Life Smacks You In The Face. Horses Reduce The Swelling Afterwards.

If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible.  - Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

This week has been a rare treat at the real job (and by “treat”, I mean, a quite unexpected awfulness I didn’t see coming).  Every office has its crappy days, but it’s a special occasion when it stands out among a decade.  (I love my job, I love my job, I love my job, I…)

Betrayal, rage, pain, all the fun parts!  I am quite careful & quite diligent at drawing a firm line between my professional life & my personal one, but this monstrosity shoved right through that wall at exactly the wrong time, which naturally just multiplies the offense.  Something tells me I wouldn’t be off base in guessing you’ve been there…

Chocolate helps, but one “normal” person can really only have one expensive hobby at a time.  Which boils down to why we all have chosen to torture surround ourselves with large, suicidal, frustrating, money-burning, unpredictable, mesmerizing, magical, & altogether wonderful horses at every opportunity.  In fact, I find myself wondering if I can substantially increase my tax write-offs by adding “equine-assisted therapy” as a line item.

One of my resident greys

Requirement:  Resident Therapists

The smallest things can save you a drive to the loony bin.  That husky nicker alongside a face that says to you, “Hooray!  You are the bestest sight & I’ve been waiting all day just for you!”


Stomp-whisk-nom slows your breathing in time with horses deterring flies while relishing supper.

Watching the crystalline well-water fill the trough as a hidden broad-winged hawk scolds an uninvited guest somewhere in the oak trees, I can finally feel everything else fade away.  As the grey tree frogs launch their daily chorus, all that's left behind is a very welcome relief.

Could Actual Riding Actually Occur??

Oddly, almost surreally, it is a breathtakingly gorgeous evening:  August in North Carolina has a long tradition of sweating through four shirts a day, as well as fascinating discoveries, such as the fact that you CAN actually sweat underwater.  I guess the memo has gotten lost because my pastures are exploding with green & the air is…pleasant??!

The best part?  Solo digs eagerly in to his favourite spots in the top pasture, which has been resting for a couple weeks.  I carefully pick through Encore’s feet with Durasole, ichthammol, and ThrushBuster, only to find his LF closing up & his RF comfy, and FOUR SHOES ON FOUR FEET (*cough* we may or may not have seen our farrier twice in five days last week *cough*).

Don't be jealous!

How can I help but smile as I buckle the nylon girth of our fabulously stylish bareback pad (bony chick + TB withers = I am not ashamed of my eBay memory foam!!)?  Encore seems to agree: every bridling usually includes a patient pause while I wait for him to unclamp his silly teeth.  Today, though, I lifted the bit to an already-open mouth.  I guess we both got bored!

Yes, you read that right:  bareback pad.  You know, since he’s a “crazy” OTTB and all, after five weeks off, things get very dramatic when I hop on from the trailer fender and we…walk around for a while.  :D 

Getting The Kinks Out

The ride itself was nothing fancy; I mostly just used the terrain for walk work.  Both his front feet still have a week or two of growing to do before I am ready to put them back in full service.

So we wandered around the farm & I even had the gall (says my horse) to pick up the contact & school some lateral work, combined with stretching over his topline (I know, animal cruelty at its worst).  Encore grudgingly accepted once I explained it was simple physical therapy to soften all those tight muscles which have been standing around compensating for sore feets.  I did manage to restrain my “I told you so" once his back stretched, lifted & began to swing as he unlocked his hind legs & loosened into the bridle.
    
Savouring The Now

Every evening, my pond turns into molten gold when the fading light hits just the right angle.  Flycatchers & a common yellowthroat warbled across the pastures, a perfect counterpoint to the steady four-beat swoosh of hooves through tall grass.

After being grounded for more days than I can count, feeling my horse’s strong confidence beneath me, knowing we both relished the jailbreak, being in each moment & letting it all soak in – well, I don’t need to explain to you how precious those times are!

After I shut the gate, releasing Encore to enjoy fresh grass with his little big brother, I lingered there, watching my happy horses just doing what they do.  Something in that fills you up, as if you were the trough you just tended.  Even if there was old water in it already, you shove the hose to the bottom and the fresh, clean flow revitalizes the supply & pushes the stale, cloudy water out.  You are restored, at least in part, and for today, that is enough. 

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The Agony & The Ecstasy: An Update (Mostly On The Former)

*insert standard blogger excuse about life, jobs, shoving your horse's legs in buckets of ice at midnight, perfecting your hoof wrapping techniques, blah blah blah, whatever, no posts for you*

There, that's out of the way.

To say it's been a roller coaster would be a vast understatement.  This morning, however, was the anxiously-awaited give vast sums of money to Dr. Bob fall shots/check my horses' various & sundry issues gala. 

HorseS??  You wonder quite correctly.  Solo, not to be outdone by his big little brother, has been quite sore in his large shoulder muscles for the past 6-8 weeks.  Erica & I have been massaging & stretching & staring quizzically (ok, that's my speciality), so I was relieved I could finally just throw him at Dr. Bob and let the magic hands find the answers.

Go home, horses, you're drunk.  Oh, wait, you are home...

Sore Solo

Aside from getting to be punch drunk on 1/3 a can of PBR (aka sedation lightweight, he's a cheap date) while his teeth floated away, he was quickly pronounced footsore on both fronts.  Lots of small bruises in his hooves have him compensating with those enormous shoulders & parking out a little to distribute his weight across his feet.

*now insert mom feels bad*

Oddly enough, I was relieved at this answer.  Instead of some new shoulder injury (which I greatly feared he might have come up with during The Pasture Games), instead we just confirmed that genetics are genetics & Mr. Shiny still has wussy feet.  I had been using  his front boots when we ride out, but on the farm or in an arena, he's just been going barefoot.

I had not seen a big change in his movement until the past two weeks though.  Dr. Bob once again fit the pieces together for me:  wet weather brings out raging growth in crabgrass, which is apparently quite delicious.  My pastures are mixed forage (this makes me happy, different species offer different things and do well at different times of year) & certainly have their share of this treat.  However, it is very high in starches when wet, which makes wussy feet even more sensitive.  Given the past ten days of monsoon season...lightbulb!

The Star Pupil

Encore has kept me hopping (& also made me an expert at monitoring a digital pulse, which my farrier FINALLY was able to show me...it's a lot easier to find when it's pounding).  :-(  Three emergency line calls & four vet visits in a month, well, I could have done without.  But things are healing, in fortunate cooperation with me reaching the dregs of my vetwrap stockpile!

Encore's RFhandiwork, 16 July

Not quite so gory, 2 Aug

You'll recall his rather spectacular self-resection of his RF hoof on July 16.  He so enjoyed all the extra attention that he decided to go dead lame on his LF foot after his most recent shoeing.

Actually at actual midnight.  :/

Whee.

Wonder-farrier ran back to the farm the next day & pulled three nails to relieve pressure on what turned out to be the same bruise we poked at in late June.  It was just wandering around in poor Encore's foot because he simply refuses to abscess things out (heaven forbid we appear normal!).

I'll skip over his attempts to kill me by heart failure, timing pulses, hoarding ice, stocking bulk supplies of Epsom salts, & practicing duct tape sculpture by headlamp.  Including last night's wail of despair as he came limping in for dinner, sans LF shoe (to be fair, it held on valiantly for having only one inside nail).

Because today...(1) I got permission to stop wrapping the RF, as Dr. Bob deemed it hard enough to just take an occasional dab of ichthammol & carry on, and (2) The Man took his determined hoof knife to Encore's LF front sole and in a few expert slices, exposed the furtive gypsy bruise at last!!!

You know you have been a horse owner long enough when you are HAPPY to see pus and blood seeping out of your horse's foot...

Ok, I admit, I majorly science-geek-out on this picture

Of course he did.

Which Leaves Us...?

Hopefully over the hump of this particular mountain!  Encore's shoe has just been tacked back on, so I can save my duct tape while his bruise heals.  Of course the idiot managed to step on himself while sedated (don't take him out for drinks, he gets the high gravity version) and cut a chunk out of his hind pastern.  *I'd headdesk but I broke the desk from over-use*  At least it's just a flesh wound!  As long as he is not sore, I can (omg, don't breathe a word) ride him in a few days.

Solo will go back to work in his snazzy boots after a little rest and we'll all feel a bit better after some painkillers!

Now, would someone mind pouring me a shot of very expensive tequila?

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