SERAFINA
Welcomed to the Sanctuary — December 2018
Across the Rainbow Bridge — August 2026
“Fifi”
When the Sanctuary was introduced to this beautiful bay thoroughbred mare, her life was in danger. She had been enjoying a nice life as a private riding horse, following a lackluster racing career as the registered Thoroughbred ‘Dad’s Spitfire’. Foaled in 2009, a New York-bred great-granddaughter of Seattle Slew, she raced over 29 times but only earned $14K. Retired sound, she seemed to have settled in and things were coasting along, until there was an accident requiring extended stall time and a quiet horse, which she was not. Instead of a quick and easy heal, the wound ripped over and over again. The family could not sustain treatment, and facing the possibility of letting her go, she was surrendered to Rosemary Farm, to try to save her.
With many more months of painful recovery and restriction Serafina healed enough to live, but it left her with trauma. Fi required an open access shelter, no stalling or restriction, and one chosen friend. While it may be difficult to understand, this is what the mare stated, and within these parameters, she was calm and happy for 7+ years, most recently enjoying time with either Cinder or Skye.
Then in June 2026, she came off the field with a serious fetlock injury. It was just one of those things, likely from a fence kick. We knew it was bad, but she was doing so well here, we decided to try to nurse her to health. This was going to be asking a lot of a horse with some serious prior trauma, but she had regained so much of her sanity, and was building bonds here… well, we tried. For seven weeks we tried. There is a lot to say about what worked and what did not, but we reached the end of our ability to help her, and she was released from her earthly body.
These are always difficult decisions, despite knowing how hard we tried for her, but we chose a good day, and Serafina was calm, at home, with friends nearby, ending in peace. That is the last gift we could to offer her. I am told that at one point this elegant, deep bay mare was a calm nice riding horse, but we didn’t have the opportunity to see that side of her. We did see sanity, intermixed with glimpses of trauma, a sensitive creature not entirely understanding her world, or events decided for her. And she did the best she could to be a kind horse back. She would stand perfectly still for her bandage change every other day for nearly two months, and we grew close.
We will miss you, Fi.