I wanted to create a video story, but I was barely able to write the post…
Farewell to Destiny: A Journey of Love, Loss and Unanswered Questions
A Winter Battle with COPD
We didn’t know if Destiny would survive the winter when he developed COPD and suddenly lost a lot of weight in December 2024. Most horses are immediately euthanized when they develop a respiratory problem like this because it limits their ability to be ridden. However, we decided to keep him around and quickly found a supplement that stopped the coughing, stopped the wheezing, and allowed him to regain some of the weight.
The Barn Divider: A Blessing and a Concern
We were thankful that we had already put the divider in the barn in October 2023. This allowed us to separate the horses when needed. We had debated whether to cover the water trough opening to prevent accidents but ultimately decided against it to avoid the risk of injury while drinking. Despite Destiny being confined for hours at a time to eat extra hay and grain, there was never an issue—until March 1st, 2025.
A Morning That Changed Everything
I went out to feed in the morning, as usual. Destiny was on the opposite side of the divider, drinking water. I placed the hay in the feeder and left the barn, but I hadn’t gotten far when I heard a couple of crashes. Curious, I turned around to see what was happening.
I found Destiny with his head on the floor, wedged against a beam, and half of his body inside the water trough. I could hear him breathing.
A Race Against Time
I sprinted to the house for help. Grabbing my phone and a lead rope, I told Bob—who had been lounging in his PJs, expecting an easy weekend—that Destiny was stuck, and we needed to remove the divider. I raced back to the barn and snapped a quick picture before threading the lead rope around Destiny’s neck, attempting to pull his head free.
Bob arrived just in time. I was thankful he was home because I couldn’t move Destiny on my own.
We gave Destiny a moment to rest before encouraging him to get up. He tried but fell again, gasping for breath. I ran back to the house for my inhaler, essential oils, and a halter.
Back at the barn, I used my rescue inhaler to ease my breathing while Bob held the essential oils under Destiny’s nose to slow his breathing. It worked.
Freeing Destiny
We unfastened the divider and moved it out of the way, but the post was encased in ice and wouldn’t budge. Bob bent the post as much as possible to give Destiny more room. Then, we dumped him out of the water trough.
We pushed and pulled, trying to help him up. At one point, the breakaway strap on the halter snapped, sending Bob backward into the divider. He was bruised but okay.
I ran back for another halter, my “carrot stick” (a training tool), and pain medicine for Destiny. He happily took the medicine. Not long after, he managed to stand, immediately relieved himself, and then promptly fell again. Thankfully, it didn’t take much to get him back up.
Once he was moving, I could tell he was extremely sore. His recovery was going to take a long time. We dried him off as much as possible, and he resumed eating and drinking. All seemed well—sort of.
The Next 48 Hours
Bob and I finished removing the divider and posts (using the truck and a chain to pull them out). Destiny moved on his own throughout the day, and I checked on him frequently.
By Sunday morning, Destiny could move but struggled to turn right. His right hind leg wasn’t moving straight. More concerning, his sheath was swollen, and I hadn’t seen him urinate. Though I knew I could have missed it, I worried. He also had diarrhea, which is common after trauma.
I told Bob I feared we might have to euthanize him after all, but as long as he could move on his own, we wanted to give him every chance. Throughout the day, he continued eating, drinking, and moving, so we decided to wait and reassess on Monday.
The Final Morning
Monday morning, after Bob left for work, I went to check on Destiny. He was lying on the barn floor and unable to get up.
I returned to the house and called the vet to come euthanize him. I texted Bob, who immediately came home for the rest of the day.
Bob and I sat with Destiny, waiting for the vet. I anointed him with essential oils and prayed that he wouldn’t suffer long. Destiny fought to stand several times, but his hind leg wouldn’t support him.
Less than two hours later, he was gone.
Saying Goodbye
Bob canceled the vet, helped me back to the house, supported me through my breakdown, ensured I used my rescue inhaler, ensured I applied some essential oils to ground me, and arranged for an excavator to bury another beloved horse.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this would happen.
We have replayed the situation over and over—going through the “what ifs,” “if onlys,” and “should haves.” There are no clear answers. There’s no way to know if doing something differently would have changed the outcome. But I do know that we made the best decisions we could in the moment. I am grateful we could be there with him during his final hours.
Destiny was two months shy of 20 years old. He had been part of our family for seven years. He quickly became my emotional support animal and played a vital role in helping me regain my riding confidence.
We miss him terribly but will remember him with love for the rest of our lives.