When it comes to this little horse, any shred of logic I've ever had disappears.

So I've been really busy this week. 

My tiny mare came up lame last weekend.  She walked past me Saturday evening totally normal, got a drink at the trough, and came back with her right hind sort of... dangling.  She's had her hind legs wrapped up good and tight since then.  

And she's walking on it.  Trotting and loping too, actually.  

The thing about Copper is that she's been a strange combo of fragile and resilient her whole life.  And we are stupefyingly in love with her.  She's so cute.  Look at her up there.  Everything about her is short and compact.  We joke that she's got a big head compared to the rest of her, but that big head is little compared to any other horse.  I buy stuff for her in the pony section which suits me fine, cuz I buy my clothes in the kid section sometimes.  

The kid section?  She belongs to my kids.  This summer we've had to finally admit that they have both grown out of her.  We knew it would happen.  So what?  She stays.  I'm not outgrowing her.  She's got a home for life. If I'm the only person who ever gets on her back from now on, that's fine.  

I decided years ago I'd probably not use her in lessons, partly because she is ridiculously sensitive and responsive.  I can stop her without touching the reins, just a shift of my weight and a quiet "whoa."  She moves from a walk to a jog and back again the same way, just with me shifting my seat.  Having an inexperienced rider would frazzle her.  She kind of spoiled my kids, having learned to ride with her, because they can't get why every horse isn't like that.  I'm not saying she's easy to ride; you have to be on top of every cue or she gets confused.  She's so eager to please she almost turns herself inside out to get it right for you.  But it's not work to ride her.  

I'd also not use her for lessons because she's had problems with That Leg before. 

I mentioned fragile and resilient.  

She's had all kinds of crap to deal with.  As a weanling, the other two foals in the herd only let her up to the feeder for leftovers.  Last year I figured out that her new bitchy snappy behaviour was due to a stomach ulcer.  She got a nail in her hoof a couple years ago and before that had to have stitches in her forehead.  (See why I'm paranoid about sharp things???)  And before that, when she was a yearling, soon after she arrived at the Ol Homestead here, she had a broken leg. 

Yep.  Right hind.  

We fixed her up the best we could.  Our vet couldn't promise anything.  We knew that... and decided to keep her anyways.  She healed up quite well, and I went ahead and saddle broke her when she was three, always keeping an eye on That Leg. She didn't take a wrong step, although her back end has always been a little... swishy.  I don't know how else to describe it.  She would probably have a little swagger anyways but it seems like her stride is just a tiny bit shorter on one side.  But then, I admit that I am looking for it.  Always looking for it.

We have enjoyed nine years with her.  She taught my kids to ride, which I would never recommend - young green horse plus little kids?  Nooooo! - but under my watchful eye they all thrived together.  

For nine years, it never left my mind that she could possibly end up really, terribly lame again.  I was always looking for that limp. Time bomb.

All the crap this horse had dealt with, and she just goes with it.  She still wants her forehead rubbed. She's always happy to see us.

When Dr Rob the Vet came to look at her on Tuesday, after I'd been wrapping her for a few days, I opted not to do the $200 Xray.  What difference does it make if it's cracked or sprained?  The treatment is the same:  wrap her legs, keep her still as possible, mild exercise, a little bute for painkiller, some mineral ice gel to help with the swelling... and no promises.     

I lived over an hour away the first time she was damaged, and had two small kids, and couldn't do much to care for her.  Copper got put on stall rest and got walked twice a day, usually by my dad.  Dr Glen the Vet was amazed at how this little yearling filly walked at the end of the lead rope with her head level, well behaved after being in her stall all day.  I wasn't there: no bandages and no fussing.  Now, at the age of ten, I don't know if she'll heal as well as she did then.  I'm cautiously optimistic.  

Part of our decision all those years ago to give her a chance, was that we would NEVER sell her.  I mean, you could tell a buyer that she has a healed injury and should not be worked hard - no jumping, no barrel racing - and after she appeared sound, it might be, oh heck, she's fine, let's take her to the rodeo, and then a few months or weeks or years later she's ruined and suffering.  It didn't matter because the kids wouldn't consider selling her in any case.  But, we also had to think about... the end.  I told the kids she might not live to be an old horse.  If she is suffering and I can't help her, we have to make The Hard Decision.  

I don't wanna talk about that right now.  Like I said, cautiously optimistic. 

Look at the muscles on this little fart.  

If she hadn't been injured, I think she would have been one hell of a competition horse.  She is blindingly fast, and can turn on a dime.  Just plant one hind hoof and pivot.  (Hmmm.  Wonder how she hurt herself this time?)

I've been putting her in a stall overnight, with the top of the barn door open so she can get lots of fresh air and see the other two, who are in the corral overnight.  During the day, they go in the pasture and she stays in the corral.  They have to be in her sight or she'll go berserk.  She can't function unless she knows where they are.  She'd hurt herself worse if she's left to spin and fret in her stall, worrying about the other two.  

This way she can see them, without them pushing her around, and also get some exercise as she walks in the corral.  

I make no money with this horse.  I can't afford to spend a whole lot on these horses at all but it's especially hard to justify for the little pet here.  I don't care.  For the cost of a few bags of shavings to bed her stall, I'll stable her at night for stall rest.  It doesn't cost anything but time to wrap those legs until I see the limp go away.  Maybe it's a stupid priority to keep feeding her when she's not the most useful horse in the herd, when I've got debts to pay and a truck that needs work, a husband who needs to go to the dentist and kids who need to go to college some day.  I don't know... My farmer's daughter practicality tells me it's foolish.  My foolish heart tells me I can't let her down.  She deserves to be taken care of.  

...those blinky eyes and brown ears, and that soft pink muzzle... 

Oh hell, what's a few hundred bucks a year for a couple hoof trims, a few squirts of dewormer and a  rabies shot?  

She's priceless.

Ouchie

Warning: this post contains blood.

Phoenix, my Appaloosa gelding, got hurt just before Christmas.  I hate when one of my critters gets hurt, but this was even worse because I was sick and had to go out there and clean him up and wait for the vet to come out and stitch him up.  I think I might have figured out what cut him.  A piece of eavestrough fell off the north side of the barn, and I didn't notice.  We pulled it out yesterday but I don't know if it's got a sharp enough edge that could have done the damage.  My daughter looked around for blood on the snow, the scene of the accident, but there wasn't anything in that spot.  Well, let's face it, a horse can run pretty damn fast...

There's good news though.  The wound is deep but it didn't harm any tendons!  By next week Rob the Vet will have to scalpel off some granulation (proud flesh) but the edges have healed together, and the swelling has gone down.

For the first two weeks we were wrapping both his hind legs.  You know how when you sprain your left ankle, your right knee takes the abuse?  That.  Jethro and I took the kids outta-town for a few days, and Rob the Vet came out to change the bandage and wrap Phoenix's legs again.  I love my vets.  And I was so thankful for that horse's good natured attitude.  Most horses would see the Vet coming and think, "Uh oh.  It's Medicine Smell Guy" and decide to be totally uncatchable.

Oh my gosh he's been so cool about it.  I had to twitch his lip two days ago when Dr Rob took the stitches out, but otherwise, he just stands there with his hoof lifted.  Tolerating.  Last week Annyong stood beside his shoulder and petted him while I wrapped up his leg... and we hadn't put a halter on him. He just stood there for us in the stall.

I love this horse.

This is going to cost me an arm and a leg and an ear.  I've got at least one more vet visit.  I'll have to buy more gauze rolls and padding.  (Good thing I got Vetrap for my birthday eh?)  It might take a few months to pay off that vet bill... but I'll do it for Phoenix.  I want this wound to heal correctly, to keep him sound and moving freely, and not look like he's damaged.  He's the horse I put beginners and little kids on, because he just plods along and never scares anybody.  He's so chill and friendly, and darn it, he's the cuddliest horse I've had since my second pony - I put my arms around his neck and he leans his jaw on my back!  He hugs back!

He deserves the best care I can give him!

Now just to give you an idea of what I'm up against: in this photo you can see the blood running down the inside of his hoof.  The cut is right above that (fetlock area) and it's not really easily accessible.  Notice his other leg and his tail.  In order to get a close look at the wound, I'm basically putting my face right where he could knock me out if he lifted his leg suddenly.

Yikes.  I know I shouldn't trust him so much (I truly don't trust any of them 100%).  He just makes it so easy.  Well, you'll also notice the gauze squares in the shavings... truth is, he jiggled around some.  Can't blame him.

So that's what I've been up to so far this year.  I still intend to blog about Last Year In Entertainment, even though we're almost a week into the new year.  Hey man, I lost a whole week there, what with the skin-crawly-sick-ache flu, plus the amateur horse doctor thing. Keeps me busy and keeps me out of trouble, I guess.

Nothing but what matters. (Merry Christmas.)

I've had to eliminate the very concept of stress from my life this year.  I've had no other choice.

We're not big spenders in this family to start with.  Maybe it's a Mennonite thing, maybe it's from decades of not really having enough cash to cover everything, but we just seem to be pretty content with what we get.  It's a good feeling, actually.

This year more than ever I let it go, figuring it'd be more meaningful if everybody has a little surprise to unwrap while knowing there wasn't a whole pile of anxiety around it.

Besides, at 16 and 14, my younguns know they won't be getting what they truly want.  Annyong wants a big honking digital single lens reflex camera.  Bucky wants, well, apparently he wants night vision goggles and like, adamantium and unobtanium and other stuff he'd probably get arrested for having, but really he wants a car.  So they're realistic.  They won't be getting that stuff for Christmas.  They're okay with that.

I spent a couple hours on the 17th picking up a few things.  That was it.  Then on Monday, I got sick.  Yep, while hosting my fun little imaginary birthday party for my 40th, I was under six blankets, drinking honey and lemon tea, rubbing my burning forehead, trying desperately to get comfortable despite that full body ache.

Any plans I made in terms of shopping, cleaning, visiting, teaching lessons, anything, all evaporated.  I have spent the last few days shivering and aching under my blankets, surrounded by kleenex and hand sanitizer,  not giving a crap about too much of anything.

Except.  My kids were also sick.  So I cared very much about that.

Also, my horse was bleeding.  He got cut up pretty bad (hind leg, just above the fetlock, luckily not on a tendon) and I'm quite upset about that.  Well it just wouldn't be Christmas without an emergency vet visit, am I right?  Geez.  It's very hard to deal with an injured horse while suffering with prickly skin and a headache and a sore throat.  But Phoenix is such a gentleman.  He allowed all the needles and sedation and stitches.  He stands still while I clumsily change his bandages.  I cherish him.

We got medicine too and are on the mend.  The germs didn't infect the whole household.  I'm cautiously optimistic.  Jethro spent the week in the city, so he's clear.  Right now he and the kids are off on a shopping adventure.  If I know him, our Christmas stockings will be stuffed with little 1L bottles of 10W30 motor oil and ice scrapers, and other things dudes pick up at the gas station on the 24th of December.

I'm cool with that.  Can always use more windshield washer fluid.

So, honestly, yes I'm still stressed, it's just that I'm refusing to worry or fret over anything non-essential.  I really don't have the energy to fret.  Right now, the house smells like Mom's awesome cooking, the tree lights are lit, and the horses are having their mid-afternoon barn wall meditation time.  And I'll drag my butt to church tonight for Christmas Eve service.

And tomorrow, I'll be another year older.  And it's all okay because we all made it this far.  We're together.  We have good food to eat.  We're allowed to worship as we choose.  We may not be totally healthy but we're alive.

Peace, people.

Enjoy it.

I have uncovered the breeding grounds of the SCRAP TIRES!

They are extremely sneaky creatures, but my eradication mission is surging forward with great success.


Here we observe five magnificent adult tires in a resting position.  More accurately, four decent specimens and one gnarly individual which the others appear to be protecting.

On closer inspection, they are all well past their prime.  There will be no mercy shown them when I cull this herd!!  (The lone tire on the ground is actually a domesticated tire which is used as a bumper guard on the tractor.  Best if you don't ask, or second guess my counting skills.)

Once the tires have been removed from their rims, they will be loaded into my truck and shipped off to the place where junk tires go.  TO DIE.

Where do they all come from?  This is the question I'm regularly asked.  Even the guys at the disposal, the guys who know my dog on a first name basis, have asked me where all these tires come from.  Well there is really only one explanation, one which until last week was merely a theory and has now been proven.

They find their way into the long grass and MULTIPLY!  It's the only explanation that makes sense.  To keep the tire numbers down, the males and females would have to be carefully separated.

Clearly, for the past five or twenty years or so, the males and females have not been carefully separated at the Old Homestead.

The problem, however, is that the genders are incredibly difficult to tell apart.

Mike the Vet brought over a load of hay for us on the weekend.  (It's gotta be good hay if I buy it from the vet, right?)  As it turns out, Mike the Vet has had a small problem with pickup trucks breeding behind his barn.  But that's another story, another zoomophological expedition, another blog post.

Anyways.  We asked Mike the Vet how best to tell the males from the females, in order to keep the population down.  It doesn't really matter, since I fully intend to ERADICATE THE ENTIRE HERD but I was curious.

"Oh it's simple," he said.  "The females have a big hole in the middle."








I suspect Mike the Vet could be yankin' my chain here.


Tire reproduction appears to be a mystery.  I am working on a new theory that paired tires are not even necessary to create new ones.  Maybe it takes multiples of two, as pictured, which suggests that tires are not very choosy and do not mate for life.  I generally lean towards my first theory: tires do that asexual or whatever it is thing, like worms.

I'm pretty sure I'm right about this.  One tire left under a tree can sprout into three tires in less than a year.


My ol' man made a discovery in the bottom of the yard the other day.  He was weedwhacking, because I do NOT do any weedwhacking, what with it being loud, and with my hatred for the exhaust from stupid little engines. As he was trimming the long grass, he came across a nest of small tires!

Ha!  We've got them now!  Totally unfazed by their small size and diminutive cuteness, we moved them to a location more easily accessible by pickup truck.  

They will be taken off to the disposal yard before they mature and have a chance to spawn more!!

Don't look at me like that - it's not cruel.  They are not an endangered species.  At least not around here.

But they will be soon, as I continue on with my quest to make the Old Homestead into an Tire-Free zone.  After this, any strays will have to move on to a Wild Tire Sanctuary if they know what's good for them.

THIS WEEK IN HICK LIFE

I added "amateur cat vet" to my list of things I don't get paid to do

Moe is doing great!  He's always happy to see us when we check on him and he's trying to stand.  He's shaky and not putting any weight on the injured leg but it's a start.  The wound is closing but still uuuugly.  I am amazed at his tolerance and resilience.  This cat has the happiest attitude ever... and a heck of a will to live!

My kid turned 16

Still absorbing this... gimme another week ok?

Most of the farmers did the first cut of hay

Dude, it's MAY.  Way early.  But who cares man, this means it smells like hay everywhere and I looove that!

It was really hot this week. I sweated a lot.  Went through three changes of clothes in a day.

How unpleasant.  Here, have a nice picture of Johnny Depp to clear your mind.  He looks cooool.  Ignore the gun under his arm.  Maybe he's just happy to see us.

My horses got their tetanus shots this week.

And then the next day I got mine.  When I say I feel their pain, I mean it.  But they don't have to steer with their necks so I get to win the pity party.

Only went to the dump once this week.

And I came home with a nasty trucker tan on my left arm. This was before the tetanus shot, back when I could freely hang my arm out the window while zooming down the road with the ol' 60mph air-conditioning going, if you know what I mean.

American Idol is done, and so is Grumpy Uncle Simon, but Paula Abdul was back! to say all kinds of sweet things.

Awww.  She looked like a pink cupcake as her magical unicorn dust swirled through the air.  Actually I didn't see any of it, because...

I dragged my bestest friend to an author reading.

She is such a good sport, because she didn't know this author at all.  It was a great excuse for us to both get out in the evening, plus we both have a couple of anxiety issues, and we can face our fears together!!!  Also she didn't laugh at me for being completely starstruck to meet Guy Gavriel Kay.  

Afterwards we sat outside with her man and daughter and five bouncy little dogs.  OMG Biddie is like Sharon Osbourne with the little dogs!  I just thought of that now!  

It's nice to be living closer to her.  We still don't get to see each other much but it's better than before.  

There's this show called LOST which I decided after the first two episodes not to commit to because I didn't have enough time.

In January the kids and I gave in.  We figured it didn't matter if we didn't know what was going on because those who watched consistently didn't know either, it seemed.  We taped the finale so we could watch it together.  We're only halfway through.  See?

I found the nicest, most level place to put that pool we promised we'd get when we moved out to the country.

It's away from the road, not to close to trees that will fill the pool with leaves, and flat enough ground to avoid doing any grading.  Problems: can't shell out the $ for that inflatable pool right now (see above with the horses and cats and vets); not sure if we can run electrical for pool pump down there in the yard; not sure if solar powered pumps are available or if we can afford it; and we have this little technicality...

THIS is currently taking up pool space.  Anybody want a nice 80s vintage plow truck?  It's a 4x4!!!

FRUSTRATION! And relief... And, how am I gonna do all this???

When I let the horses out into the pasture this morning at 7:30, the Little Lady was limping.  

Not good.  This is what we've all been worried about for years.  Maybe you don't know this, but that left hind leg has always been a source of concern, because when she was a yearling, it was broken.  BROKEN.  We forked out the money back then to that leg x-rayed , and sure enough, it was cracked.  By then we'd ALL completely fallen for this tiny cute sweet big-eyed blinky baby.  The crack was right down into the fetlock joint and was getting ready to be a future arthritis problem.  

Nothing could be done but stall rest, and 10 minutes twice each day of hand-walking.  Glenn the vet couldn't make any promises about her condition.  He told us he could never tell us that she'd be sound, even if she appeared to be fine.  We might end up with a really cute lawn ornament.  A much loved little lawn ornament.

So, we did it.  Or I should say, my parents did it, because I lived too far away.  The entire family had a decision to make: if we put the time into this little horse, we make a commitment to keeping her for her lifetime.  No strenuous riding, no barrel racing, no jumping, no breeding.  Watch her weight, and be prepared to get into an arthritis management program at some point in her life.  Never sell her, because we couldn't trust anyone else to get it, and give her the care she needs.  Above all, know that when she is in pain, and we can't make her comfortable anymore, we put her out of her misery.  Scary, eh?  

She healed up.  A year later, she was a new horse.  She was muscular and fit. She didn't limp.  Glenn the vet was impressed.  You could say he was amazed.

Occasionally over the years, she'd look a little stiff if the weather took a cold turn.  Heck, so do I.  She always got over it.  We marveled regularly at how great she's doing, how awesome she is, and how glad we are that we put the work into saving her.

Then this morning, she's all limpy.  

They came into the corral after lunch and she was not putting any weight on it.  At all.  She was walking on three legs and dragging the fourth.  

I dropped everything, left my mother to do the work we'd planned together, and wrapped up the Little Lady's hind legs.  I put both horses in the barn to keep Phoenix from moving her around.  The horses both looked at me like I was nuts, because it's the middle of the afternoon, and this isn't when they get their grain, and can they please go back out?  The barn cats had those cool faces like, "So where's our kibble at?"  

We got in the car and dashed off to get the kids from school.  I was thinking about the stuff I wasn't getting done in the house, and thinking about a horse who will not be used for lessons now, and that maybe this is my wake up call.  Maybe she'll be okay but I can't push her too hard.  Maybe it's my fault for riding her almost every day for over two weeks.  Then I got into the What Ifs and that was too awful to say out loud. 

Back home again, I wrapped her legs with some cold lotion.  Then they blasted out to the pasture like their tails were on fire, and guess what?  SHE CAN RUN ON THREE LEGS.  Forehead slap.

I called the vet and left a message.

After supper I talked to Cindy the vet.  She said she'd come out in the morning, and told me to check the cold lotion jar, to see if it's allowed to stay on overnight.  She told to pick out her hooves real good.  If she's got a stone in there or something, it could affect the weight bearing and then irritate that old injury.

I was feeling a little frazzled by this time, and relieved that Mom happened to have the day off work, and she did the cooking today.  If I'd been alone, we'd be eating crackers and cheese for dinner.  Keeping horses in the barn overnight is a lot more labour intensive than keeping them in the corral for the night.  I threw down a couple hay bales, topped up the water buckets, and brought the horses in.  Fed the cats too, not that they needed it, judging by the pile of feathers in the aisle.

I undid the mare's legs and checked for swelling.  All okay.  I got out the nasty old polo bandages and wrapped her up again, making sure I got under the fetlock for support.  

I was putting stuff away in the tack room when I remembered Cindy's point about the hoof pick.  I wrestled Copper's leg up again - she was losing her good natured co-operation by this time - and dug the hoof pick into the cleft.  It stopped.  It stuck on something.  

Uh oh.

I felt around with my fingers and found...

A NAIL HEAD.  

I PULLED A HALF INCH LONG NAIL OUT OF HER HOOF.

Felt a little dizzy, folks.  It was right up in there, vertically.  

I'm so fanatical about picking up every nail and bit of junk that works its way to the surface of this old barnyard.  And yet.  

So, I got some iodine to squirt on the underside of her hoof, and a square or gauze with some duct tape to stick it on, and made a funny lookin' little booty around her hoof to keep the dirt out until morning when the vet gets here.  

I'm thinking now, maybe she's not permanently arthritic.  Yet.  Maybe it's not the old leg injury acting up - I mean, you'd limp too if you had a NAIL IN YOUR HOOF, right?  

Okay, so it's not so terribly horribly bad, other than the poor girl having a RUSTY PIECE OF METAL IN HER.  Which I pulled out and disinfected and wrapped and holy crap how long does a tetanus shot last???

Poor sweet little mare... she always gets it.  Cut her forehead in June, has to have baby-bum-cream on her little pink muzzle to avoid sunburn, got mudcrack this summer and had the have yellow goop on her pastern to get rid of the scabs, has super sensitive skin and hates being brushed when she's in heat, and also HAD A BROKEN LEG WHEN SHE WAS A BABY.  

I am really, really tired, folks.  I have to do all that laundry I didn't do this afternoon when I was wrapping legs.  Have to go to bed.  My hair is frizzy with humidity and sweat and that bath I had this morning has been totally negated.

How am I going to do this - take care of two horses, make a living with them, when I haven't even gotten my coaching insurance stitched up and therefore haven't gotten any solid gigs out here yet, and still be there for my kids, maintain a long-distance relationship with my husband (I don't recommend this by the way) and feed people, take my dog for a run outside along the hay field, clean the cat's litter box, sweep floors, write novels (which I am taking a break from this month, geez) and like, be me, and sleep?  And have a bath at least once a week?  

I mean, people do this, right?  People who DON'T live with Mom?  

At least I might have a bus stop for the kids, so I only have to drive 5 minutes instead of a half hour to get them to school.

I can do this, right?

I hope my little mare is feeling better in the morning.  When I left her, she was munching  hay like she always hangs in the barn with her legs wrapped up and one hoof encased in duct tape.  It's cool, baby.  Totally normal.  Leave the barn door open, eh?  The breeze is nice...

OUCH: The Hick Chic Guide to Calling the Vet on a Lovely Sunday Evening...

Sigh.

When you are responsible for keeping horses in captivity, you simply CANNOT BE TOO CAREFUL.

The day after my victorious Instructor's Exam, we visited the farm for Tribble's belated birthday pizza.  While my mom was in town picking up the goodies, I gathered up the horses for a quick ride.  I tied the Little Lady to the barn while I hopped on Phoenix for a bareback-hackamore trip around the corral.  When I came back ten minutes later, the mare had managed to slice open her forehead on some sneaky sharp object sticking out of the barn wall.  

Needless to say, I feel like a very bad horse owner.  I know from experience that every winter, the barn boards shift and nails often work their way loose.  I usually go around with the hammer and pound in anything I find.  I didn't do it this year.  And now look at this.  She's in pain, and it's going to cost me a good chunk of money to get her healed up.  There's no option; an injury like this is way beyond what I'm trained for, or willing to work on.  She didn't want me anywhere near it though, so I didn't realize at first how bad it was. I reached for my First Aid kit and quickly dusted it with a coagulant to try and dry up the bleeding until I could get a better look at it.  

After supper I went out to check on her, and what I saw was not good.  The cut was bleeding because of its location. Every time she swiveled her ear, which for a horse is constantly, the cut would open and close.  By this time it had been about an hour since the injury and I could see how deep it was.  I called the vet.  

I'm going to admit here that I hesitated to call... an after-hours vet call is really expensive.  Horses don't plan around vet hours.  At least she had me there to take care of it, rather than leaving my Dad to make any decisions. I agonized over spending potentially hundreds of dollars I don't have, and called anyways.  I'll find the money somewhere.  I'll dig up some riding students.  I'll sell something.  She's worth it.

When Glen got there, I had both horses tied at the barn wall.  This is after I'd sent Bucky out there with my hammer and said, "Find anything sharp, get mad at it for possibly cutting up your beloved little horse, and pound the crap out of it, until it's embedded permanently in the barn wall."  Let's just say there are a lot of hammer dents in the wood now.

I told Glen I wanted to skip the fartin' around and just sedate her right away to avoid as much trauma as possible.  He said it's the only way he does things now.  He went up and gave her a friendly pat on the neck and stuck that needle in before she even felt it.

Soon she was drooping her head and twitching.  I untied her lead rope and held her head while Glen needled the wound to freeze it.  He got busy scrubbing the nasty cut.  I told my kids they didn't have to get right close and see it all, but I did encourage them to hang around and be aware of the process.  They're old enough.  (Tribble took the pictures when the whole thing was done.)

Bucky stood by playing with Phoenix's bottom lip and telling us he'd seen more gruesome stuff than this.

"Really?" I asked.  "You've really seen worse than this?  In real life?  Really?"

He thought about it.  Then shrugged.  "Nah.  I guess this is the worst."

Tribble chose to back off but Bucky was right in there as Glen cleaned and irrigated, then cut the jagged edges cleanly and stitched it closed with his curved needle and clamps.  I got my jar of "Swat" which repels flies and dabbed it on while she was still in a state of not giving a crap.

Just for prevention I put some under her eyes too.  She usually wears a fly mask but I doubt she'll want it on for the next week.  

Now I'll admit that I'm not only a bad horse owner for letting this happen, but I'm a bad person in general because... because... I think horses are... please don't hate me...  I think horses are funny when they're stoned.

But come on, wouldn't you?  The flappy lips, sideways ears?  The way they stand there with all four legs splayed out?  I mean, yes, it's pathetic, but it's also comical... I'm sorry, I really am.  I feel awful about it, especially considering why a horse ends up in this state, but geez man, if you've seen it, you know what I mean.  And now I feel really super awful about taking pics and posting them.  (It's honestly for the sake of a cautionary tale.  Don't let this happen to you!) 

I'll tell you what's really sad though:  some horses really are at their most manageable when they're like this.  Glen said he's worked on some horses whose owners quick go untangle manes or some other maintenance before the drug wears off.  I can't help but wonder why they even have that horse if they can't get close enough to it to take regular care of it.  

It takes about an hour to wear off.  As she started to snap out of it, I brushed her face with a soft brush to soothe her.  I just felt so sorry for the poor little thing.  She has the finest softest coat I've ever seen on a horse.  She can be scuffed and skinned so easily, but luckily she heals fast too.  
I kept on eye on her while she came back to life.  Phoenix stayed tied up so he wouldn't harass her.  I let her stay near the barn, slowly waking up.  

She had a clammy sweat under her fur so I threw a sheet over her until she was okay again.  Once she perked up a bit I offered her some water.  We still had to wait another hour to feed her, to avoid the chance of choking.  

Feeding has been a whole other thing, since her anti-biotic tablets have to be crushed and mixed with her feed, to trick her into eating them.  She knows, darnit, and she's a picky eater, so Mom and Dad have been trying everything to sneak her medication into her.  Strawberry jam, apples and brown sugar, Aunt Jemima pancake syrup; so far she prefers strawberry jam but ate the grain around the apple chunks.  She won't eat apples.  Strange.  We've got a few more ideas and I do hope she takes them and doesn't get any infection.  If I was there with her, I'd just jam a needle full of penicillin into her buttocks and call it a day. I've done it before, I could do it again if I had to.  Dad would rather not.  He's sort of retired from needle duty now that he's not a working farmer anymore.  Besides, she's tiny, but she's a heck of a lot bigger than a piglet.  

I really hated leaving that evening, but I know she's in the good, caring hands of my parents.  We've got good vets.  Glen was the guy who took her case when she was a scrawny yearling with a fractured hind leg.  I'll be making an appointment for him to remove the stitches in three weeks.   And, I'll be back for a few visits to see how she's doing, and slather more of that pink bug repellant on her speckled face.  Until then, I totally trust that she'll be well taken care of.  And that Phoenix will be partially pink from her rubbing her face on him.  

  

Oh, poor sad little horse!  Mom called to say she's acting normal and not shaking her head anymore, so we assume it doesn't hurt like it did. But I beg all of you horse owners out there: please go out and check your horse's home for sharp things!  It's a bit of work now that can save you a lot of pain and money later!  And if you horse does get hurt, and it's more than you can handle, call your vet.  I hope yours are as good as mine. 

Mystery Ailment

Since Saturday I've been puzzled by this pain that's travelling its way through my delicate fussy little body. So far my elbows, wrists, knees and achilles tendons have all been affected. I've been to two doctors and been told the standard idiot diagnosis: "It's a virus" which is MD speak for "I have no idea what the f*** is wrong with you."

Last night, 3 am, I woke up because the pain in my right knee was so bad. I took one of the Arthrotec pills I'd been prescribed. I hadn't taken one that morning since I felt better and don't like what these pills do to my stomache. I'd taken one at supper. The pain was so bad I was in a cold sweat.

Now, let's back track a little here. Things You May Or May Not Know About Me:

-I was a sickly kid. I wasn't the stereotypical healthy farm kid. To this day I'm not really sure what all my problems were, but I do know that I'm sensitive to chemicals and pollutants and that I must have had depression before I hit my teens.

-I'm not saying I'm tough, BUT last night I writhed in pain for three hours and that is more than two hours longer than the time spent in labour giving birth to my second child, who came out of me with racing stripes, in my own bed, with absolutely no drugs to aid the process whatsoever. It was so fast I didn't know if I'd live through it.

Just to put it into perspective.

I didn't go to the doctor today because I couldn't walk. Once Jethro headed off to the studio I was on my own. I'm serious, I couldn't put any weight on my leg and it hurt to move it.

Add to that, the state of my house. I am not a good housekeeper but this is ridiculous. I haven't recovered from the trip yet and now this. The kids are really learning to cook while being coached from the couch.

(Trip- if you don't know about it, like you're new here, scroll down. Also scroll down and read the discussion about edible substances from trees and guys who drive horse and buggy.)

I didn't start this blog to chronicle my aches and problems....I just find this very weird. I have no idea what's wrong with me. This so called virus is only controlled with arthritis pills????

It makes me feel like I should call Mike the Vet. He's never jerked me around!!

Funny Conversations After Church

So we were talking with Mike the Vet after church this morning. He's great. We were reminiscing about that time when the King sliced open his fetlock and Mike had to stitch up an artery and I was being his little assistant and fetching things for him. And how after he was done he ordered me to sit down on the tack box and put my head down. I protested. I felt fine. He said, "Siddown on that box and get your forehead on your knees." So I did, what the heck, and just as I sat down I groaned with the sudden wave of nausea that instantly hit. Because, you see, Mike knew.

Today he showed us this nasty cut on the thumb side of his hand. I mean nasty: the whole side of his hand was bruised. He'd been floating a horse's teeth, which basically means filing the sharp edges off. Long story short, the big scissor-like device, the gag, that holds the horse's mouth open for such a procedure, ended up closing on his hand.

Yeah. Ow.

Mike's gem of wisdom: "It was a very efficient reminder to make sure the horse is tranquilized before sticking my hand in his mouth." He is totally straight faced and matter-of-fact when he says this.

So then Mike says, "Yeah, I'm used to sticking my hand in the other end. Much safer. No teeth in there."


When we were all done laughing he added, "And if there are, you know there's something wrong."

I love going to church.



(I'm back to my hi-speed connection. I've added Hi-speed Internet to my official Farm Property Wish List. I've got lots to tell you, and pictures too. See ya sometime Monday afternoon.)