Beloved patrol horse remembered
Dmitry Sheynin / Acting Associate News Editor
Issue date: 2/19/08 Section: In Focus
"I guess it's just one of his gifts," she said. "Kids could come running mach speed toward him or come walking up with all assortments of crutches and wheelchairs and he doesn't care. That's something you can't really teach a horse … a love of people."
Csatari said he was an extremely gentle animal - that his calm personality was the single most defining trait to his character.
She thought it was probably the reason why the severity of an injury he endured remained unknown for so long.
Jennie Zambito, a community service officer with the mounted patrol, said Skylar probably slashed his Achilles tendon the Monday after Thanksgiving.
"He let you push on it, and touch it and clean it out and he didn't even move away," she said, "[but] looking at it, it was almost like a rope and then where it was cut, you could see all the frayed ends."
The Cook College junior said she was trying to remain optimistic, but having studied equine science, she knew the extent of the damage.
Skylar was sent to Mid-Atlantic Equine Medical Center about a week after his injury and Zambito told RUMP members he'd probably be gone for a while - advising them to say goodbye, just in case.
Csatari bolted to his stall with apples, carrots and an assortment of sweets and told him not to worry about getting fat.
She sat down with the horse and explained what was going on, wiping away tears with a towel.
She said she told the horse exactly what was going to happen to him, where he was going now and how great he had been for the group, as if she were talking to an old friend.
The members of RUMP were still positive about the situation then. But of the 15 people who came to visit Skylar that day, most would never see him again.
"We regret a more positive outcome was not feasible for Skylar," read a letter from veterinarian Patty Doyle-Jones in Ringoes, N.J. "The decision for euthanasia was a difficult one."
Zambito said she was a wreck the night she found out, but eventually, she realized it was the humane thing to do. Even if operated on, Skylar's injury was too severe for him to be put out to pasture without eventually causing significant pain.
Csatari said she was heartbroken but eventually came to the same realization as Zambito.
"We did the best thing in his interest," she said. "In life, he was so happy, so energetic, and I think he should have left this life happy, energetic, instead of diminishing in pain."
Skylar's stall is empty now - a black and purple drape hangs there in reverence of a fallen police officer.
His best friend, Martin, still looks for him sometimes, sniffing frantically around his pal's former dwelling.
"They don't really comprehend like we do," Zambito said. "But they definitely miss [Skylar] and wonder sometimes."
Csatari said he was an extremely gentle animal - that his calm personality was the single most defining trait to his character.
She thought it was probably the reason why the severity of an injury he endured remained unknown for so long.
Jennie Zambito, a community service officer with the mounted patrol, said Skylar probably slashed his Achilles tendon the Monday after Thanksgiving.
"He let you push on it, and touch it and clean it out and he didn't even move away," she said, "[but] looking at it, it was almost like a rope and then where it was cut, you could see all the frayed ends."
The Cook College junior said she was trying to remain optimistic, but having studied equine science, she knew the extent of the damage.
Skylar was sent to Mid-Atlantic Equine Medical Center about a week after his injury and Zambito told RUMP members he'd probably be gone for a while - advising them to say goodbye, just in case.
Csatari bolted to his stall with apples, carrots and an assortment of sweets and told him not to worry about getting fat.
She sat down with the horse and explained what was going on, wiping away tears with a towel.
She said she told the horse exactly what was going to happen to him, where he was going now and how great he had been for the group, as if she were talking to an old friend.
The members of RUMP were still positive about the situation then. But of the 15 people who came to visit Skylar that day, most would never see him again.
"We regret a more positive outcome was not feasible for Skylar," read a letter from veterinarian Patty Doyle-Jones in Ringoes, N.J. "The decision for euthanasia was a difficult one."
Zambito said she was a wreck the night she found out, but eventually, she realized it was the humane thing to do. Even if operated on, Skylar's injury was too severe for him to be put out to pasture without eventually causing significant pain.
Csatari said she was heartbroken but eventually came to the same realization as Zambito.
"We did the best thing in his interest," she said. "In life, he was so happy, so energetic, and I think he should have left this life happy, energetic, instead of diminishing in pain."
Skylar's stall is empty now - a black and purple drape hangs there in reverence of a fallen police officer.
His best friend, Martin, still looks for him sometimes, sniffing frantically around his pal's former dwelling.
"They don't really comprehend like we do," Zambito said. "But they definitely miss [Skylar] and wonder sometimes."