Читать книгу Genesis... - Welby Thomas Cox Jr. - Страница 8

My phone rang at 10:15 p.m., moments after my head had hit the pillow. This is not unusual in my line of work, but still not particularly welcome. On this particular evening, Nov. 13, 1990, I had just completed a shift in my church kitchen where I’d received a new appreciation for those folks who make their living operating a commercial dishwasher. On the phone was a panicked Kathy Jones, sister of Calumet Farm president J.T. Lundy. In short-word bursts I heard, “Alydar has broken his leg. Come to the farm quick.”

I was not the adjuster for Calumet claims at that time, having had a falling out with J.T. Lundy years earlier over another claim. Kathy had changed to another adjuster, which was her privilege, so I was surprised to hear from her about Alydar. I asked no questions, dressed, and immediately went to the farm. A staff member met me at the big, red-painted iron gates protecting the farm, and I drove past members of the news media who were already gathering at the front entrance.

During those next few days the only reporter that J.T. would talk to was Kenny Rice.

Arriving at the stallion barn located in the same building as the farm office, I found a small crowd, and you could literally feel the tension of everyone there. In the bookWild RideI was described as going in with tape recorder in hand and “marching into the scene.” Actually, I did not have a recorder with me that night, but this is one of only a few errors made by the author, Ann Hagedorn Auerbach. Her book is, without question, the most complete piece written about Alydar and the demise of Calumet Farm.

After making a mental note of those present, the first thing I noticed was a large piece of red metal laying in the middle of the pristine red floor of the stallion barn. To no one in particular I asked,

“What in the hell is that?” Someone, and I never learned who, said, “Oh, that is where he kicked the stall door.” Lundy was there along with Jones; several farm people; Dr. William Baker; and farm resident vet Dr. Linda Rhodes.

When the subject of euthanasia came up, J.T. Lundy told Dr.

Baker, “But this is Alydar; we have to do something.”

The stall door was open and the 15-year-old stallion Alydar was standing with his rear to the door. He was being held by Alton Stone, the night watchman. The horse was obviously favoring his right hind leg, unable to place weight on that foot. Only a slight amount of blood was visible on the straw. Dr. Baker described the injury as a very serious fracture of the cannon bone, which was beginning to protrude from the skin. The cannon bone can be compared to the shin bone on a person, and Alydar’s was now becoming a compound fracture. Under ordinary circumstances, the vet would have probably already called for euthanasia due to possible lack of blood circulation and early infection.

Lundy appeared to be in shock. He had an anxious look on his face and paced restlessly around the barn, mumbling to himself as though this could not be happening. When the subject of euthanasia came up, he told Dr. Baker, “But this is Alydar; we have to do something.” Lundy then put in a phone call to Dr. Larry Bramlage, with Dr. Baker and I concurring. I could only hear one side of the telephone conversation, but it was obvious that Dr. Bramlage wasn’t offering much hope after listening to both Dr. Baker and Lundy. He did, however, agree to come to the farm and examine the horse.

Dr. Bramlage, a world-renowned surgeon from Rood & Riddle Equine Hospital, arrived very shortly thereafter at about 11:00 p.m., less than an hour after I had first gotten the word. He confirmed the horse had a mid-shaft transverse (crossways) fracture of the cannon bone in the right hind leg. The possibility of surgery was first thought to be hopeless. There was some talk about the possibility of a prosthesis, but this was quickly ruled out. After some discussion among the three vets it was decided to medicate the horse heavily for the night and then make an evaluation the next morning. A simple splint was made and covered with a temporary fiberglass cast. At that point Alydar laid down and for the remainder of the night his head was literally held by Dr. Rhodes and Sandy Hatfield, the farm’s broodmare manager. The pain-killing medication was to be stopped at 4:30 a.m. and everyone was to meet back at the farm at seven the next morning.

At the time of the injury there was great debate in the media and the public as to just exactly how the injury had occurred. Both vets who first arrived at the scene described the injury occurring as a result of Alydar’s “kicking the stall door.” Dr. Bramlage provided a two-page, single-spaced letter describing his efforts to save the horse and offering no dispute as to how the injury had occurred. Visual observation and numerous photographs described Alydar as kicking the bottom portion of his stall door, breaking off a metal rail guide for the sliding door. This allowed the door frame itself to protrude outwards, and while kicking the door Alydar’s right hind foot had become entangled. He was able to free the foot but in doing so apparently fell forward, and in an attempt to catch his fall twisted the cannon bone in his right hind leg. This was disputed in a much later court hearing.