Jazz.
I called him Jazzbo. If I could be Jimbo, he could be Jazzbo.
Paint horse. A beautiful paint horse with one of the most striking tails I’ve ever seen – several colors all melded together & flowing nearly to the ground.
He came to us a whole bunch of years ago – maybe 14 or 15? He had a navicular problem in one of his front hooves & couldn’t be ridden anymore. Around the same time, another horse – Wild Bill – came to live with us & the two boys were paired in our round pen. Wild Bill was older & somewhat more mature of spirit & he acted as a mentor to Jazz. They became inseparable.
Sadly, Bill passed away a year or two later & Jazzbo was left pretty forlorn. And we didn’t want him living by himself in the round pen, separated from all the other horses so we gave him a new home in what was then called ‘John’s Corner Office’, the pen that had been built inside our large ‘field’. Because several horses were living in the field, we thought that Jazzbo would make friends with at least a few or a couple of them.
That didn’t work – it didn’t work at all.
Oddly, there was absolutely no connection between Jazzbo & any of his new neighbors. As a matter of fact, Jazz hated it. He became angry, with a sadness & anger in him that soon translated to his interactions with us humans. He began nipping – & not necessarily playful nipping. He even gave somewhat meaningful kicks in our directions. I put it down to two things: losing his very close friend & being put into a situation that he didn’t like.
One day soon, we lost somebody else. Forgive me, but I can’t remember who it was (maybe Jack?), but that left an opening in the barn. Maybe Jazzbo would like to live there? So we moved his base of operations.
Best thing we ever did for him.
Within days, his attitude changed, his nastiness left him & he made friends on both sides of him – Birdie & Journey. He was like the Jazzbo we’d known when he & Bill were living together. And he’d been in that house for nearly a decade, now.
Jazzbo had this unfortunate habit of semi-colicing every once in a while. I’d see him exhibiting Flehmen – where a horse raises its head & curls the upper lip &, in his case, it was always “Uh-oh”. I’d give him some banamine & walk him in the arena for nearly an hour. After a time, the banamine would kick in or the problem would subside on its own & he’d be good to go again. A couple times, though, Dr. K would be asked to come out & she’d check him out & tube him & give him a rectal examination & we’d just watch him for several hours or overnight.
One time, though, the problem didn’t resolve. And, when Doc examined him, she found evidence of an impaction in his colon. That was a real “Uh-oh” – a life-threatening “Uh-oh”. We hung bags of fluids from the rafters in his house & ran the fluids into him intravenously. I remember having to go out in the middle of the night – in a horrible cold rainstorm – & change out the empty bags for full ones. That episode lasted nearly three days before he got over it. But, thank God, he did get over it. Whew.
Jazzbo went out into the arena every morning with Journey & she would chase him – not a guy particularly drawn to the act of running – around & he’d reluctantly play her game for a few minutes. Our folks could walk him to & from his house to the arena without ever putting a halter on him – he was that smart & that well-mannered.
Three or four months ago, I noticed that he was sore in his front hooves. And, by the way he was acting, I suspected laminitis, especially owing to the fact that he had PPID/Cushings, which can all-too-often lead to that disease. Doc came out, ran radiographs on his hooves & verified my suspicions. We swung into action.
We put him on several new medications that had to be administered several times a day. We changed his feed, eliminating sugars & starches. We moved a fence panel in an effort to keep him from walking so much. Ultimately, we had our therapeutic farrier put ‘clogs’ on his hooves.
Even with all of that, he wasn’t responding the way he should have been. The radiographs that Doc ran a couple of weeks ago were not good. It was suspected that he was ‘sinking’.
Often, with laminitis, when the laminae that hold the coffin bone to the inside of the hoof wall become weakened, the front of the coffin bone will ‘rotate’ downward. We’ve dealt with that often. And, through all of the things we do, we can usually arrest the rotation.
Sometimes, though, the laminae weaken so much that the entire coffin bone begins to drop. Gravity, combined with the horse’s weight, just forces the whole leg/pastern/fetlock bone combination toward the ground. And there’s no stopping it. You can imagine what would happen in the very worst-case scenario.
This past weekend, we noticed that Jazzbo had a ‘wound’ right at the coronary band (where the hoof capsule meets the leg) on his right front. I knew what that meant & it meant that he was really sinking. I texted photos to Doc. She & I both knew.
Yesterday afternoon, Doc came out again &, though we knew what they would show, we radiographed his hooves again. Confirmed.
So, instead of waiting any longer for the inevitable & a guarantee of increased pain for him, we did what we had to do. As the saying goes, “Better a week too soon than a day too late”.
I must add that our great friend, Amy, was Jazz’ best friend & greatest champion. They’d been in love with each other since the days of Wild Bill. Even though Amy moved to the Pacific northwest a couple of years ago, she’d come down every three months or so & spend a couple of days with him. God love her, she flew down yesterday to be with her boy for the entire afternoon. Poor Amy……
After a decade & a half, Jazz – Jazzbo – was a stalwart of Tierra Madre. And of my life, too. He was there every morning, every afternoon, every night. He was like the sun coming up & the sun going down.
I will miss him terribly.
Jazzbo.
Dear, dear Jazzbo……..
