January 30, 2007--Enough Was Enough

Over coffee this morning much of the talk was about Barbaro. Some of it was about equine physiology and why horses, when they break a leg, are normally “put down.” Seth said it has something to do with the way horses’ circulatory systems work—unless they can stand on all four feet and keep in motion their circulation doesn’t work well enough for them to survive.
But most of the talk was considerably more emotional, even a tear or two appeared to have been shed—not by Seth I hasten to add.

Even the front page article in the NY Times about Barbaro’s “battle” was ladened with more emotion and medical detail than one finds when, say, an Art Buchwald loses a battle with something incurable. The Times reports that--

In recent weeks, Barbaro’s ailments had become overwhelming: complications with his left hind leg lingered, an abscess in his right hind heel was discovered last week and, finally, a new case of the painful and often fatal condition called laminitis developed in both front feet. [Article linked below.]

And so he was euthanized. The veterinarian said, "Enough was enough."

I’m not a horseman, I don’t really follow horse racing, and only occasionally do some trail riding. And yet, I too was emotionally gripped by Barbaro’s struggle to beat the odds and live on. Some of the tears that welled this morning were mine.

So, when walking to the office, Rona and I attempted to understand why we and so many others were so deeply affected. After all, to put it indelicately, we’re talking about a horse—not a friend of family loved one.

Harvey Araton, a sports columnist for the Times wrote today—

Maybe Barbaro, as the fallen champion, was reminiscent of a country that was seriously wounded on 9/11 and has been wobbly ever since. Maybe the horse’s medical roller coaster struck a chord at a time when a great American city, ravaged by nature and neglect, still can’t stand up. Maybe only in such context can we rationalize such widespread passion for the health of a horse that has exceeded that for any single American soldier killed or wounded in Iraq.

Could be, but I recall other examples of popular horses “breaking down” in public view and needing to be euthanized—how hard, impossible it is to say “killed.” There was a popular and charismatic filly, whose name I’ve forgotten, who broke a leg some years ago at Aqueduct and had to be . . . , which elicited a great outpouring of feeling that bordered on grief and mourning.

Horses are not pets, they are not anthropomorphically warm and cuddly and friendly like dogs and cats; it’s even hard to discern in them anything resembling “personality.” So beyond thinking about how Barbaro might represent a ravaged American city that “still can’t stand up,” what has been moving us so?

Horses are archetypal animals—for millennia they have been essential to the birth of civilizations and man’s ability to engage in warfare. In this country, without horses there would have been no exploration of the West as we know it—no cowboys and Indians. And on another level, there is something almost metaphysical about “girls and horses.”

Then perhaps, our reaction to Barbaro may also have to do with the strength and force of beauty which is simultaneously so fleeting, so fragile, so mutable. Just like life itself.