 6th, 2013
I called Milton Equine Hospital about ten times until they finally answered the phone and promised to pass the message onto Dr. Cote. She was in surgery and would call me when she was done. Apparently my phone calls really annoyed the staff, because Dr. Cote asked if I was all right, I admitted I was little anxious. Understatement.
1030 August 6th, 2013
I finally got to talk to Dr. Cote who asked how she came to have the signs of deep trauma to her head and eyes? It initially sounded like she was suggesting we hurt Splash, so I calmly explained that we are involved in animal rescue and Splash had come to us with this trauma. We had no information on how she became so damaged. We could only speculate from her injuries that she came from a bad place of abuse and neglect.
Dr. Cote explained that Splash’s aggressively turned down right eye is indicative of deep head trauma. Generally the kind of head injury that is difficult to survive. My heart pounded harshly in my chest as I realized the full extent of Splash’s past. The horrific abuse and neglect that this pony survived had left its mark.
The vet went on to explain that Splash has spacial relation problems from the head trauma which makes it very difficult for the pony to understand where her head is most of the time. Dr. Cote is concerned that Splash will not recover well from the surgery due to the history of massive trauma, her inability to be aware of herself combined with being blind.
I sigh. I try to breathe. I listen.
She continues to tell me that both of the eyes are in horrible shape and are very painful. She believes its best to take both the eyes out in one surgery to reduce the risk of a second ansethetic. Dr. Cote is very concerned about the recovery, but believes the risks of surgery are worth allowing Splash to have a life without constant pain.
I’m told the surgery will begin at three p.m. and will take three hours. I should not expect a call before six p.m. and she will not call me until Splash is awake and standing. The recovery is expected to take about two weeks.
Dr. Cote and I dance around her concerns and she never comes right out and says the worst, but she hints at the sad possibilities. Splash is a fighter. To have survived her past is remarkable and I hope she has the courage to survive this surgery.
1318 August 6th, 2013
Waiting. Wish I could go and see Splash so she can hear the sound of my voice and know that she has not been abandoned. I wish I could tell her about all the people pulling for her at home. I wish I could make it tomorrow. Wish I could make two weeks fly by.
1500 August 6th, 2013 (3 p.m.) Surgery Time
She’s going under and I can almost smell the gas mixed with plastic as her already dark world fades away. That funny feeling of floating before everything becomes meaningless and you wake up confused. My girl.
I was watching parts of the movie “Signs” with Mel Gibson where Mel’s character defines life as a series of events suggesting all things happen for a reason. There is a particular good part where Mel describes the two groups of the people in the world: those that believe in miracles and those that belive in luck.
Under stress we look for something to make us feel better. A belief that will bring comfort.
1850 August 6th, 2013
The vet called! Update!
Dr. Cote sounded tired, but said that Splash was doing well. The surgery was successful and both eyes were removed without any difficulty. The left eye was very large and must have been horribly painful, so she thinks we should see relief in a few short days.
Splash was spending some time in the padded stall to recover, but she was already standing and holding her own. I can finally let out that breath I’ve been holding. I will feel much better when I can talk to her and let her know she hasn’t been abandoned. Its been a stressful day for everyone and I am grateful to feel relief. She made it. What a fighter!
In retrospect, given Splash’s history of trauma the best place for her to have this surgery was in a hospital and I’m glad that she was in the capable hands of Dr. Cote.
This has been an interesting educational experience. Splash is my first horse to have undergone surgery and stayed in an equine hospital. If everything goes well tonight she could come home tomorrow. Cross your hooves!
Thank you so much for all the support and donations towards her surgery. Thank you for all the thoughts and prayers. Thank you for sharing my worry.
0800 August 7, 2013
The vet called and said Splash had a good night. No distress and she seemed quite comfortable. Their only concern was that Splash hasn’t passed much manure. She needs to poop. Dr. Cote said as long as Splashes passes more manure she could go home this afternoon. I celebrated too soon.
1345 August 7, 2013
I called Milton Equine Hospital and spoke with the front desk lady Lisa who said Dr. Cote was on another phone call, but would call me back as soon as possible. I’m waiting.
1500 August 7, 2013
Lisa called to tell me Dr. Cote would like to keep Splash for another night. She’s not producing as much manure as they’d like to see post surgery. I should explain that horses have very sensitive digestive systems that need fairly constant stimulation. Horses are grazers due to their anatomy. Horses can’t vomit and get stomach upset very easily much like bloat in a big dog like a great dane.
Post anesthetic colic (PAC) is a well-recognized complication of surgery in horses (Blikslager et al. 1994,. Proudman et al. 2002). Anything that upsets a horse will upset their guts which is often an dangerous situation for a horse.
I don’t want to jump to conclusions and worry because they didn’t says Splash was colicking, they said she wasn’t producing as much manure as they liked to see, so her system is still running, its just running a little slow from all the medication. The best place for her is at the hospital so they can treat her with IV fluids and medications.
2100 August 7,2013
Dr. Cote called tonight and said Splash is doing great. She passed lots of manure and is ready to go home in the morning. We were told to pick up a racing mask with plastic eye blinkers to help protect the incision. I went online and found an even better solution with a Guardian Mask http://www.guardianmask.com/ I called the company based in Texas and left a message asking if the mask would be suitable for a horse who had undergone a bilateral enucleation. An hour later the owner from the company called and we talked about rescuing animals and she offered to donate a mask for Splash. I was so moved I shed a few tears as the owner told me about their blind dog and how they also do rescue work. I feel so much support toward rescue. It’s heartwarming.
1100 August 8, 20
Brent and I got ready to go to Milton to pick up Splash. We loaded the puppies into the big truck and headed for the highway. It was an uneventful trip with one stop to pick up a racing mask with plastic eye protectors for Splash since we wouldn’t have our guardian mask until the weekend. We stopped in the small town of Campbellville, Ontario and bought a temporary plastic eye protector.
We arrived at the Hospital and went into the office to pay the bill. We were surprised to learn that the surgeon had donated two hundred dollars towards the surgery. Dr. Cote was incredibly moved by Splash and her courage. She told me that Splash was the perfect patient and unbelieveably trusting in people, which came as a shock given her traumatic history as told by her injuries.
Dr. Cote said she was grateful Splash had found a family that loved her enough to provide this surgery, so she can live a painfree life. She was happy to have had the opportunity to meet a wonderful little pony and to be able to help. Most of the staff at the hospital were happy that Splash had finally received the help that she needed.
Brent and I were anxious to see Splash without eyes. What would she look like? Would she still be the same? Would we notice the difference? We turned a corner and saw our pony standing quietly in her stall. She nickered softly at the sound of my voice and took a step in my direction. The tears burned the back of my eyes as I examined the neat stitches in place of the large blue eye. It looked good. Tidy and clean. There was some swelling on the right side which Dr. Cote said was probably because she tilts her head to the right, so the fluid had drained to that side.
Brent and I listened carefully to the post-surgery instructions. Splash was neither sedated nor on painkillers and seemed quite comfortable. She was going home with a king sized bottle of antibiotics and a eye protectors.
We were both relieved to see our pony again and curious to see her progression.
One of the vets helped us fit the new mask and even sewed in gauze pads to protect her eyes from all sides. You can see a little bit of the barn where the surgical cases live at the hospital. They were shop vaccuuming a stall!
Once Splash was fitted with a mask I put on her shipping boots and we made our way to the trailer for our drive home. She was a little anxious about the sound of the vacuum, but managed to walk down the aisle and right into the horse trailer.
We took it easy through the windy roads of Guelph Line Road to the highway. We had to stop and take away Splash’s hay because her diet is limited post-surgery. We’re trying to get her system back to normal and that means re-introducing food slowly.
Brent and the puppies were my co-pilots on this journey and were so relaxed they fell asleep mid-discussion.
Once home we walked Splash around a little bit and then put her in her stall for a rest. She spent the first hour picking every last piece of hay out of the shavings. I wanted to feed her, but I have to stick to her restrictive diet for a few days. She’s lost a bit of weight and she looks goods (remember they said she was too chubby).
In retrospect I am incredibly grateful we took Splash to Milton for the surgery. I learned that her head trauma is far more severe than I believed. She received care in Milton that I would not have been able to provide at home. A special thanks to all the folks from Milton Equine Hospital.
I’m happy to have my girl home. Thank you again to all the people who made this possible by recognizing a lost pony who needed help.
We’re very tired, but so happy to be home. I don’t think she realized she was home right away. It wasn’t until Turtle was brought in did she get excited. They greeted each other with lots of nickering and horse talk. He nuzzled her neck and she snorted happily.
Brent got used to walking Splash around on a lead for half an hour four times a day. Stall rest isn’t for everyone!
I sit here on Aug 2, 2013 thinking back two year to the night I lost my Gizmo. He did something he never does. He ran and took with him a piece of my heart leaving my soul wanting.
Not since I lost my horse Sam to the same road in nearly the same spot in 1997 have I felt such grief rip me apart. Two years later I watch the video and the grief rips through me anew. There is no comfort. There is no time that will fill this emptiness. I work hard and try and save as many souls as I can, but it will never correct my mistake and it will never bring my Gizmo back.
I sit here at 2 am and the same song played on the radio as it did the night Gizmo died. I cry. I weep. There is no anger behind these tears nearly two years later. There is only sadness and missing. I miss him. I miss his caring nature and his kindness. I miss his love in work boots.
Gimzo opened my eyes to the plight of puppy mill dogs and rescue dogs which in turn opened the door to animal rescue. Poco, Jackson and Gus can all thank Gizmo for their lives here on the farm, and so can the twenty something other dogs that we’ve foster over the past six years.
Which brings us to Splash. Another lost, abused, neglected and abandoned animal that needed our help. This was one case we couldn’t afford to do alone, so we reached out into the community and asked for support. We asked for donations and kindness. We asked that people show they cared for animals and we made them think about those neglected through this one horse. Our community rose to the challenge and gave not only donations, but support to our family. Acceptance that its okay to love animals.
Thank you community and thank you Gizmo for being the inspiration behind Beaver Creek Farm Sanctuary.
This has been an anxious week at Beaver Creek Farm Sanctuary as we fundraise for our little blind pony Splash. This mare came to us already blind and we’ve done our best to make her life as happy as possible. She has a safe pasture in which to graze, kind equine friends that help guide her around the field and a big strong man to keep her safe. She’s well fed, well watered and incredibly well loved.
This was not enough to heal the damage and trauma that has happened in the past twelve years to this sweet pony who continues to love and trust people. She is a lesson in forgiveness and an open book about how to love with all your heart. Her eyes serve no purpose and only fill her with pain. It would be similar to having a constant migraine, so our trusted vet Matt has strongly recommended having her eyes removed.
Splash, our blind pony is having trouble with inflammation, glaucoma and infection in both of her eyes and our vet Matt has strongly suggested we have surgery to remove both of Splash’s eyes. Since she is completely blind her eye orbs serve no positive purpose and only cause her pain. Our hearts are heavy to think she has suffered with this problem for years without treatment. Neglect and abuse leads to so many physical problems in animals. We are doing our best, with assistance from friends of the farm, to help animals who have been neglected or abused.
We are currently trying to find a local vet who is willing and able to do the bilateral enucleation at the farm using sedation and nerve block standing method, however we have been unsuccessful at locating an appropriate vet for the job. We will call the specialty veterinary hospital in Milton on Monday, Aug 1, 2013 to find out an appointment time and date. We will most likely book the surgery tomorrow.