Base Pool

Shasta’s Story...another excerpt

About 7 or 8 years ago, we had a second emergency with Shasta. (He had previously, a few years prior to this, been diagnosed with liver failure after a blood work-up, which he miraculously recovered from.) This time he had quit eating and drinking and exhibited signs of a serious colic. Our vet came and examined him and subsequently ruled out colic. Instead he felt that there was an obstruction, most likely a tumor, blocking the opening to his stomach. He recommended a second opinion and a more detailed exam at a facility that could provide more technical diagnostics. He sent David to a very well-known equine hospital and treatment facility down by Oceanside. He felt that a more detailed exam was important because Shasta, being such an important member of our family, deserved every option be exercised before recommending the drastic measure of putting him down.

So David loads Shasta up in our stock trailer and follows the doc's directions to this fancy equine facility. He finds this beautiful place with a long tree-lined driveway and an impressive array of buildings and stables for horses. He then described to me the million dollar horse rigs and fancy racehorses that were all over the place. He told me when he pulled in with his old horse trailer and my "mutt horse"; they made him go around to the back door.   Then he said, when he unloaded Shasta, all those fancy blue blood horses were sneering at him as if he was trespassing. But Shasta perked up and held his head high and sneered right back at them. David said it was if Shasta knew he was special and was not intimidated by the haughty stares of those pampered steeds.

   Shasta had reason to know he was special. There was a time many years ago, when he had only been mine for a couple of years, that we were involved in helping put on a roping clinic for some movie folks and others, down in Malibu. It was an impressive array of folks who arrived, many of them, in expensive cars and brand new “cowboy” outfits. All were eager to “cowboy up” and chase steers. We had brought with us a few steers to train on, along with some of the more experienced rope horses, Shasta among them.

The owner of the ranch where we were to spend the weekend provided an arena for us to put both our horses and the steers. That first morning, as the participants arrived, Shasta was already entertaining many of them. He was continually charging down the arena and rounding up the small group of cattle to push them back into a corner, each time they would venture out toward the center of the arena to eat their hay. Eventually, we had to move the steers’ feed to the corner, since Shasta would not let them eat. Many of them were fascinated by this little white horse that seemed to like to round up cattle all by himself.

On the second day of the clinic, after what we call “ground work”, we prepared to mount up our cowboys and cowgirls. One fellow in particular, who himself had arrived in a Mercedes, requested that his mount be Shasta. I don’t remember his specific vocation, but it was something to do with the movie industry and judging by his ride and attire, he was very successful at whatever it was. He was enamored from the outset that this horse was a Mustang. Mustangs, for many, evoke all the romance of the West and our own Western heritage.

The middle of the afternoon, this fellow approached our friend, Dan, who was in charge of putting on this clinic, and asked him if he could buy Shasta. A second fellow, who had also had the opportunity to run some steers through on Shasta, also expressed his own interest.   I was some ways off when this initial exchange took place. But Dan, being the kind of fun loving character he is, proposed a mini horse auction. He started taking bids. The second guy bowed out when it reached $10,000. At that point, Dan hollered for me.

   When I came around the corner to see what all the commotion was about, there sits this fellow on my horse. Dan explains to him that I am the owner. He tells him the decision to sell him is really up to me. I was startled. Sell SHASTA? What nonsense was this??

When I realized that Dan was serious and even more disturbing, this gentleman was also quite serious; I simply looked at him and said, “My horse is not for sale.”

This declaration brought about quite a reaction on the part of this gentleman. At first, he was incredulous.

Then he said, “You won’t take $10,000 for this horse??”
I said, “No, I won’t.”
He said, “WHY NOT?”
I said, “Because I love him and he is not for sale.”
He said, “Fine. You won’t take $10,000 for him. What will you take?”
I replied, “There is no price. He’s not for sale.”

This evoked an angry look and the gentleman turned and rode my horse back to the roping arena. I am not, to this day, sure which of us was more amazed. For me, that anyone could not understand that you don’t sell your loved ones; or the gentleman, to find that everything does NOT have a price. But that day, Shasta witnessed me refuse to give him up and I like to think that in that moment, Shasta knew that of all the people he had been owned by before, he at last had a home and a love that had no price and no end. He would never again have to worry about being shipped to some new place with new people. He knew he was special beyond anything those blue blooded steeds would ever know.

Now back to the hospital where Shasta met the first vet, who gave him his initial exam. He called in a couple more vets and they ordered ultra-sound, x-rays and then set up to put a camera down Shasta's throat to see if they could identify the problem. Through all of this, David said they went on and on about how good he was and how easy to handle and in the end, they all fell in love with him because of his personality. The tech who performed the camera exam said they had never had a horse in there that was so cooperative with all these difficult procedures.   She told David it's as if he knows we are trying to help him. They said he was very intelligent. I imagined that all those other smart and fancy horses were probably spoiled rotten and threw lots of tantrums whenever they didn't like the procedures. Those who have to stay over in the facility for various treatments probably complain about the food quality and demand only Timothy hay and the very best quality grain.

In any case, the doctors sadly told David they concurred with our local vet. They believed he had some kind of blockage and though they couldn't see it well because of all the fluids, they also agreed it was most likely a tumor. Since he continued to refuse even water, they hooked him up in the horse trailer with an IV to hydrate him on the ride home and told David he probably only had a few days.   It is also significant to note that when it was time for Shasta to leave, they directed him to the FRONT door this time.

When they pulled in that night, I was waiting. I hadn't been able to go with them because we had a family emergency at the time and so I had to leave Shasta to David's care in the trip down south. So when they pulled in, I ran out and Shasta whinnied when he saw me. We unloaded him and he seemed so animated and kept rubbing his face on my shoulder and chest as if he wanted me to know all that had happened to him and how glad he was to be home. As David gave me the bad news, I looked at Shasta and knew there was no way this horse was going to die. I prayed for him, and Shasta and I made a pact to prove them all wrong.....again. With God’s help as always.

That is how we came to the routine that we have continued for the last 8 years or so. I got him drinking by making him sweet iced tea, which he was very fond of. He was also always partial to carrots, so I tried grating pounds of carrots so they were more palatable, later adding grated apples as well. When I presented him with the carrots and he began to devour them eagerly, I cried. I gradually came to believe that if he had an obstruction of some kind, he was probably having trouble with the hay. It's too coarse and difficult to swallow if you have some obstruction, so we changed his food to Equine Senior. Within a week, he was happy and normal, eating and drinking and bucking in his pen. He also began to put back some weight, which he had lost in those first few days. For the second time in almost as many years, my vet came out to find him well and recovered and was surprised, especially given the concurrence on his preliminary diagnosis.

In the end, it is my belief that this mass is what finally found its way to his airways. This is also the conclusion the doc came to the last time he saw Shasta on March 16. And on April 6, that final day, I knew we had used up all our miracles and it was up to me to come to that clarity about what Shasta needed from me.... one more time. I struggled so much with the decision because I have never given up on him no matter what before. But Shasta was tired and for the first time I saw that look in his eyes that said so.

I like to think he is tearing 'em up in heaven. And just like all those vets at the fancy equine hospital, Shasta is making a very positive impression where he is now as well. I also believe he came in the front door. I am sure he is entertaining the heavenly hosts with all his antics and watching for me to get there as well. Once again I will hear him whinny that happy greeting. He will have lots of wonderful places to show me in new mountains to climb and new pastures to run in. That is what I am picturing of him now. And trying to take comfort in that visual, much like I once did many years ago when looking out the classroom windows and dreaming of the white horse galloping onto the playground to carry me away from the dullness of class bells and schoolwork.

    Cathy Padgett Schmeer

Somewhere...Somewhere in time's Own Space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some Paradise where horses go,
For by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again.
                     ~Stanley Harrison