January 30, 2007
A long goodbye for Barbaro
Barbaro feisty before running the Kentucky Derby, above, and triumphant after, below.
The Barbaro saga reminds me of a very tough interval we had after we got a diagnosis of our cat Oliver's illness ("Goodbye to a fine grey boy"), in conjunction with murky guidance on how to proceed from the two vets involved.
You could basically look at the next three months as a waste of thousands of dollars to nobody's benefit, or ...
You could say we gave Oliver medical treatments that gave him at least a chance of recovery, and moments where he continued to be a happy part of our clan, sitting contentedly on the arm of one of our chairs as we watched DVDs.
Barbaro's owners were in a similar boat.
They knew, as we also sensed in our more trivial situation, that Barbaro had very little chance of surviving. But with some hope extended by the vets, they were not ready to say goodbye without at least giving their Thoroughbred a chance to heal.
I had the same decision to make with Oliver when he was sick and I took him to the Chesapeake Veterinary Referral Center. As I wrote at the time, after receiving a whopping great price estimate for our cat's care from a tech:
She left me alone in the room with Ollie. He seemed perked up by his surroundings, curious and engaged in his gentle way. "Do you think we should try this?" I asked him, rubbing his ears.
After an expensive four days of treatment, Ollie came home and required very intensive nursing, through which he was a willing, docile and winning patient. As I wrote:
Over the next two months, Ollie became restored, and then he began to seem better than new. Now I kept him strictly on Royal Canin S/O. His coat for the first time in his life grew glossy and thick. He lost a few pounds and seemed more active. All in all, he had a vibrant renaissance.He began to prowl around and to chase Casey in a way he had not done in years. I put his old collar and bell on him to kept track of him during his recuperation. He would jingle from the kitchen, and I would call out from my office, "Ollie, watcha doin'."
When Oliver got sick the second time, he was out of reprieves. In hindsight, we bought him a long goodbye instead of a wrenching brief one.
Barbaro's owners similarly were within their rights to give the champ at least a chance of recovery. In his final months, Barbaro appeared to enjoy some happy moments nickering at mares in the next pasture, signaling to his nurses when he needed a rest by shaking his sling, and making friends with a Swiss cow named Mocha in the next pasture at the University of Pennsylvania's New Bolton Center.
Some wonderful commentary:
Diminished Body, Persevering Spirit: Nurturing Medical Staff Keeps Barbaro Alive by John Scheinman
Barbaro, The Heart In the Winner's Circle by Jane Smiley
A 'Bottomless' Heart by Sally Jenkins
Barbaro's final moments came not in shock on a track during a race, but in his stall after months of visits from his owners, his trainer, his jockey, the vet and devoted nurses. It was a gentler road for a noble animal. His owners detected in him a powerful will to heal. Despite his will and determination, he just couldn't overcome the frailty that is a Thoroughbred's ankle.
A Swiss cow named Mocha tries to give Barbaro a kiss as head surgeon Dr. Dean Richardson walks him.
