DOBBY, WHAT NEXT?

DOBBY, WHAT NEXT?

There is always a risk buying living things. Some more altruistic beings believe it is immoral to buy or trade in sentient creatures—they may be right. My husband and I do buy or adopt-for-a-fee animals and strive to provide a quality, healthy home with dignity and love. A forever home is our goal, and in thirty-three years we have only re-homed three companion animals, all birds. Our beloved, Phydough is a canine senior citizen, waddling deafly through her days with ever increasing incontinence and cloudy eyes. She is happy to see us and even happier to be fed. Although her tail seems forever stuck at half staff, she wags it with subtle, underwhelming enthusiasm. She is ‘pack’.

Last summer I wrote with vigor and concern about my ‘new’ horse and ‘herd’ member. A little black, Arab gelding stole my heart with his adorable face and joy to have his own person once again. He was older than I wanted at 17-18. As a rescue, he came with little background. I named him Black Diamond; he was a girl’s best friend. Within a month, I realized his real name was Dobby, the resourceful and devoted house elf from Harry Potter. And so it was, and we enjoyed our time together on the trail, in the arena and especially at the ‘spa’ where I could lavish Dobby with all the grooming and foo foo we could tolerate. He was the most adorable horse. Adorable.

Hmmm… He has an incomplete Arab brand. I know he was born in a year ending in a “1”, 1981 or 1991, making him 16 or 26. In November he had his teeth floated and the vet said he was 23. Hmmm…

Winter was harsh this year. Platina got about 13-14 days of snow. This is nothing compared to the Midwest or Northeast, but for Platina—perhaps a record. None of the Ranch horses have blankets and most have no inside privileges. They live like ‘real horses’ growing wooly mammoth winter coats. Dobby has a coat like a rabbit pelt, thick and soft as down. It wasn’t enough. Along with his paddock mate, Mica Morgan, the hooligan food hoarder, Dobby was unable to get enough nutrition. Even with daily supplemental grain in a pen by himself, it wasn’t enough. Dobby withered to a bag of bones, a pathetic stick character of a horse, a threstal. He was stiff, almost sullen when asked to ride. Ever sweet and affectionate at liberty, he was not thriving.

Four months after proclaiming Dobby to be 23, the same vet said I had a 30 year old horse with significant arthritis in both front legs, the lameness extended down to the tips of his hard, black hooves. Dobby was--as I had worried--in chronic pain and starving. How does a horse go from 23 to 30 in four months??? How did a horse go from 17-18, to 23 to 30 in eight months? As most experienced horse people already know, after 15 yrs teeth become less accurate. There is a LARGE fudge factor. Other elements: nutrition, care, living conditions, become more significant. Most obviously, Dobby is a hard, hard keeper, an elder statesman deserving a relaxed and warm dining experience with no competition. I can picture him in a quilted silk smoking jacket by a fire lit hearth, a glass of vintage brandy glowing amber. On an end table a cut crystal bowl of rich, fortified alfalfa cubes. He is reading a book on the care and feeding of humans.

Happily, Dobby is back where we got him, at the “Fat Farm” in Hayfork under the direct care of the woman who rescued him once before. She still believes he in his teens, and no where near 30. In just two weeks of daily weight building vitamin and mineral supplements he is already perking up and running to the gate for his senior banquet. Once the weight is back on, we will try arthritis pain management—not to mask any injuries or infirmities, but to keep him comfortable. Then we will assess his future. I believe semi-retirement is lurking.

The best news is whether Dobby returns to active duty (with a hard keeper regimen and new roommate), limited service (flat work or short trails) or total retirement; he has a place to convalesce with full benefits at a reasonable price, hopefully for the rest of his life. What horse needs a gold watch? They know what time it is. Time for peace, eating, dignity and love.