He was in my life for three years.

For those three years, he was the sweetest, kindest horse. Normally he was regarded as the 'bully' at the barn. But not to me. Towards me, he had his grumpy moments, but you could see the light of love light up his eyes when I walked into the barn.

He would poke his head out of his stall and nicker, knowing that love (and treats) were on their way. I would step into his stall and groom him, and we would relax together and simply bond. When it came time to ride, our minds melded to the point where I hardly had to pull my reins or kick him; he simply knew where I wanted to go, and what I was going to ask him to do and then did it. It was the greatest feeling in the world, and it felt like it would last for forever.

However, like all good things, it had to come to an end. And this could not have come at a worse time.

On Tuesday, February 22nd, we were having our lesson like always. However, we had hardly begun to trot before my trainer stopped me - something was wrong with his left hind leg. After trotting around for a bit more, it was clear he was lame. He worked out of it a bit, but when we stepped up to the canter, he refused to turn right. We loosened his bridle, thinking that it might be pinching him, and it helped for a little bit. However, after trotting a few steps, he was lame again, and my trainer and I decided to let him have the day off and rest. Walking him back to the barn, I cleaned him up a tad before tacking up the horse right next to him and finishing up my lesson. When I came back to the barn, I cleaned up the horse I had been riding, then went to his stall and finished cleaning him up, looking him over to make sure there wasn't a cut or anything that could lead to a more serious problem then lameness. Upon not finding anything, I gave him some love, words of encouragement, some treats, and a 'See you on Saturday!'

That Saturday, he was fine.

Our next lesson was on Tuesday, March 1st. I was a mess; my great-aunt had passed away two days before, not even one week after her 76th birthday (which was incidentally February 22nd). Since I was so upset, I was a bit out of sync with him - I hadn't noticed that he was once again lame, and that this time it was in his right hind. However, once my instructor pointed it out, it was painfully obvious that jumping was going to be out of the question. We simply worked on the flat, this time getting up to the canter for a little bit. Unfortunately, the lesson was a repeat of the previous week - once we stepped up to the canter and went to turn in a circle to the right, he flat out refused, to the point where he spun in very quick circles to the left. After about 20 minutes, both my instructor and I decided that it was going to be pointless to continue - we didn't want to hurt him any more then he already was hurting. Returning to the barn, I cleaned him off, put my tack up, and gave him a big hug and a kiss, telling him to please feel better.

Thursday, I left for New York to attend my aunt's funeral. When I came home from school the following Monday, one of the stable hands - a good friend of mine - had posted on my wall on Facebook, asking me where I had been lately. I responded that I had been attending my aunt's funeral in New York, but that I would be up the next day.

When I got home from school the next day, it was March 8th. I put my things down on the floor and started to get ready to head up to the barn to ride. However, before we left, my dad came out of his office, telling me very seriously that he needed to talk to me. Thinking it was nothing major, I asked him what it was. The words that came out of his mouth were the very words I never hoped to hear: "Your trainer called earlier. Riggs is very sick." My heart dropped; I asked him what he meant in a state of shock. He told me that he had begun to get sick on Thursday, and that they called the vet, who gave him some fluids via a tube. That seemed to help him for a bit, but then on Sunday, when doing the rounds in the morning, he had been sprawled out on the floor of his stall, unable to get up. To get him up, they had to rip out the back of the stall and literally pull him up - thankfully a paddock was right outside of his stall, so that he could just stay out there for the day. By this point, I was crying - sobbing - but I said that I wanted to go up and see him. After a few minutes, I managed to stop crying, feeling like I couldn't show him that I was upset; I needed to be strong for him.

The verdict at the time was West-Nile.

When I got to the barn, my friend came over to me and told me that he was out in the paddock. I walked out the back of the barn and looked into the paddock. He was lying on the ground, and he wasn't moving. I immediately thought that he was already dead. As I walked towards him, I tried not to cry; it was all I could do to hold the tears back. Stepping into the paddock, I squatted by his face. Upon seeing that he was still alive, the dam broke, and I started sobbing as I gently pat his face. Sitting there like that, I barely registered as my friend brought out a water bucket for me to sit on - I just wanted to be next to him.
The vet came, and we gave him some fluids. They seemed to help - he was eating, and he actually urinated, which was a good sign. At 8 o'clock, I had to leave. Putting his blanket on so that he wouldn't get cold, we turned out his friend - the same horse I had rode when he was lame two weeks prior. Giving him a kiss and a hug, I looked him in the eye and told him just how much I loved him. I promised him that I would come up as soon as I got out of school the next day to visit him - I had every intention of being up at the barn all day. After leaving the paddock, I watched him for a bit - he was turning in circles, trying to walk over to his friend.

When I got home from school the next day, I was ready to head up to the barn. Once again, my dad had come out of his office, a serious look on his face. Asking him what was wrong, he told me my instructor had called again.

He had passed away during the night. The date was March 9th, 2011.

While we originally thought that he was suffering from West-Nile Encephalitis, two weeks after his death the blood panels, as well as the parasite panel came back negative. In fact, they came back negative for every virus and parasite tested. The only one that was slightly elevated was Equine Herpes, though we ruled that out for two reasons: 1. He was not suffering from any of the symptoms, 2. None of the other horses at the barn were suffering from the symptoms.

After West Nile had been ruled out, the vet presented two more options: one would be that he was suffering from an Inner Ear Infection which would account for the vast majority of his symptoms. The only problem with that diagnosis would be that Inner Ear Infections are more common in small animals - they hardly ever occur in horses, or any large animal.

The other option would be that he was suffering from a condition similar to Patulous Eustachian Tube (PET). This is a degenerative condition, where the Eustachian Tube (a small bone near the guttural pouch of the horse) expands over time. As it expands, it can begin to press against the brain stem, putting pressure on it, which would lead to neurological issues, and eventually death. Only 60 horses in the United States have had the disease in the past 50 years.

However, the diagnosis for PET would be a necropsy... something that my trainer didn't want to have to pay for, and something that the vet didn't think was necessary.

This diagnosis changed once again, however. Now the current diagnosis would be EPM, or Equine Protazoal Myeloencephalitis. This disease is caused by eating opossum poop that came from an opossum infected with the protozoa Sarcocystis neurona.

The parasite enters the horse's body, then settles along on its spine. Depending on where the protazoa settle, the symptoms can vary - they can be as mild as a stumble every now and again to more serious symptoms like Riggs'.

For him, it was most likely for the best that he passed away before he had the chance to suffer long. The last time I saw him, he could only turn in circles to the left, he was suffering from Neck Wry, with his neck bent to the left. His muzzle was twisted to the right, and when he walked, it was extremely unstable. Had he been able to recover, he would have never been able to jump, probably wouldn't have been able to even trot again.

The parasite panel came back negative for the protozoa. However, EPM is most likely the cause of his death. There are two different types of protozoa that cause EPM - one is what the panel tests for, and the other is simply ignored, seeing as it isn't as common.

I miss him every day. Even though I ride a new horse now and love him to bits, he's not the same as Riggs. No horse is ever going to be able to fill the Riggs-shaped hole in my heart.

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