It has been almost three months since Skylar was euthanized, but Jennifer Csatari still refers to the horse in present tense at times.
For two years, the nearly half-ton stallion was her partner in the Rutgers University Mounted Patrol, the last student-run mounted patrol program in the country.
When she recounts happy memories of her absent companion and describes his singular presence, the vibrancy in her demeanor suggests she has come to terms with the loss. And even as a tear-traced smile betrays her otherwise cheerful composure, the tone of her voice remains lighthearted and animated.
"It was surreal," she said of Skylar's death. "This horse to us is like a human being."
Csatari, a Mason Gross School of the Arts junior and community service officer, was not alone in mourning.
Through a lifetime of public service, Skylar touched the lives of countless others, and when he died, many people grieved for many different reasons.
Before coming to the University, he served the Camden Police Department, patrolling for 10 years with the mounted unit that had been established there in the early '90s.
Even by human standards, Skylar's career in law enforcement was dangerous. He was used for crowd control in one of the most violent cities in the country.
As he neared middle age, the Cleveland Bay crossbreed was donated to Cook College in 2004, so he could remain active after being retired from duty.
"He's just not the type of horse where you could easily retire him to pasture," Csatari said. "These animals that are trained this way, like seeing-eye dogs, they do this for life. There's no true retirement."
Former RUMP patrol supervisor, Marina McCoy, a Cook College alumna, facilitated Skylar's arrival to the University.
Her mother, a member of the Camden law enforcement community, found out about the horse through a colleague.
"Police horses are trained for weeks at a time to get them used to working in large crowds and to noises," she said in 2004. "He was an excellent match for our needs."
Getting him to Cook campus was not a simple matter.
The mounted patrol, which has a distinguished 35-year history, was in danger of dying out when the University terminated its funding in 2002. Until becoming part of the Rutgers Community Service Officers program later that year, RUMP was funded primarily through the donated paychecks of its members.
When the Camden Police Department donated Skylar in 2004, his police training helped re-establish the mounted patrol as an indispensible law enforcement tool at the University.
"You get to know the community better on horseback because the community comes to you," Csatari said when describing reactions from motorists. "They're fascinated by you … we have to hit the crosswalk button, so we have to be able to bend down really low. People are looking at you in their cars [thinking] 'There's a horse leaning across the road.'"
That September, when he made his debut patrolling Rutgers Stadium Skylar himself became indispensible to the school.
The horse's steady work with the RUMP made him a common sight around campus, but his work outside the University would soon make him the most famous horse in New Brunswick.
Each Halloween, Cook College sponsors Monster Mash for children who live in areas where it's unsafe to trick-or-treat. Accompanied by Csatari, Skylar attended in 2006 wearing a misguided Gryffindor costume.
"It made us so happy," she said. "This giant chicken-horse … he had feather boas wrapped around his neck, he had wings, a big yellow beak on his nose … these kids don't have an opportunity to see animals, let alone a horse."
She added that one of her favorite events with him was a function in spring 2007 called Special Friends Day, where the theme had been "superheroes" and he was dressed in a red cape adorned with a polygonal "S" emblem.
Though Skylar had never been trained to work with mental or physical handicaps, he knew enough to bend down for a child with cerebral palsy who wanted to pet his head.
"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."
