Prologue
The onset of Spring is probably the nicest time of year in our part of Florida. The nights are still cool, temperatures descending into the forties, the mornings warm up quickly with the daily highs getting up to eighty. The days are brilliantly sunny with little rain. The two-year-old sales are starting to appear and the training centers in and around Ocala teem with young prospects readying either for the track or the sales. Elf and Juno are going to the track together now and are very businesslike about their morning gallops. Their first two-minute-lick is tentatively scheduled for April 12th and, if all goes well, one or both should ship to Calder by the first of May, with Wilson to follow a month later.
The Kanapaha Botanical Gardens annual Spring Garden Festival, Gainesville’s yearly coming-out party, is next weekend (March 26 & 27) . This is Siobhan’s favorite day of the year, so she has been preparing the yard accordingly. For those of you in Gainesville and Ocala, our two largest followings, if you’ve never participated, give it a morning of your time even if you’re not a gardener. The atmosphere is jubilant and optimistic, the colors are invigorating and you always seem to meet someone you haven’t seen in years.
Watch That Radiation!
Not to make light of other people’s problems, but I went in to the pharmacy the other day to pick up a prescription and there was an old guy in there buying $240 worth of iodine pills.
“What’s that all about?” I asked Paul, the clerk.
“He’s worried about radiation poisoning,” said Paul.
“From Japan?”
“From Japan.”
“You know, Paul….”
“Yep, I know. Even if the radiation magically traversed the Pacific and the 3000 miles across the continent, the miserly amount that could reach us wouldn’t affect anybody. And even then, it takes a long time to actually kill somebody. And that guy is about 85. He needs to worry about something else getting him, like yaws or errant driving.”
“But no matter. You’re here to sell pills.”
“And we don’t discriminate. We sell to sensible people and disturbing idiots alike. That’s the American Way.”
Indeed, it is.
The Story of Zip
Once upon a time, there was a neophyte horse farmer named Billy, who went to a thoroughbred sale and bought two mares to start his enterprise. The significance of these mares turned out to be small, but he then bought a third, an old mare named Cosme, she being by Cosmic Bomb. Cosme only had one foal for Bill, a filly by the speed sire Night Invader, and he named her Deadly Nightshade.
When she went to the track, Deadly Nightshade was not among the best horses of her year, but she might have been the most determined. Invariably, she was closing in the stretch and if she didn’t win, she was close. When she did win, it was rarely by more than a length. As she climbed the claiming ladder, competing at increasingly higher levels, her races remained the same, Deadly Nightshade always competitive, always closing in the stretch.
You can teach horses a lot of things, but courage is not one of them. It’s either bred into a horse or it’s not. Deadly Nightshade wanted to win and was afraid of nothing. Eventually, we took her home to breed. The first year, we happened upon a terrific deal in Kentucky—an opportunity to breed at a nominal price to Proud Appeal, a horse who, at one time, looked like a strong Kentucky Derby contender until it became obvious he couldn’t get the 1 ¼ mile distance. The result of the breeding was a muscular chestnut filly I named Clockwork Orange.
Clockwork Orange was as fast as they come. When she worked, she was ten lengths ahead of her competition soon after they opened the gate. Tony Everard, who trained her at Another Episode Farm, said I could name my price for her, but I kept her, of course, and she soon got a knee chip that put her out of action after a couple of wins. I looked for a stallion with exceptional conformation to breed her to—particularly one with perfect knees—and settled on a Mr. Prospector-line horse named Regal Search. From this breeding came a filly named Orange Orchid.
At the track, Orange Orchid did not start off with a bang. Her first two races were not memorable, perhaps owing to the fact she had sustained a minor—but compromising—injury. We sent her to a grumpy, opinionated curmudgeon named Bud Mills, who had once been a prominent jockey and now leased a farm in Ocala. Bud had heart problems and was growing a little infirm but he would offer to fight a professional wrestler at the hint of a disagreement and he had a lot of experience with race horses to draw on. He loved Orange Orchid and he would tell anybody who would listen that she was great. Fine and dandy, but eventually you would have to prove it.
In her first race for Bud, a $5000 claimer at Tampa, Orange Orchid came from off the pace as a huge underdog to nose out the competition in a sparkling time of 1:15 for six furlongs. And despite the slow time, she was a tired Orange Orchid. Nonetheless, you would think Bud had won the Preakness. She was fit now, he said, and promised there would be hell to pay for the competition next time. And he was right. Moved up to $7500, she won easily, by 4 ½, and in much better time. The march up the claiming ladder continued and Orange Orchid kept winning, even when Tampa closed and Bud had to haul her the 300 miles to Calder for her races.
One day, we went over to Ocala Jai-Alai to watch her in a simulcast from Miami and discovered she was scratched. This was in pre-cell phone days and Bud was not much of a communicator to begin with. He called us when he got home and told us he scratched because he was sure someone was going to claim her for the $20,000 she was in for. He didn’t ask us or anything, Orange Orchid was his horse. Or did anybody want to fight him?
R.I.P. Bud
Bud’s heart gave out one morning while he was cleaning stalls. He knew it might happen, but wasn’t about to change his ways. His only way out was heart replacement and he didn’t have the money for that, nor was he of Medicare age. So Orange Orchid moved on from her beloved Bud to Jimmy Hatchett at Calder. Despite moving all the way up to allowance level, she ran ten straight races in which she finished first or second, including an allowance at always-difficult Gulfstream. Then one day, back in the barn after a race, she collapsed and couldn’t be roused. Eventually, Jimmy’s right-hand man, Larry Pilotti, all six-foot-three, 340 pounds of him, got her standing and leaned on her against the stall wall to keep her up while she was treated. Amazingly, she did not die. By the time she was transported home, however, she had become blind. We sent her to Tiger Lake Farm, near Lake Weir, where she could get round-the-clock care and eventually swim a little. A couple of weeks later, Steve, the owner, called and told us to come out. Her vision had returned.
We put Orange Orchid back in training (somewhat fretfully) and she regained her health and brightness. When returned to the racetrack, however, she wasn’t the same. Whether it was a mental issue—trepidation to extend herself after her previous experience—or simply some incomprehensible reversal of form, she ran a couple of thirds and fourths and we retired her.
Siobhan, a big fan of the Valid Appeal sire line, struck a bargain deal to breed her to Successful Appeal for $5000. The latter became so successful so quickly that he was soon moved to Kentucky, where he initially stood for $40,000 and still stands for $25,000. The result of this breeding was Zip.
Hurricane Zip
Zip was born on April 27, 2004. Foals, once they reach about ten days old, are generally very healthy and don’t present a lot of problems. The same with most weanlings. Zip, though, coliced on December 15 and got cast in his stall, which means he was lying on his side with his legs jammed against one of the walls, unable to get up. This is a dangerous situation for rescuers, as the rear legs of horses, even weanlings, are like coiled springs, and if they catch you as you try to free the horse, you are going to feel it. Zip kicked me right in the head, knocking me across the stall, where my head also grazed a water bucket. I was dazed and thought my head was bleeding, but Siobhan assured me it was only the water. Somehow, I was okay, but Zip clearly was not, throwing himself on the ground again. We called our friend, Tom Godley, who hurried over with a trailer and we got him to the Peterson & Smith Clinic a little after 10 p.m. Zip’s problem was exotic and disturbing.
The nephrosplenic ligament is a short ligament joining the spleen to the left kidney. Occasionally, the large intestine migrates between the spleen and the body wall and becomes caught over the nephrosplenic ligament. Larger breeds are at greater risk for this condition than smaller horses.
Constriction of the large intestine as it passes over the nephrosplenic ligament causes obstruction of the intestine. In most cases, this is a simple obstruction and there is no damage to blood supply of the gut, but, on rare occasions, the obstruction is strangulating. Unfortunately, this was one of those rare occasions.
The treatment for this condition has altered over the past fifteen years. Once, it was considered that surgical management was necessary in most cases to correct the displacement. Experience has shown that many cases, however, will resolve spontaneously, given time. Certain medical treatments and light exercise under veterinary supervision can also be useful. But in spite of medical treatment, some cases of nephrosplenic entrapment require surgical correction, and this was one of them. The underlying cause of this type of large intestinal colic is unknown.
Dr. Timothy Lynch performed Zip’s surgery, about a three-hour proposition. The entrapment was relieved, but other problems are endemic to intestinal surgery. For one thing, the intestines lock up for awhile and nothing can pass through, causing a buildup of fluid and disintegrating food particles in the gut, resulting in much pain for the horse. To relieve the pain, a tube is passed through the nose of the horse down into the stomach, water is inserted to create a vacuum, and the material in the stomach is drawn out through the tube. This is called reflux, and they performed the act about every hour. Siobhan could not bear to watch her doomed little horse suffer a night of this misery with a very doubtful prognosis, so she crawled into her car and tearfully drove home. I tried to sleep there in my car, but sleep wasn’t an option. I kept going back to the barn, looking for signs of hope, of which there were none. Every hour, on the hour, the reflux crew came back to perform their tedious chore on the poor, miserable weanling, who, I noticed, would experience relief for about 45 minutes and then become painful again. I’m no doctor, but I figured why wait until the pain returned to start the reflux; come back and get started in 45 minutes. The doctor in charge agreed and we moved to the new schedule. Less painful, Zip seemed to perk up a tiny bit….or was I just imagining it?
I called Siobhan at home to offer a morsel of hope. In her sad little teary voice, she sobbed “I have no hope,” a heartbreaking response if ever there was one. Nonetheless, Zip began to improve after each treatment. By morning, it was apparent he was better, if not great. Siobhan, a glass-half-empty person, was not going to be lulled into optimism and then trap-doored when the next calamity arose. As the days passed, however, Zip made a nice comeback and was allowed to go home after a week. He had to remain in a stall, though, and eat very small feed portions. Mary Margaret, Siobhan’s mini-mule, was drafted to babysit. Forlorn after the departure of her beloved Precisionist, she was delighted to be assigned this weighty new responsibility. One factor sat heavily on this happy recovery, however. The surgeon said that horses who experienced this problem often repeated it.
The Devil Returns
On February 14th, Valentine’s Day of all times, the demon struck again. Back we went to Peterson & Smith, another surgery by Dr. Lynch. The problem expands from merely freeing the nephrosplenic ligament to surgery on a horse who has just had surgery. Not to mention developing a hernia with the previous surgery. It becomes more difficult to sew the horse back up. This time they used wire sutures.
Zip returned home again and rejoined Mary Margaret. He did well for a few months and Siobhan bought him his very own pony. Every time he laid down, we jumped up to make sure it wasn’t a colic. Everybody was scared to death. Now, surgery was less of an option. Eventually, he went back to Peterson and Smith and they removed the wire sutures. Dr. Lynch said that the chances for a repeat performance of the problem decreased as Zip grew. Not so fast, my friend.
On July 20, 2005, Zip coliced again. This time, with surgery problematic, they tried “rolling” him under anesthesia. Which means hanging him by his back feet and letting the ligament fall back into place. Right. Like this silly adventure is going to work. Well, it did. Back home he went. I told Siobhan it was only a matter of time until the same thing reoccurred and if we didn’t do something different Zip was going to die. Most of our medical friends and associates were aware of the problem, but suggestions were not forthcoming. Then, we got a note from Sharon Witonsky at Virginia Tech. She sent along an article about a surgeon in Brussels performing laparoscopic surgery on six draft horses that had the same problem. All recovered. This was a definite Aha! Moment. There was renewed hope in Mudville….the mighty Zip had not yet struck out.
The Empire Strikes Back
We figured the guy in Brussels wasn’t coming over to perform our surgery (though, in retrospect, who knows?) so I got a list together of possible candidates. The leading clinic in the country for horse-related issues is New Bolton Center in Pennsylvania. There are also two preeminent clinics in Lexington, Kentucky, home of some of the world’s most expensive horseflesh. I started with these. While nobody south of Belgium had performed this operation, Dr, Dwayne Rodgerson of the Hagyard, Davidson, McGee Clinic in Lexington had written a book on laparoscopic surgery. When I called him, he told me he had read of the work in Brussels and he was sure he could perform the same surgery. Originally, Zip was scheduled to travel to Kentucky, but Siobhan inquired as to the cost of having Dr. Rodgerson come to Gainesville. As it turned out, he had spent some time teaching there in previous years and said he would look forward to visiting old friends, not to mention performing groundbreaking surgery. His charge would be a mere $1500. The University of Florida would get $500 for use of the facilities and some of their veterinary students would get the opportunity to observe and participate in The Big Show. All we needed now was for Zip to last until the surgery date.
There was quite a crowd gathered for Dr. Rodgerson’s gala premiere. He had pre-shipped his implements of destruction and all was in readiness. Zip made his entrance like the movie star he was and the show began. Dr. Rodgerson began by commenting that the nephrosplenic ligament was on the verge of another entrapment, so our timing was fortuitous.
In the procedure, one arm of the suture material is cut at the needle, effectively making a 120-cm strand of suture material. A loop is tied at the end of the suture material and the needle introduced into the large diameter cannula. The needle is advanced to the rostral-most portion of the spleen possible. This rostral-most extent is generally limited by the length of the needle holders. The needle is first placed through the peritoneum surrounding the kidney and the capsule of the spleen, then through the loop that was previously tied. The suture is then pulled tight to begin the closure. As many suture bites as needed are used to close the entire nephrosplenic space. An extracorporeal knot is used to finish the suture line.
See. It’s simple. Anybody could do it.
Marching To Pretoria
We put Zip into training as soon as he recovered from surgery. I guess we hoped the activity would somehow improve his chances. Besides, it was Fall and time to start the yearlings on their long trek to the racetrack. We were concerned that he had spent so much time confined to a stall and so little running around pastures. Would this compromise his ability to run? Who knew? But Zip made steady progress and eventually was sent to Larry Pilotti at Calder. His early works were sterling and we started him in maiden special weights company on December 16th. He finished a strong second. Next time out, on December 30th, he won by 7 ½ lengths, falling short of the track record for 5 ½ furlongs by a mere second and confounding everybody who told us he would never make it to the track. Our great plans were muted several days later when ultrasound detected a tendon injury requiring a year’s layoff. We tried to bring him back, but the tendon wasn’t up to it. The nephrosplenic ligament problem never again reared its ugly head, however, and Zip now lives in a paddock next to Juggernaut at our place in Fairfield, where he delights in screaming his head off just for the hell of it in the middle of the night. And we’re glad to hear him.
Meanwhile, the last Orange Orchid daughter we still own, Cosmic Light, mother of Cosmic Song and Juno, is due to foal on March 30. Hopefully, the courage and speed of Deadly Nightshade, passed down through Clockwork Orange and Orange Orchid, will eventually emerge in the newborn, whose mother somehow won a race on a broken knee. On and on it goes in the Circle Game.
That’s all, folks.
