The first day I brought Phaolan home there were foreshadows stretching from every solid object. Had I opened my eyes more that day, I might have saved myself a lot of money, pain and heartbreak down the road.
On that first day after turning Phaolan loose in the round pen I witnessed his defiant self-righteousness. When his nose bumped the hot wire stretched across the top board he did not startle, snort and spook like the mares on the other side. Instead he threw his head and hooves to the sky and obliterated the fence with violent, enraged strikes. He then calmly backed away from the ruins, turned and walked towards me. His motives were perfectly clear. He had been assaulted for no reason he could conceive and the fence paid a dear price for its insolence. Pity me for making a similar mistake.
And mistakes I made. Mistakes that left me injured, humbled and scared of this horse. For months I clung to the belief that inside this little brat, there was a willing partner. With determination and patience I would tame the beast. And if I wasn’t skilled enough, I would find a trainer who could. I would give Phaolan as many opportunities as it took to develop into the horse I knew he could be.
When I left Polestar I took Phaolan to a well respected gentle cowboy I had known for years. In his hands, my evil genius would have a fresh start at a slow pace. After a week of equine expletives, Phaolan seemed to resign to the fact that he was a domesticated animal and should act accordingly. And in the next few weeks before he exploded and hospitalized that trainer, he had seemed to be making progress. And it was this progress that made me still have faith in him. So despite the fact that he had severely injured yet another person, I gave him another chance.
I turned him out to pasture for the winter in the hopes that he would mature mentally. I found another willing talented trainer in Hawaii to help me with him despite full disclosure of his previous behavior. I planned to continue spending good money after bad flying him to Hawaii for yet another chance.
But absence did not make the heart grow fonder. When I returned to Portland after five months of not seeing my little horse, I was shocked and then terrified of him. The horse with potential I bought one year ago was nowhere to be found. In his place was a monster. I don’t know if he truly got that much worse while turned out to pasture or if I was finally able to see what had been so apparent to others. But he was not a horse that could safely be flown to Hawaii, or a horse that could be ethically re-homed.
This horse drove me to do something I, as a veterinarian, had done before for clients, but never thought I would do for myself. I put him down. Not because he disappointed me. Not because I was hemorrhaging money bribing people to help me with him. Not because four professional trainers all had told me to euthanize him. Not because he had been evicted from four barns, but because he scared me and was polluting my love for horses.
Sure I had other options. I had a naive, innocent young rider willing to take on the challenge. I am sure she thought, like I had mistakenly thought, that no one had tried hard enough and that Phaolan was just misunderstood. I could have had her sign away liability, take some money from her and make myself feel better that I gave him another chance. But the truth is, he didn’t deserve another chance. There are so many wonderful Thoroughbreds out there that deserve the kind of forever loving home that I was trying to provide Phaolan. Horses that have run their hearts out and ruptured ligaments along the way trying to please. These horses deserve homes and second chances. Not Phaolan.
I was wrong about what Phaolan would become and for days I have been crying and beating myself up. At first I was concerned that my “gut instinct” was no longer reliable and I would never be able to pick out another diamond in the rough. But then I remembered what my gut instinct had told me about this horse. My first impression of Phaolan was “Yuck, why did I drive all the way out here?” He was ugly, mean, untouchable behind the shoulder with upright stifles that most surely would lock up on him. He had a bad reputation already and he was only three. But I ignored my gut. I told myself “But he is your favorite horse’s brother. What if he turns out like her?” So I bought him.
Well, shame on me.
