My beloved horse Alibar was diagnosed with lymphosarcoma on September 8, 2008. He was not eating for a few days and his breathing sounded labored. After two visits and some bloodwork, my local veterinarians recommended sending him to our equine clinic for further diagnostics.
We shipped Alibar to Mid Atlantic Equine. They did an ultrasound on his chest cavity. There was a lot of fluid. The vet recommended draining the chest cavity. They pulled about 15 gallons of fluid out of his chest. They also sampled blood and checked the cells in the fluid in his chest and abdomen. Cells counts did not indicate infection like pneumonia, but they did indicate something cancerous. They also x-rayed his chest and could see little spider-webby things, but no large masses. Putting everything together, the vet concluded that it is most likely lymphosarcoma.
We kept the drain on his side to keep the fluid from coming back. If we took the drain out, the fluid would have filled back up in about 24-48 hours.
Alibar was his usual charming self at the clinic and the vet staff was marvelling at his shiny coat, condition, and bright expression. When he stepped off the trailer at the clinic, his head was raised, ears pricked, and there was a little arch in his neck as if he was looking for the jumper show. He is still his normal self, which was sad to see but comforting in some strange way.
Part of me was totally prepared for this and part of me was totally blindsided.
Alibar’s last days were filled with peace and he was surrounded by an extended family of people who dearly loved him.
Tuesday morning, we shipped him back home from the equine clinic. When we unloaded him from the trailer, the rear bar was accidentally unfastened before he was untied. He quietly and professionally snapped the throat strap on his halter and unloaded himself from the trailer. He stood there for a moment with no halter on his head, a clever but gentle troublemaker to the very end- I can tell many tales of all of the pieces of tack that he’s broken. He stood quietly while I looped the leadrope around his neck and led him to the barn- he pranced for just a few steps before settling back down to a more sensible walk.
We stayed with Alibar all day on Tuesday, and let him do everything he wished. When he wanted to come out, he’d walk to his stall door and we’d halter him and take him out. I wanted to get a few final photos of Alibar- they were all taken on his terms. I stood back from Alibar and let him graze. When something caught his attention, I snapped a few frames. In this photo, he’s watching some of my barn friends play with their dog. I love the bit of grass in his mouth, his beard of whiskers, his curly and tiny ears, and the soft expression on his face.
He led us around the farm, quietly grazing- we swatted any fly that dared to come near him. When he wanted to nap, he would lead us to his stall and we’d put a fan on him to keep him cool. He did not have an appetite for grain, but he grazed for many hours and would only eat treats if they were presented to him by hand- an apple in his bucket was not acceptable.
We conjured up every horse treat imaginable for Alibar to enjoy. My best friend Melissa visited with a bag of goodies from the store, including granola bars and a jar of molasses. We dipped the granola bar in molasses and Alibar ate it like it was the most savory treat he’s ever had.
All day long, friends stopped by the barn to give him a hug and say their final goodbyes. Some had known him for years and some only met him a few months ago. The boarders at the new barn have grown to love him in the short time that he’s lived here. Friends from my old barn who were little girls when they met him are now in their early 20s; they told stories of him chasing them on their first days of working at the farm. Alibar’s first owner visited him; she got him as a weanling and she told stories of his trainer calling him a cannibal because of the many people he bit.
My grandma visited- she’s 88 years old and she has known Alibar as long as I have. She has ridden him many times over the years.
On Tuesday night, there was a small but lively celebration in our barn. Some of my most fun friends gathered by Alibar’s stall. We set up chairs and shared memories and jokes. He stood in his stall and snoozed on his deep and comfy bedding, head low and one hind leg tilted.
At first, I wanted to let Alibar have total peace and quiet for the whole evening, but I was reminded that his normal evenings involved a barn full of giggling girls sitting on hay bales outside his stall. He’s not the most affectionate horse in the world, but he’s always been very social. Whenever he saw a group of people he’d walk over to us and stand, usually not to be pet but to just be with us- he seemed to enjoy hanging around all of the barn jokes and gossip.
The Alibar party slowly dwindled. I was left with Alibar and Melissa. He walked over to the door of his stall, ears forward. I stood by his side and pet him as long as he wanted. We then took him out to graze under the stars. The night was clear and cool and the slowed song of the crickets announced the end of summer- the seasons are changing. Melissa and I gave Alibar our goodnight hugs and tucked him in for the night with fresh water, newly-made hay cubes, and turned-over bedding.
Early Wednesday morning, Christie, my good friend and second mom to Alibar, brought him out to graze. When they reached the sandy riding arena, Alibar dove to the ground and had a good old-fashioned horsey roll and then began eating again. He still had a good appetite for grass, but he moved a bit more slowly than he had the day before. The drain was still keeping his chest clear of fluid and his breathing normal- through the wonders of veterinary medicine, we were able to keep him very comfortable and give him one last day of peace and affection. His body was fading but he was full of personality until the very end. He never lost the sparkle in his eyes or the priceless Alibar expressions.
When he had his fill of grazing, he led me and Christie to his paddock. It was a beautiful September day. The sky was clear, the sun was warm, and there was a gentle breeze. All of the horses were in their paddocks, some taking naps and some were munching hay.
For almost a decade, we could not feed any hay to Alibar. He had very bad molars and could not digest hay properly- any hay would give him an impaction colic. We kept him healthy and happy on soaked hay cubes and it was Barn Rule #1 not to give Alibar any hay whatsoever. A barn friend who owns King, Alibar’s paddock neighbor, asked if she could give him a flake of hay on his last day. She brought a big, beautiful flake of hay in his paddock- it was the good stuff, the kind that you could practically put a little vinaigrette on and eat yourself. Alibar pushed his nose into the middle of the hay and blissfully ate this forbidden treat, his eyes closing happily from time to time.
Another barn friend had a handful of Stud Muffins, Alibar’s favorite horse treats. He ate them like bonbons. After his delicious snacks, he walked to his loafing shed and took a nap for about 45 minutes. Then he walked to the corner of his paddock by the shade trees and stood contentedly with his horsey friend, Harmony. They stood together for a very long time, enjoying each other’s company in that wonderful way that horses do.
Alibar came back to the gate of the paddock and we let him come back out to graze. He led me to the most succulent grass and I stood with my hand on his side and back, just enjoying the feel of the strong body that had carried me so far and so fast.
The veterinarian called to let me know that she was on her way. My knees weakened for a moment, knowing what was going to happen.
All afternoon, Alibar and I shared the company of my mom, Christie (Alibar’s leaser/second owner of 13+ years), Diane (Alibar’s first owner who gave Alibar to me), Cathy (barn friend of over a decade and huge fan of Alibar), Jim Reilly, longtime trainer and horsemanship mentor, and my devoted and wonderful husband Jonathan. Boarders and barn staff stopped by to give Alibar hugs and pats.
When the veterinarian arrived, I told her that I wanted to keep Alibar in the soft grassy area where he had spent his afternoon. I also let her know that I was prepared to stand with Alibar and hold him when she euthanized him. She explained the process to our group of friends so that they would be prepared for what they would see. An animal as large as a horse sometimes does not go as peacefully as cats or dogs.
I stood by Alibar’s side, leaning my forehead on his face temple to temple, with my arm around his big jaw. The veterinarian tranquilized him- he became quite sleepy and I cradled his head. She then gave him the final dose of barbituate and took hold of his halter with both hands- with the strength of a weight lifter and the grace of a ballerina, she gently coaxed his body downward. She folded his legs at just the right moment and then he was peacefully on his side with both of us crouched beside him. The veterinarian checked him, looked me in the eyes, and solemnly announced, “He’s gone”.
Our gathering of loved ones each walked up and gave the most wonderful horse in the world a final pat.
When I stood up and looked around, I got a cold chill: Every single horse on the farm had been watching us. They gave a small chorus of whinnies.
I’m comfortable with all of the decisions that I made and I’m proud of the way that I cared for Alibar until the bitter end. Tending to his every need was very cathartic.
Alibar will be cremated and I plan to scatter his ashes at all of our favorite special little places. Our adventures took us through the neighborhoods, state parks, horse shows, fox hunts, and farms of New Jersey and I feel like it will give me great peace to go back to these places in memory of my incredible friend. A friend from the barn gave me a beautiful pear tree and I plan to plant in Alibar’s memory in a special place.
Our little equine funeral party left the farm and I was left with Christie and my mom; along with Diane, we are the people who knew Alibar best and loved him the most. We organized the tack trunk and fussed with horses on the farm- the horses were friendly but they got bored and did not have the same sweet horsey smell that Alibar did.
Mom and Christie left and I puttered around the barn a little longer. I shut the barn lights off and headed to my car when I suddenly felt the deepest sorrow that my soul has ever felt.
I’ve been told by my friends that Alibar and I have a special bond that many people never experience in their lifetimes. I have always appreciated this comment but I never truly understood what it meant until yesterday. There was an understanding between us that was so subtle and so deep- I knew his every move and he knew mine.
Alibar was a gentle and smart teacher- he never bit me, kicked me, or stepped on me. He let me goof around on him- I could ride under a tree and lift myself off his back and hang on a tree branch. Every boyfriend I ever dated has ridden Alibar. He carried my niece when she was a toddler, my aunt, my uncle, my grandma, my mom, my dad, and dozens of friends. He taught me how to be a proper horsewoman- I took so much pride in his training, grooming, and health. The grief will be here for a long time, but there is a beautiful feeling whenever I learn all of the ways that I loved him.
I had written Alibar’s story several months ago for The Ultimate Horse Lover, a book that will be coming out this fall. The story will stay the same, but I did dedicate all of my photos in the book to his memory. He was my original photographic muse, after all.
Gina Spadafori, author of Dogs for Dummies, pet columnist, etc, wrote a lovely tribute to Alibar on her blog.
For those of you who are fortunate enough to have your own “Alibar” in your life right now, whether it’s a horse, cat, ferret, dog, bird, or any other creature, please give him/her a little love for me. And maybe a granola bar dipped in molasses.
A beautiful chapter of my life has ended and a new one is beginning. It is time to chronicle the legend of Alibar and to use the lessons that he taught me.
Rock and Racehorses: Sarah K. Andrew 