Horse

March 3rd, 7:18pm: Last night was truly wicked. I guess the last three weeks of my life – which had been force-fed to me through a blur of coffee, adrenaline, cigars, bites of food here and there (kindly dropped off by caring people – thank you again folks), topped off by the loss of the little guy and then the emotional hammering that accompanied it all hit at once. I have no idea how Kathi has kept it up and hope it doesn’t hit in the same way but I suppose a crash was inevitable. 2 Tylenol PMs and later 3 ibuprofen did nothing to alleviate the pain. I don’t wish that on anybody and I hope it was a one night thing but I suppose it wasn’t a one night thing to get into this shape, so perhaps wishful thinking it will be a one night reconciliation back to health.

Thursday afternoon I leave for Anoka to fix the trailer and pick up Windchill’s ashes. I would guess he’ll finally be back home in the late afternoon or early evening and be back where he belongs.

We’ve decided to open the farm up Saturday, March 8th to allow for those that were unable to say “goodbye” to the little guy to do so if they’d like. I don’t know that we’ll do anything more formal, such as a memorial service – I think his life has been chronicled here as we lived it and breathed it the last three weeks. We will of course have coffee and hot water for cocoa or tea on hand.

March 3rd, 4:07pm: A 3 hour truck ride later and I’m back. And my email box is filled with people hoping that I will continue to post here and I will. I think I need it as much as you do. I also think you need to talk as well. I think we all need to ‘hug’ at a distance (something else Windchill taught me, normally I don’t like people in my airspace and now I find I need them in order to survive, just as he did).

Thus I wish to make an appeal to those with ‘techie’ friends. I will be making a list of the things we need help with to make Windchill’s non-profit a reality. But we have an immediate need that I think somebody can help us fulfill out there – I would like to create an online forum for Windchill and those cared about him. I will gladly continue to post here but I think you need to share your thoughts as well. So many have written such beautiful things, encouragement and concern over our health, poems and songs and pictures. His guestbook – first a way to encourage him, and now a way to grieve for him and say “goodbye” is probably not the solution. It’s a way to shout out at the universe that you care – and you’re doing that and it means so much. I’m sure it would mean a lot to him. And I know it means a lot to those of us who cared for him day and night.

So world I’m asking for your help in creating that forum – either a program I can somehow plug into my website, or a blog site that’s relatively easy to use — but isn’t filled with commercialism either,so we’ll need to find a way to make it affordable to me. Absolutely none of the dollars donated for Windchill are being used to pay for things like the bandwidth all of you fans of his have used with this site, memory space, etc. We feel very strongly those dollars should go first towards whatever the final amounts of all the costs were for his care and then towards his non-profit organization thus I will pay for the site.

By the way, people from all over the world seem to be lighting candles for Windchill – I thought the fact that people have been doing that through his ordeal, and now in his passing, was absolutely beautiful. I think we have our friend at Friends of Barbaro for that:

Candlelight vigil site

March 3rd, 11:07am: I’ve come to realize a big part of the reason I come here is that Windchill made us a family. We could all come here and talk about him, vent our frustrations, our sadness, our anger – and there were people who listened. You’re still coming back – and so am I. And so I’ll tell you what – to help in my own healing, our own healing, I’ll be working on filling in the missing pieces that we never had time to finish. Posting more videos. Posting more pictures. And trying to answer some of the questions that came in. I have to leave for the Twin Cities shortly so I will work on this over time. Later in the week I have to try and give a presentation and pretend that I’m okay. I have four days to get to that point. And in the next couple of weeks I will be working on his new foundation website and as part of that I will move all of this, or at least copy it there – so that those that want to continue to be part of this family can be. Windchill lit the candle. We are determined to keep it burning. And together I hope that we can heal. I go between coherent thought and eyes burning so I can’t promise I won’t slide into hell for moments. But in the end Windchill went through hell and out the other side – and together so will we.

March 2nd, 10:03pm: In my own grief it never occurred to me that some may not have heard of the Rainbow Bridge. You may find comfort in learning about it. Having seen wonders and miracles, and felt both animals and people’s spirits myself – I have no doubt at all there is such a place. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about it and I hope it helps you as you grieve with us about Windchill: The Rainbow Bridge

March 2nd, 9:01pm: While cleaning Windchill’s stall we found a notebook. In it was a letter he had ‘dictated’ to one of his caregivers. It was a note he wanted to send to all of the children who had written him:

Windchill’s letter to all the children

March 2nd, 7:25pm: I realized that with Windchill gone, the only part of the world that kept me sane was here. I could talk to all of you and you cared enough to talk back – in calls, in prayers, in emails and posts. I went from the darkness late at night, and at times bitter cold to find warmth here for a brief time before going back out. In the emptiness left behind I find I return here to be with whoever is still here listening.

We’re finally back after the long drive to bring Windchill for cremation. TWO flat tires on the trailer – one on the freeway there, and one on the spare we replaced it with upon arrival – so the trailer’s still there. I have to find tires that fit it and go back to pick it up, along with Windchill’s ashes on Thursday. I did find some humor while changing the tire – I realized in Windchill’s wonderfully mischievous way he left another quandary – he died on February 29th: Do we commemorate him every four years? Do we remember him February 28th or on March 1st? I had to laugh because I actually think he was bright enough to have thought about that and took the answer with him. The answer is we’ll remember him daily, there isn’t any other way for those of us blessed enough to have been with him for the short time we had. The amazing thing about not only blowing one tire – but two – is that the roads on the return ride were so icy from the falling rain and dropping temperatures that I lost control of the truck once. Had we had the trailer with I am afraid to think of what would’ve happened. Thanks Windchill.

I don’t remember much of the last 3 weeks. Night and day had very little meaning anymore as days blended into nights which were confused by short lapses of bits of sleep. I rarely knew the date as many of you can attest by my goofing it up on here so many times. Attempts to go to work were generally cut short by the need to be here and what time I spent at my office I have to hope I accomplished something, I honestly don’t recall because the time was spent worrying about getting home to be with Windchill.

The time we ‘lost’ – what would normally pass as our lives: sleep, up to let horses out and make sure the herd’s okay, go to work long hours, come home to bring the herd in, feed, grain and water various big and little beings…crash in a chair for a quick bite to eat and relax…became hyper contracted. None of those things went away – they were fit in quicker or accomplished when volunteers could sit with Windchill while we fired up the tractor to move hay bales out to various pastures or moved grain, etc. As more volunteers arrived during the day, they began to help with chores such as the daily stall cleanings and bringing water into the barn which helped immensely. The animals all seemed to understand the need to focus this energy. Walker was Windchill’s pal, bringing him his precious toys he normally doesn’t share and sleeping with him at night. Olivia the cat slept on him, her body helping warm his. The ‘moms’ nickered to him throughout the day and at night he had his half-sisters at each side of his stall. Both of us lost weight, at last count Kathi lost 10 lbs and I had lost 11. I think I could afford to though, so thanks Windchill… But the cost of our lost sleep and the toll on our bodies was a very, very small price to pay for what we wanted to give to Windchill – belief in humans again, and the knowledge that he could be loved. And for that small investment of our lives – Windchill gave us back so much more. While our lives will inevitably return to some level of whatever ‘normal’ will become for Raindance – they will never be the same. Windchill’s contagious spirit, his quiet resolve and determination – that candle of hope that he never, ever let go out inside him – is forever lit in us. I can honestly say he humbled me to a degree it’s hard to put into words. You had to see his bright eyes to understand. There’s a photographer who has come the closest to capturing it that I hope we can share with you soon – unfortunately so many have been taking images and turning them into things they weren’t intended that I won’t post more until I know we have her permission out of respect for her work. You know the sad thing – (like there hasn’t been enough in everything else – we finally put Kisses back in the stall she had given up for Windchill tonight. I think that was probably good. I kept seeing him laying there pushing himself around with his legs…) – Kathi fell asleep the night Windchill died sitting on the floor sorting through alfalfa we had gotten for him and the box and the bucket and the alfalfa still sit on the living room floor.

I would like to say thanks to Jim and Midwest Cremation Services who graciously offered to remain on call both yesterday (we determined we were in no shape to drive yesterday) and again today and was ready to receive Windchill when we got there. Never having gone through this before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The facilities were sparkling. Jim had special equipment for getting Windchill out of the trailer and onto the ground where I removed his halter to bring home. He was carefully moved to the cremation equipment which itself was sparkling clean. It’s so respectful that I was truly impressed.

March 2nd, 7:00am: After finding that Windchill had passed away, I spent that entire night up searching the internet, reading everything I could find on horse starvation, and starvation in general. My heart hurt so badly that my eyes blur now as I think about the little guy. Animal lovers will understand. And you know the feeling if you have kids in our life in some fashion. They become a part of you, they’re innocent, they love unconditionally and expect so little in return that you want to protect them, hold them close. I searched for a reason to blame me. I guess in anguish I needed to find something we did wrong, something we could’ve done that was a wonder miracle cure. 6 or 7 hours of reading til my eyes were raw and the answers kept coming up the same. It all reinforced the overwhelming odds stacked against him and what a miracle it was he lived as long as he did, and that he accomplished as much as he did – standing and walking around, regaining strength and weight. And it all came back to his organs were never going to be able to support his body. The damage from the starvation was too severe. So eventually to live, his spirit had to leave his body behind. I have to severely restrain myself to not lash out at what brought him to this point. God, please help me to forgive because I’m having trouble doing it myself.

This morning we take Windchill’s body on its last ride here on earth. We leave for Anoka shortly. Normally I love loading up horses in the trailer and going for a ride somewhere. This morning’s ride may be the hardest of my life. Man I loved that little guy. We all did. I know you did too. He just had such a sweet, innocent, mischievous personality you couldn’t not love him. Lifting his head to see why you’re not petting him. Grunting a bit when he wanted some water or more food. Sighing as he was brushed and massaged. Nuzzling when it was quiet and it was just Kathi or me and him laying there next to him. I got addicted to that little whinny he made each time we’d open the door to return to the barn, or we left him for too long in his opinion to clean the stalls next to him so we’d have to go back in there and give him another hug. So this morning I guess I  fail in another goal I had for Windchill – one more hello than goodbyes.

Many have asked about Windchill’s foundation. We know what it’s mission will be and we know in general who we will be working with but it’s too soon to have begun the work.  We began developing the idea for his foundation as Windchill mentored us in the belief that there is power in hope and that one soul can cause change. And if one 9 month old soul can unite a world and bring together strangers from all walks of life – we figured he could lead all of us to change the world a step at a time. Just like he did. And just like his spirit will do. We have a restricted fund set up for him. Those dollars that went to Equine Allies will be used to reimburse those that bought so many supplies for him, the equipment we were a day away from going live with to monitor him (and let you sit with him alsol), as well as his other needs along with his medicine and medical bills. I don’t know what happens to any remaining dollars there but their cause is a good one and so I’m not worried. Those dollars that have been contributed to his restricted fund will be used for his foundation – our dream is that what Windchill brought together will continue. We’ve witnessed first-hand the miracle that is generated when people join together and believe.

I see his volunteers are back to say “goodbye” before we leave. My heart breaks again. Two nights ago Larry Ericksen brought over a solid metal pipe we were going to put on the barn ceiling today. Gary Niemi, our official barn engineer, had come up with an idea for  extending the chain and winch we used for Windchill to allow for even more movement without Windchill reaching the end of the sling and chains and getting them twisted when he walked around a lot. Windchill was getting taller and heavier, so we needed to come up with a new system. Then today was going to be a quiet pizza party and celebration of his time with us and how well he was doing. Sigh. I have to go.

March 1st, 6:12pm: Out of respect for the world that was unable to come pay their last respects today to Windchill, and to allow for the many who love him to see him at peace, we allowed the Duluth News-Tribune and WDIO-TV to view him as he rests. We’d like to say that both organizations were very caring, respecting those who came to mourn and respectful of him, shooting pictures only after asking. For that we are very grateful.

The morning was a very sad one. We had to re-live the event over and over as people arrived to meet the little hero only to find that he had passed away the night before. Each time was met by tears and hugs. Uncalled, his care team arrived early to be with him. For one last time they gathered together to gently lift him and carry him into the waiting trailer. Kathi had to leave. I thought I could help. I found out I was wrong. I honestly thought the next time Windchill left his stall would be under his own power, probably charging out the door into the aisle as he had tried to do so many times before. It was a day of tears and hugs. Windchill’s admirers came in a steady flow throughout the day, bringing flowers, cards, treats and a lot of love.

The woman who won the painting of Windchill and Walker (by artist Deborah Sprague) came to pay her respects – and give the winning bid amount to Windchill’s foundation.  She is donating the painting to us to hang above the fireplace.

The answering machine filled with messages throughout the day. Many were folks crying so hard we couldn’t understand the actual message but truly understood the meaning and sentiments.  Our veterinarian called to tell our care team we did an amazing job and that Windchill’s loss was due to secondary complications caused by his malnutrition.

Various folks emailed or stopped by, worried that what happened to Windchill happened after the webcam turned off. That was actually not related – yesterday the webcam was setup on my laptop computer which was on a chair in the middle aisle of my barn (hence the reason many of you got a close up view of Walker over and over as he examined the cam). With the vet coming over at close to the same time as Windchill’s scheduled lift time, as well as the time we bring the youngsters into their stalls, and Annie into the middle aisle where she rules the roost, the cam had to be shut down and moved or become the victim of horseplay. After a thorough examination which I noted earlier, Windchill was lifted by the team. He was more tired than usual, and after wandering about his stall for a bit he decided to lay down so we lowered him back down. Our vet re-examined him and found his pulse rate was normal and that he was not stressed from the raising or lowering.

The care team left early and we sat with Windchill until 9pm. He was his usual self, a bit restless, but tired from his day of trying to get up on his own. Many of you viewed his attempts to rise and were heartened by his spirit.

At midnight I went out for my final check of the night. My first sign that something was wrong was Walker – he came out of the garage to greet me. Walker has not left Windchill’s side at night since his first night here. I ran for the barn, threw open the door and there was the next sign – no little whinny. I called to him. No return whinny. I entered his stall and found that Windchill had passed away. I ran to get Kathi and we examined him. What we found was that he showed no signs of distress and no signs of suffering. He passed quickly and quietly in his sleep, more than likely his heart finally giving out due to the prolonged starvation. When a horse loses 50% of its bodyweight, its prognosis for survival is extremely poor – hence the 1% odds he had been given at the beginning. The fact that he survived as long as he did, as well as he did, was truly a miracle and a testament to his sheer willpower. A horse’s body, in extreme starvation mode and with no other reserves or means of survival, will turn to the only available source of protein available to it – the tissues of its own heart and vital organs. Essentially the horse’s body destroys itself trying to survive. Thus in the end, we believe Windchill’s growing body and weight hit the limit his heart could support and it stopped. It was quick, painless and Windchill passed in his sleep. While we never wanted him to go, if he had to leave us this painless passing was the probably the best we could ask for for his sake.

March 1st, 9:07am: In our grief we hadn’t stopped to think about the many that are hurting along with us. Windchill’s fight was all of our fight. Today (Saturday, March 1st) our farm will be open to those that wish to pay their final respects to this brave soul. I don’t know what else to say other than thank you for your thoughts and prayers. And in time I guess this won’t hurt so much and our hearts won’t rain like they are now.

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