30+ black TB pony Mare
A rare shot of Picadilly's face, as usually her forelock hides her star. Thanks DeeAnn Bradley for this beautiful shot taken Augus 2010
This very aged pony is a TB cross, black, and tiny. She is slow moving and well behaved, and LOVES her feed! Although Julie described her as ‘toothless’, in fact she bites off a carrot with ease and chews pellets and grass hay without cudding. But I will admit, she’s pretty old. Once I get Fred out for them, I hope to have a good estimate of her age....
Her former owner wrote:
"Pic rescued my daughter ... at a time when she had been almost scared off from riding horses further by a pony that was more than she could handle. At that time Pic came along, welcomed (my daughter) and offered her a safe ride, and won ribbons and attention at horse shows. We decided to "rescue" her as she had "rescued" (my daughter). She deserves a final home that will allow her to spend her remaining years with people that can offer her safety and happiness."
He finished with his commitment to provide support and required me to return ownership and possession of Pic back to him, if TGC should no longer be able to provide a home. Now THAT’s what I’m talking about! That is how I want everyone to feel, and act, about their equine friends.
Princess Picadilly Passes
I’m so sad to report the passing of the sweet, gracious Princess Picadilly, who only had 6 months here before her age caught up with her. Only Phoenix had less time, but unlike Phoenix, Pic had lived a full life, much loved by her former owners and sponsors, Peter and his daughter Emma. You can read of their love for Picadilly on her page at http://goldencarrotrescue.com/PrincessPicadilly.aspx In her short time with me, she made an enormous impression on me, for such a teeny horse.
Pic was very elderly - her molars were worn down to almost nothing so she ate only pelleted feed. She looked like a Cushings horse, but Peter and Emma had all the testing you could imagine done, and she still came up not-Cushings. Her longish hair in her last years, her huge appetite that never seemed to translate into flesh, and her amazing urination that resulted in her pet name with me being "Swamp thing", were all simply the result of a very very old pony, whose systems were slowly shutting down.
She was still full of spunk tho, and loved having her protector Pepe by her side. Although Peter and Emma referred to these two as the "Senior Couple", my impression was a little different. Although I know horses don’t have the same relationship for as long as we do, Pepe seemed much more a devoted and concerned son, watching over his elderly mom. He checked on her multiple times during the day, but she loved to doze in the shade, and he was busy playing with his gelding friends or trying to get "next to" Song. And I don’t deny he was dismayed at her last weeks when a stifle injury, resulting in her difficulty getting up off the ground, made for some scary times. He screamed for me, and her, and she called back reassuringly. And once on her feet, she would check with him, and they would both go eat. "I’m fine son - Ok mom" is how it seemed to me.
That stifle injury, combined with untimely and unaccustomed monsoons of rain, followed by bitter freezing weather, ultimately became more than Pic could handle. At her age, all these difficulties combined to take her last strength. I finally called out Fred Zadick DVM to help her let go. Peter astutely made the comparison of an old grandmother who was fine hobbling around on her walker, but then inadvertently falls and breaks her hip. It’s just too much for someone that frail. When Fred arrived, I think Pic thought we wanted to try to get her up again, and she made a half-hearted effort, but I assured her it was ok to stay down. I held her head on my lap and wiped the dirt off her face, and combed her forelock while Fred did his job. She sighed deeply and long, and was gone.
After she was gone, I opened the gate so Pepe and the other horses in the South Stream herd who had begun to love Pic could pay their respects. And when he went in for dinner, Pepe didn’t eat right away. He stood with his head at the window where he used to watch Pic - missing her. As do Peter and Emma. As do I. A big little horse, with the gracious dignity of her years and experience, and lots of spunk. She leaves a huge Pic-shaped hole behind