Speaking of dead horses -
My grandfather had one horse when he built his orchard from remote scrub during the Great Depression. The horse was very obstinate - often when required to cart fruit off to the market it would not move. On some occasions no incentives worked - kicking, whipping, he even lit a fire between its legs once - had to put the fire out.
Finally when the horse became elderly and quite distressed, my grandfather decided to put it out of its misery.
After tethering the horse to a fence, he spend hours digging a deep hole, deep enough to keep the wild dogs from digging it up.
Pulling out the shotgun, with a heavy heart he shot the horse -unfortunately even in death the horse had the last say. It fell the wrong way.