Vinnie

A memorial for Vinnie by Nina Arbella

December 6, 2002 I had the privilege of being with Vinnie as he received the last gift that we humans can give. He died in my arms. Lindsay Robbins, our wonderful and compassionate vet, sent him on his way.

Sally, who fed that morning, said he was okay at 7:30 AM and was standing with his head over the door, nickering for his breakfast. Sometime between 7:30 AM and 10:30, when I arrived, something went terribly wrong. I found him covered with sweat and soaked with urine and water that was kicked out of his bucket and onto him. He had obviously been cast in his stall and was showing subtle signs of colic. He nickered to me and appeared to be a bit shaken and cold, but otherwise not so bad. I piled blankets on him and put him out with the four horses he usually goes out with as I thought they might offer him comfort and normalcy. He went out and lay right down flat on the ground. Nessa was terribly concerned and came to the gate to tell me all was not right. It had just begun to snow.

With a little bit of trouble, I rolled Vinnie up onto his chest and forced him to his feet. Solomon came over to "groom" him, but could not do it through the blankets. Vinnie never tried to lie down again, but had a vacant, resigned look in his eyes.

I called Lindsay and she said to give him a shot of bonamine and take his temperature. She would call in an hour. His temperature was 95 degrees; he was freezing. I piled all the blankets and wrapped his legs to cover all exposed areas. Christina, one of our volunteers who happens to be an EMT, advised me as the day went on. She also cleaned all the stalls (14 of them, anyway). I am so grateful for her help that day. Thank you, Christina. Though Vinnie wasn't in apparent discomfort, I could not bring his temperature up any higher than 95.5. It was obvious that all systems were shutting down. When Lindsay called at 2:30 I felt that she needed to see him. I have never had anything happen like this before. I didn't know what to do anymore.

At that point I called Vinnie's owner and rescuer, Christa, as I felt there was no hope at this point and needed her authorization to put him down, if it came to that. Christa lives on Martha's Vineyard and could not just "get here." I wanted to not call her until I was sure. Christa rescued him in Maine and entrusted him into the care and keeping of Eye of the Storm. He has been with us for three years.

I have tried very hard to keep him safe. I have been extra careful of him because his life had been very bad before he came here. We don't know his history, but he bore hideous scars from his past life. He was retired with us for the rest of his life.

When Lindsay arrived she found: no gut sounds, temperature 95.1, blue gums, no capillary refill, heart rate between 72 and 80 beats per minute, plus several other very bad signs. She felt that he was dying and there was no hope for recovery. At this point he was just fading away.

In the meantime, Christa was trying to get here. The roads were beginning to be treacherous from the snow and she was still on the ferry. Lindsay spoke with her about Vinnie's prognosis. Christa decided he was not to suffer any longer, even though she could not get there in time to say "Good-bye." She unselfishly let him go. I held the phone up to his ear so she could talk to him. She told him how much she loved him, how sorry she was for what the human race did to him, and it was okay for him to go now. The bad things were over. It's funny - a little gleam came into his eyes and he lifted his head as he recognized and responded to that beloved voice.

It was as if that was what he needed to hear as he appeared to give up after hearing his "mom's" voice, and started to weave on his feet. Lindsay gave him a dose of powerful pain killer, which gave him the ability to walk down to his grave site. I had been praying all day as I held his head and told him so many times how much Jehovah loved him. Before taking his last walk I asked God if there were an angel in the vicinity, if he would please let him help us make this ending easy. As usual, we were not alone. There were no dramatics. Lindsay gave him the drugs. He lifted his head for a second as if to say "thank you" and then went to sleep. He just lay down and was at peace.

Mission accomplished. Vinnie's life was fulfilled. Though we won't really know what happened, I have seen many old horses die. They aren't upset, they don't panic, they just stop running. It usually takes 24 hours or less. Their systems shut down one by one and they just go. It seems not a terrible way to die. It's sad for us because it's so sudden, but I find that in the end it is also very satisfying. Twenty-eight years is the perfect age to die, if you happen to be a horse. I am honored to have known our brave, stoic, and wonderful Vinnie. He could be very fresh sometimes and when it was his day to "be in charge" he could be very mean to the mares. But sometimes one of the mares was "the boss" and he would submit to her. We never could figure out that little herd of five. Leadership changed daily!

And so our beloved Vinnie has passed from life to death in the twinkling of an eye. I believe horses will be resurrected. I believe Vinnie already has been and is alive in the future. Where are any of us in the stream of time? The future is happening now, we just haven't gotten there yet! But Vinnie has. Maybe some of us will get there to see him again. I'm sure he'll be waiting for us!

I pretty much spent the entire day draped on him, hugging, petting, and reassuring him how much we loved him. He would lean his head against me in gratitude. Thank you, Lindsay, Christina, Steve, and most of all Christa for sharing your beloved Vinnie with us. I am honored that you entrusted him to me. We are all so glad to have shared the last years of his life.

Below is the original page we created while Vinnie was alive:

Vinnie showing off his beautiful, classic head (and chopped ear)

Vinnie, once a highly successful show horse, was rescued several years ago after his former owner purchased a new horse to show. We were told that the man hadn't wanted to risk competing (and possibly losing) with his new horse against his old one, so Vinnie was purposely disfigured: part of his left ear was cut off. (Certain show circuits will not allow a horse with an "imperfection" to compete.) Whether or not this is true, we will never know for sure.   Vinnie worked for some time at a trail riding barn, and at the end of the season he was returned to the dealer who had purchased him. He was turned into a field with nearly 50 other horses, where the only food for the winter was a mountain of hay left in the middle of the field. Vinnie as he appeared when first rescued.

An extremely passive horse, Vinnie would not fight for his food. Instead of claiming his share of the hay, he spent his time standing near the gate, wanting instead to be near people. If we had not rescued him, he would have starved to death or been shipped to the slaughterhouse for meat. Vinnie has a wealth of training in dressage and show jumping. Due to an advanced case of sidebone and an untended fracture, he will never be ridden again. The lack of love and care he endured while he was a working horse are still evident. We have brought his weight back and greatly lessened his pain, and we nourish his spirit with care and companionship. Still, the scars -- physical and otherwise -- remain. Even after years of neglect and extreme overuse, this 20-year-old Arabian gentleman remains kind and trusting. He's one of our finest ambassadors.     Vinnie welcomes 88-year old Lucy Farber, a visitor to Eye of the Storm

A wooly Vinnie in the snow

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