Post by lizpurlo on Nov 7, 2010 1:34:39 GMT 1
Five years ago today, Chutney entered my life - and twelve weeks later, he left it. I am still haunted by his story; I know I was meant to have him, and that I was meant to lose him, but it still hurts..... he would have been five years old now, and the DG would have been full of his exploits. This seems like a good place and time to tell his story.
In March 2005 I had lost my wonderful cob Cymro, kindest and wisest of horses. In May I decided to treat myself to a youngster, bred along the same lines, and eventually bought a plain and backward little yearling colt from his breeder. I had him gelded, he acquired the stable name of Mango, and he rapidly grew and put on weight. By the autumn he was quite sharp and very well, and obviously bored with the company of my two older cobs, so we decided he needed a pal of his own age - who was of course always going to be called Chutney!
So OH and I set off for Brecon Fair Day sale with the lorry. We trawled round the pens, crammed full of cobs and ponies in various states of wildness and condition, didn't see anything much that we fancied. OH went back to the lorry for a coffee and I went round again. And there he was, a neat dark brown colt, tied up in the pen and being brushed by his breeder, an elderly gentleman. The colt, alert and interested, sniffed at my jacket as I scratched his withers and asked the breeder about him. Totally genuine, well handled, properly weaned, beautifully bred by a lovely old Cathedine stallion. I dashed back to the lorry and told OH 'I've found Chutney, come and see him, quick!!'
And less than two hours later the colt was mine. We threaded him through the packed car park and back to the lorry. OH let the ramp down and Chutney pricked his ears and charged up into the lorry, as if to say ' Oh, thank goodness, we're going home, let's get out of this awful place right now...'
Mango was utterly charmed by his new pal, and Chutney settled in right away. He was a sweetheart, easy to catch and quite unflappable. Everything I wanted, in fact; Mango, now big and well, was going through a Kevin the Teenager phase, and life with him would have been nearly impossible without Chutney. They had a lovely field with plenty of winter keep, but I had to lead them out there every morning across another big field. Some mornings Mango would stop, swish his tail, half rear; sometimes I could kid him along, other times I had to let go of Chutney, needing all my strength and attention on Mango. Chutney would potter along behind, always there or thereabouts, giving both Mango and me confidence, I think.
Chutney, the day after I bought him.
But from quite early on I was aware of a 'not quite right-ness' about him. One night I brought him in and he looked a bit odd, got down and rolled and got cast. I manged to haul him round and he jumped up, passed some droppings and seemed ok, but I was a bit concerned. He wouldn't eat much either, and eventually I'd mix up his alpha and beet pulp in his bowl and put a little pile of feed balancer on the top - he'd eat the balancer pellets right away and spend all night eating the rest, rarely eating more than a handful of hay. I would go out last thing and he would usually be looking out over his door, gazing across the yard at the frosty winter fields beyond..... I wished he'd eat more, but they did have some good keep, and he and Mango spent a lot of time playing, galloping round, bucking and kicking - he didn't look like a sick horse.
He was such a sweet wee guy to have around. One night I remember bringing him and Mango in, up through the orchard - it was a wet and windy night, and in hurrying them through the gate I let go of Chutney's leadrope while trying to shut the gate. And suddenly Mango was plunging forward, pulling me up the slippery bank in the dark and I was desperately trying to keep hold of him and stay on my feet - we struggled up the bank - and there was Chutney - I can see him now - standing under the cowshed light, waiting for us - Mango and I both let out a great sigh of relief, and order was instantly restored! Another frosty night I slipped on the ice and fell right underneath Chutney, ended up ridiculously lying on my back under his belly; he looked round mildly at me 'what on earth are you doing down there?' Mango would have hit the panic button....
I measured his girth one morning in January, to find out how much weight he'd gained - and realised with a jolt that the measurement was exactly the same as it had been when I'd bought him in early November. Mango had gained nearly two inches in the same period. I wormed him again, this time for tapeworm - no difference. I couldn't understand what was wrong - but disaster was just round the corner.
On the first Sunday in February he had colic. My vet was here quickly, did all the usual stuff, thought he had a blockage, didn't recommend surgery - I'm not insured so it was never really an option. He came out again that afternoon. I sat up with Chutney that night, willing him to improve, hope and despair. Another vet's visit on Monday..... and at some point on the Monday night I realised that all hope had gone. 'NO!!!' I cried to the Universe. 'Please let me keep this one, I've just lost Cymro, don't make me lose this one too......'
It was no good. Everything slotted into place on that awful morning. I rang the vet early, asked him to call in and put Chutney down - my vet is always in this area on a Tuesday, so it wasn't a problem. I asked Mango if he would leave now, before the vet arrived, and go out with the other two, and he turned away without a glance at Chutney, their goodbyes already said, his calm acceptance at odds with my grief and despair. A ewe had died in the night so the farmer was going down to the knacker's anyway, easy enough to put poor Chutney's body in with the dead ewe. A day later, and my vet was at the other end of the county, the farmer and his son on a long-planned day out, and I was all alone. All was made as simple as it could have been for me; the Universe hadn't entirely abandoned me.......
My vet rang that evening. He'd done a pm on his way home. And Chutney, my beautiful beloved colt, had had a stricture of the small intestine, probably a congenital defect, a section of gut which hadn't grown with the rest, and which was too narrow to allow sufficient fibre through.... Chutney would have been fine on his mother's milk but could never have survived to maturity, and sadly must also have suffered low levels of colic pains throughout his wee life. Nothing I could have done; he was just a little doomed creature. At least for his twelve weeks here he had a good stable, a deep bed, company and love.
And since then...... another visit to Brecon Market the following November yielded a sturdy brown colt, less glamorous than Chutney, but solid and strong. He is now my wonderful and treasured Dave, who has already brought us so much pleasure and amusement..... and consolation.
One last postscript. In August 2008 I sold Mango who by then was heading north of sixteen hands and way too big for me. So a third trip to Brecon, this time for a companion for Dave. I came home with another well-bred colt very similar to Chutney physically, but terribly traumatised by rough handling, fearful and jumpy. I didn't like his registered name, and no stable name came to mind immediately, but Dave liked him which was the main thing. I came out of the house one icy starlit night just before Christmas to check round and walk the old dog. A neat dark Welsh head, white star and snip, was looking over the far stable door, gazing across to the frosty winter fields. And for a millisecond, I thought 'Oh, Chutney!' - then remembering, eyes misting, '...no, not Chutney. Echoes of Chutney....'
And so Echo got his name.
Goodnight Chutney, my treasured one. In my heart forever.
In March 2005 I had lost my wonderful cob Cymro, kindest and wisest of horses. In May I decided to treat myself to a youngster, bred along the same lines, and eventually bought a plain and backward little yearling colt from his breeder. I had him gelded, he acquired the stable name of Mango, and he rapidly grew and put on weight. By the autumn he was quite sharp and very well, and obviously bored with the company of my two older cobs, so we decided he needed a pal of his own age - who was of course always going to be called Chutney!
So OH and I set off for Brecon Fair Day sale with the lorry. We trawled round the pens, crammed full of cobs and ponies in various states of wildness and condition, didn't see anything much that we fancied. OH went back to the lorry for a coffee and I went round again. And there he was, a neat dark brown colt, tied up in the pen and being brushed by his breeder, an elderly gentleman. The colt, alert and interested, sniffed at my jacket as I scratched his withers and asked the breeder about him. Totally genuine, well handled, properly weaned, beautifully bred by a lovely old Cathedine stallion. I dashed back to the lorry and told OH 'I've found Chutney, come and see him, quick!!'
And less than two hours later the colt was mine. We threaded him through the packed car park and back to the lorry. OH let the ramp down and Chutney pricked his ears and charged up into the lorry, as if to say ' Oh, thank goodness, we're going home, let's get out of this awful place right now...'
Mango was utterly charmed by his new pal, and Chutney settled in right away. He was a sweetheart, easy to catch and quite unflappable. Everything I wanted, in fact; Mango, now big and well, was going through a Kevin the Teenager phase, and life with him would have been nearly impossible without Chutney. They had a lovely field with plenty of winter keep, but I had to lead them out there every morning across another big field. Some mornings Mango would stop, swish his tail, half rear; sometimes I could kid him along, other times I had to let go of Chutney, needing all my strength and attention on Mango. Chutney would potter along behind, always there or thereabouts, giving both Mango and me confidence, I think.
Chutney, the day after I bought him.
But from quite early on I was aware of a 'not quite right-ness' about him. One night I brought him in and he looked a bit odd, got down and rolled and got cast. I manged to haul him round and he jumped up, passed some droppings and seemed ok, but I was a bit concerned. He wouldn't eat much either, and eventually I'd mix up his alpha and beet pulp in his bowl and put a little pile of feed balancer on the top - he'd eat the balancer pellets right away and spend all night eating the rest, rarely eating more than a handful of hay. I would go out last thing and he would usually be looking out over his door, gazing across the yard at the frosty winter fields beyond..... I wished he'd eat more, but they did have some good keep, and he and Mango spent a lot of time playing, galloping round, bucking and kicking - he didn't look like a sick horse.
He was such a sweet wee guy to have around. One night I remember bringing him and Mango in, up through the orchard - it was a wet and windy night, and in hurrying them through the gate I let go of Chutney's leadrope while trying to shut the gate. And suddenly Mango was plunging forward, pulling me up the slippery bank in the dark and I was desperately trying to keep hold of him and stay on my feet - we struggled up the bank - and there was Chutney - I can see him now - standing under the cowshed light, waiting for us - Mango and I both let out a great sigh of relief, and order was instantly restored! Another frosty night I slipped on the ice and fell right underneath Chutney, ended up ridiculously lying on my back under his belly; he looked round mildly at me 'what on earth are you doing down there?' Mango would have hit the panic button....
I measured his girth one morning in January, to find out how much weight he'd gained - and realised with a jolt that the measurement was exactly the same as it had been when I'd bought him in early November. Mango had gained nearly two inches in the same period. I wormed him again, this time for tapeworm - no difference. I couldn't understand what was wrong - but disaster was just round the corner.
On the first Sunday in February he had colic. My vet was here quickly, did all the usual stuff, thought he had a blockage, didn't recommend surgery - I'm not insured so it was never really an option. He came out again that afternoon. I sat up with Chutney that night, willing him to improve, hope and despair. Another vet's visit on Monday..... and at some point on the Monday night I realised that all hope had gone. 'NO!!!' I cried to the Universe. 'Please let me keep this one, I've just lost Cymro, don't make me lose this one too......'
It was no good. Everything slotted into place on that awful morning. I rang the vet early, asked him to call in and put Chutney down - my vet is always in this area on a Tuesday, so it wasn't a problem. I asked Mango if he would leave now, before the vet arrived, and go out with the other two, and he turned away without a glance at Chutney, their goodbyes already said, his calm acceptance at odds with my grief and despair. A ewe had died in the night so the farmer was going down to the knacker's anyway, easy enough to put poor Chutney's body in with the dead ewe. A day later, and my vet was at the other end of the county, the farmer and his son on a long-planned day out, and I was all alone. All was made as simple as it could have been for me; the Universe hadn't entirely abandoned me.......
My vet rang that evening. He'd done a pm on his way home. And Chutney, my beautiful beloved colt, had had a stricture of the small intestine, probably a congenital defect, a section of gut which hadn't grown with the rest, and which was too narrow to allow sufficient fibre through.... Chutney would have been fine on his mother's milk but could never have survived to maturity, and sadly must also have suffered low levels of colic pains throughout his wee life. Nothing I could have done; he was just a little doomed creature. At least for his twelve weeks here he had a good stable, a deep bed, company and love.
And since then...... another visit to Brecon Market the following November yielded a sturdy brown colt, less glamorous than Chutney, but solid and strong. He is now my wonderful and treasured Dave, who has already brought us so much pleasure and amusement..... and consolation.
One last postscript. In August 2008 I sold Mango who by then was heading north of sixteen hands and way too big for me. So a third trip to Brecon, this time for a companion for Dave. I came home with another well-bred colt very similar to Chutney physically, but terribly traumatised by rough handling, fearful and jumpy. I didn't like his registered name, and no stable name came to mind immediately, but Dave liked him which was the main thing. I came out of the house one icy starlit night just before Christmas to check round and walk the old dog. A neat dark Welsh head, white star and snip, was looking over the far stable door, gazing across to the frosty winter fields. And for a millisecond, I thought 'Oh, Chutney!' - then remembering, eyes misting, '...no, not Chutney. Echoes of Chutney....'
And so Echo got his name.
Goodnight Chutney, my treasured one. In my heart forever.
Carpe diem 
