Goodbye, Big D.

Goodbye, Big D.

Delegate It • 2001–2024

 

 We said goodbye to Big D, registered as Delegate It, this afternoon. At 23, he was supposed to have more time. He was thriving just weeks ago, featured on the news, enjoying attention and food, his weight back up, his eyes bright.

 

But something shifted.

 

On Saturday, he showed signs of choke. We acted quickly, but there was no blockage. He spent the night at the vet, where we were told it could be a tumor, muscle loss, or just his body telling us it was near the end. Still, he came home with pain meds, antibiotics, and a plan—because we weren’t ready to give up, and he hadn’t given up either.

 

We tried everything to tempt him to eat: mashes, soaked pellets, sweet feed, molasses water, chopped hay. He nibbled but never truly rallied. He remained calm, alert, drinking well—but growing weaker each day.

 

The clearest moment came when we let him wander during chores this morning, hoping he’d graze. Instead, he went straight to Benny—his best friend. They stood at the fence, nuzzling, resting heads together, and when Benny finally walked away, Big D slowly followed us back to the barn, exhausted. That moment felt like goodbye.

 

We scheduled his final vet visit, still hoping for a miracle. But Big D made the decision for us. Less than an hour later, as we prepped to take him in, our Beagle puppy barked his warning. We found Big D down, already leaving. He passed with love in his ears and arms around him, hearing over and over what a good, good boy he was.

 

He was only with us for a few months, but he made a huge impact. A gentle giant of a Thoroughbred, with a soft eye and a puppy-dog personality, Big D was the kind of horse that made people stop and fall in love. He had a quiet strength, a kind soul, and a way of making everyone feel safe. Dozens of you loved him from afar, and many met him here and felt that connection instantly.

 

23 is a good age for an off-the-track Thoroughbred. But when your barn is full of horses in their 30s, it feels far too soon. There are still more questions than answers. He never had a fever. He didn’t act sick. He just… slowed down. And then, he left.

We’re heartbroken. But more than anything, we’re grateful we got to know him—even for a little while.

 

Run free, Big D. Benny will miss you. So will we.