A horse and his girl

Though they are still working to get the blood thinner levels in the right place, Katie is doing so well I can barely believe it. I am beyond grateful, beyond relieved. Ecstatic may even be too mellow a word for what I feel, actually.

While I was taking pictures of Allie and Lena last night, Katie led Forrest down to the indoor to lunge him. I zoomed way in, knowing in the fading evening light it was an iffy shot.

On the road to healing with Forrest

It isn't perfect. It isn't crisp. It is my beautiful daughter walking with her horse and it makes me feel like things are on the right path back to wherever they need to be.

Hello reality

Every parents worst nightmare

I would just like to say that sometimes reality is, well, too real.

August has been a heck of a month--starting very first thing with the dog who attacked Steve and Kyle and ending up with my daughter in ICU thanks to a rude and unruly horse. (NOT one of ours!)

Thankfully, everyone is okay. Actually, the dog that attacked Kyle and Steve is a little too okay and was spotted off-leash again just last weekend. Really? Because I'm sure that dog will never again attack another dog because its owners are too damn lazy to hook a leash to its collar. People really annoy me.

And there may even be a horse or two that annoys me--one in particular comes to mind right now.

I wrote about some of the trials and tribulations of August for our horses and for Katie in this post on the Neigh Savers blog, but I did not write as a parent. I did not write about how terrifying it is to be able to do nothing but hope and pray for your child to heal, about wanting to trade places with her, please, just let her be okay.

Just over two weeks ago, Katie was at work leading a trail ride. The horse she was on took exception to her holding him back and reared, going over backwards. He started to step on her and she got out from under him but he nailed her in the left thigh as she stood up. She went to the ER that day and was discharged with some pain killers after a CT of her head showed no injury and x-rays of her pelvis and femur came back clean.

A few days later, though, all was not well. Her leg was swollen down to the ankle and so was her abdomen. We got her in to see a doctor and when they discovered a slight fever, we were sent for a CT of her abdomen and an ultrasound of her leg.

Lots of time spent in waiting rooms with a kid too big to hold and rock in my lap.

The ultrasound revealed a clot that went from knee to groin and we went directly to the ER. Apparently, Katie told the tech not to freak me out. It is a good thing I have learned to panic only when appropriate, though I really wanted sirens on the Miata. Lots of sirens. Get the heck out of my way sirens, as a matter of fact.

Through it all, Katie maintained a sense of humor and strength--even when faced with multiple IVs throughout the day followed by all her parents crammed in one tiny room in the ER. Tough chick.

Because the clot was so large, they were going to put a tube in that vein that would deliver blood thinners directly onto the clot and aspirate it at the same time. It was an awesome plan but it ran into a complication upon execution when they found a bleed in her abdomen. You can't very well introduce blood thinners when there is internal bleeding, nor can you stop a bleed with clotting medicines when you already have a clot.

They wheeled her up to ICU and started giving her blood, the first goal being to stabilize her and stop the bleeding so they could start the blood thinners. Her dad and I both offered to get hooked right up to her (I'm a perfect match) but apparently the blood bank is in good shape and they didn't need us. The doctor may have thought we were a little weird. He was probably right.

Katie spent six days in the hospital, half of it in ICU. She will be on blood thinners at least another three months, but has tentatively been cleared to ride (walk and trot only) in two weeks.

She is extremely lucky and she knows it. The bruise that extended down her entire thigh just last week is nearly invisible. She is young and healthy and doing a pretty good job of taking it easy and caring for herself.

The desire to pack her up in bubble wrap may fade in time, but only because I wouldn't want her to do it to me. And I know she's wanted to more than once.

Hello reality. Thank you for reminding me what's really important and what 's really fluff and nonsense.

Where Katie will be again--and hopefully soon

Surprises by the numbers

"Really? The lip sores post has the most pageviews? The lip sores post??" 1,231 to be exact. Next one down is Mother Daughter bonding over abscesses with 906. Apparently, I should write about horse injuries more often.

In helping get another blog set up, I stumbled upon the stats portion for my own blog. Yes, I know. I was in marketing and never looked at my own numbers? This blog has mostly been a labor of love for me, so if people read it and liked it, that was good. If they commented, that was even better. Stats were interesting but an after-thought until recently.

Some of the more current posts have been very well-received and I patted myself on the back for the 122 (and counting) pageviews for Katie and Forrest's post.

Who could have guessed that the sleeper post--from way back in 2007--was the lip sores post? Certainly not me.

Lena's healing lip sores, inflamed gums and discolored teeth--all healed when the bad hay went away

And by the way, it only comes up if you Google "lip sores" WITH the word "horses" not just "lip sores." No STDs here, just yellow bristle grass in a bad batch of hay 5 (1!) years ago, now.

Horses equal wound care

Horses can be like giant toddlers sometimes, always popping up with some new boo-boo that needs tending. This is Calabar's most recent. Do I know how he got it? No. There are see hoof prints right under the bottom rail of his pipe panel--you know, as if a front leg was positioned in such a way to help a nose get a little further through the fencing for a few extra bites of tasty grass.There are hoof prints but no sharp edges to scrape off skin, so the mystery remains and Calabar did not volunteer any explanation, reasonable or otherwise.

The leg was a little swollen, but he is sound on it and the swelling went down with a little work and cold water. Calabar denied injury, bounded around in the round pen as if nothing whatsoever had happened, actually. Of course, he also stood like an angel in the wash rack while we cold hosed it, so it probably was bothering him at least a little. He's a pretty good patient, though, so I was able to get  him cleaned up and slathered with antibiotic cream without any drama whatsoever.

At least it's not too bad and he should heal quickly. Just another day in the life of a horse owner, I guess.

MIA and now stuck in Las Vegas

Beyond the strip, there are lovely places to visit near Las Vegas

Steve and I have been at a trade how in Vegas since Tuesday so as well as being horse-deprived, I was completely ready to be home in just a few more hours now. Unfortunately, it will be a few more hours at least. Due to some poor planning on the part of Alaska/Horizon out of Santa Rosa, our flight has been cancelled. Seems like they could have told us this before we checked our bags, but I will rant more later.

While I'm waiting, I'll amuse myself by giving an update on the Thoroughbred Twitch situation.

Monday before we left, I got the boy out and did some acupressure on his shoulders and some massage on his neck before taking for a quick warm up in the round pen. He had a little heat in his left shoulder, but I went ahead and saddled him anyway, planning on some light work at the walk just to see how he was doing. I used my wither-cut out wool pad and tried to be sure to leave space over those touchy withers of his.

He warmed up fine--rather exuberantly, actually. Then when I went to check the pad, the slightest pressure from it made him twitch, so I switched to Peter's fleece pad (also a wither cut out but open in the front) and a blanket on top of that.

I got on and we walked, just walked. I encouraged him to just move as he wanted, as he was comfortable, trying to get him to swing out and stretch through his shoulders. I got some of the twitchies whenever anything touched his neck--my hands, reins, whatever--but he would keep walking through it. Could have been heat and flies on top of whatever is going on, too.

After I got off, he had an odd sweat pattern on that left shoulder, so I unsaddled him there in the arena and took him to the wash rack to cold hose him. As I hosed him down, he gave me some good releases--blowing, licking his lips and good shakes. Then I took him back in the arena where he proceeded to roll very effectively on both sides. Very thoroughly. That is the first time in awhile he's rolled on both sides, so I'm hoping that helped him.

Of course, now I've been away from him for four days, I've had a chance to worry and fret some more. He got a break, so that may be good, too. Katie was going to work him for me, but I haven't had a chance to talk to her to see how he's doing. Except to hear he's had plenty of grain in my absence.

My vet wants to do x-rays and Karen thinks that's a good idea. I halfway agree, I just don't know that I can afford it right now, so I'm adopting a wait-and-see attitude. Keep massaging, keep stretching him, keep working him lightly, keep cold-hosing any heat. See where we are in a couple weeks, then make the next best decision I can make for him.

Luckily, he seems more uncomfortable than in a lot of pain, which gives me the head space to figure this out and help him the best I can without draining my bank account. Sometimes reality sucks.

Aches and pains

I can't decide if I'm getting old or just finally using my body hard enough to notice it. Or maybe just using my body harder than it's used to?

Calabar and I had a great lesson yesterday. Lots of hard work at the trot and canter, still in the round pen to work on position and balance.

There is much work to be done, but an inkling of progress was made.

Towards the end, as we were working on the canter, my rib cage kinda started to hurt. Like a charlie horse, but maybe a little worse. Later, as I gasped with every movement, Steve asked if perhaps I could have mentioned the pain and suggested we try something different for awhile. Well of course we could have. Only other things were hurting, too, and it didn't seem so bad at the time.

Later it was bad. It's not so bad now, but it is definitely still there. At least breathing isn't painful at this point, so we are improving.

My guess is I tore some scar tissue loose from when I broke my rib(s) last year. Pain was in the same place, only felt a little different and nothing was moving this time (big PHEW there).

On the plus side, if the scar tissue is looser, it should help improve my flexibility, which--according to Peter--needs a lot of work. "Roll with the horse!" he says. My back does not comply with verbal commands, it appears, and I continue to bounce more than we'd all like. Bar especially, though he's the most tolerant all things considered. (Particular considering it's his back I'm bouncing upon.)

The lesson? Sometimes it pays to only look at the plus side. I also gave myself a break (not a painful one) today, which seemed prudent for a couple reasons: a) it hurts to move, let alone ride and b) I'm on vacation next week and would like to enjoy it.

Calabar didn't mind in any case, and we should be able to regroup later in the week for some work before Steve and I take of Saturday for our horse-less camping adventures in the Northwest.

Best to get some ridin' in before we go, eh?

Forrest gives us a scare

Horses have the reputation of being, well, horses and hurting themselves doing dumb things.

We have had a few minor instances with Calabar and Lena, but Forrest did a good job Friday of reminding us all that sometimes horses do goofy things and pay the price for it. Of course, Katie had to pay the price for it, too. She's going to be working to pay off vet bills for quite awhile--with the joys of horse-ownership come glorious pitfalls as well.

The day ended normally enough, even on time for once. I was packing up to leave the office when my phone rang. Steve told me Forrest had gotten hung up in his gate and opened up his fetlock badly enough that Peter thought we needed to call the vet. Peter is not an alarmist, not by any stretch of the imagination, so when he says to call the vet it's time to call the vet.

I called and texted Katie and headed to the barn to see what damage had been wrought.

Forrest had been pawing while waiting for his grain and managed to get his fetlock joint caught in the lower inside corner of the gate, right below the hinge. The hinge wedged it in so well, Steve couldn't pull it free and neither could Peter. This naturally led to anxiety and struggles from Forrest, until he fell backwards and managed to pull his leg free himself. It probably wasn't pretty, but at least he was free. By the time I got there, his right front fetlock was bloody and swollen and he was lame on the leg.

Katie got there and we called our vet only to find she was away for the weekend. And why is it that horses don't hurt themselves during regular business hours, anyway?

Leslie had, as always, left the number for a substitute who told Katie to cold-hose the leg while we waited.

Because of the type of injury, how it happened, and where it was, the vet recommended an x-ray to rule out any severe bone or joint damage. I'd have taken pictures of the cool set up, but I was wearing my own lead apron and holding Forrest at the time. Plus, Katie was afraid the news would be dire and didn't really want photo documentation.

Dire would have been if there had been severe bone damage (there wasn't), or if the joint had been damaged (it wasn't), but x-rays and then a joint tap gave us good news. The options for treatment had there been separation in the joint or significant bone damage are too expensive for us to consider, so Forrest could have ended up as a very young pasture ornament. Luckily and to all our relief, he has other things in his future. Like daily leg wraps, four weeks off, including at least one week of stall rest.

Forrest says he was framed and when can he come out? Jail is no fun! I told him it was his own dumb fault, so suck it up.



The plus side is his fetlock joint in general is in fine shape--especially for a horse off the track--and I got so see some really cool field veterinary technology!

Pets (and our horses are definitely pets) are wonderful and add so much to life. They do, however, sometimes take big chunks out of your wallet in the process. That is part of the lesson, part of the responsibility.

Making progress

The retraining process is actually moving along nicely--at least as far as I'm concerned. Bar is okay with it so far, but he has more in store than he may have realized.

I finally got a chance to talk with Peter (our barn owner and trainer) about his advice regarding the big, brown opinionated Thoroughbred.

The good news is he doesn't think Bar is that bad--certainly worth working with--and is willing to help me with him. We talked about the latest events, and Peter suggested I take a lesson with him on a milder horse so he can see how I ride. He hasn't seen me in awhile because by the time I get there, he's usually fed everyone and is inside the house having his own dinner. I know my seat needs work, but could probably use some help and specific pointers from an outside force.

The bad news, at least as far as Bar is concerned, is Peter is willing to work with us.

I know this is giving him far too much credit, but Bar popped his head up as Peter and I were talking and I swear he looked a little apprehensive. "Uh oh. This can't be good."

After Peter and I talked, I took Bar down to the round pen for some ground work. He did great. Respectful, obedient, asking what was next--it was awesome.

But the best part came after we were done.

We walked out of the round pen and as I was closing the gate, he reached over to a pile of tack sitting there and picked up the bit and bridle sitting there, bit in his mouth, and looked at me. Expectantly.

I told him he had to wait, and why, and patted his fuzzy nose.

Soon, I promise. Soon.

Broken, but only a little

I gave up and had an x-ray this afternoon. Certain people (Steve, Katie, my co-workers, etc.) thought that before I got back on a horse, it would be wise to be sure there wasn't anything broken so I would know how long the actual healing time would be.

My x-rays say I have a "right sacral alar fracture as manifest by disruption of the first through third neural sacral arches."

I'm not exactly clear as to what that looks like, mind you, but I sure know how it feels. And I would add to that a big, fat "Drat!!"

There is really nothing to be done about it but to rest it (meaning not get on my horse for awhile) and manage the pain. Advil, ice, and the hot tub are my best friends at the moment and I'll be calling my chiropractor tomorrow for alternative therapies.

Katie is threatening to sell Calabar (or rather give him away) to Canada or Mexico, but I won't let her. It's really only half his fault, and I'm not done improving us, yet.

We just have to take a time-out from riding for a few weeks, that's all.

Time to get a little creative, I'd say.

Back in action

Originally uploaded by spottyhorse67

Bar got his first workout in nearly two weeks, and he needed it!

The race-breathing returned as he ran himself to the left in the round pen. I just figured out it reminds me of Lamaze breathing--quick, explosive, and rhythmic, "phuh, phuh, phuh."

He even dealt reasonably well with Forrest banging around in the round pen and other commotion. After ten days of cooped up Thoroughbred energy, his antics were not only expected, but welcomed. It all meant he was feeling much, much better and that's all that matters to me.

Bar is re-shoed

Having heard (and witnessed) the horror stories around abscesses, I was fully prepared to go several weeks soaking Bar's foot, applying the foul-smelling Ichthammol, and watching him limp around while battling my guilt.

As it turns out, he is as good at being laid up as I am. My friend Joan pointed out that an injured animal is a target for predators, which probably explains the stoic nature of hurt horses as well as the quickness of recovery.

When I got to the barn last night, he was moving very comfortably all the way around. I probably would have left the boot on, but it had worn through at the toe so Katie helped me re-wrap the whole thing.

He was so comfortable, as a matter of fact, that when I called Mike today to report in, Mike decided he would swing by and put the shoe back on. There is the risk of the abscess simply drawing back in and finding another path, but we'll just keep an eye on him and see how it goes.

At the moment, he seems to be sound, happy, and bouncing off the walls. Steve reported that the energy level appears to be normal and suggested I might want to get out to the barn tomorrow to work the big brown bundle of cooped-up Thoroughbred before Bar launches himself into space.

Which is exactly what I intend to do. I even spent an extra 45 minutes tonight clearing out my email inbox so I could escape on time tomorrow to get the boy out. And moving. And probably bucking and farting, for that matter.

We both need it.

The boot remains

Originally uploaded by spottyhorse67

Much to my surprise--especially after a solid night of rain--the diaper and duct tape boot we reapplied yesterday was still in place this afternoon. Phew!

Even better than that, Bar is putting weight on the foot and moving much more comfortably than he had been. He even let me pick up the other hind foot without any fuss or obvious discomfort. Yes!

The plan is to see how it's all holding together tomorrow, take a little walk to see how he's moving, and call Mike for next steps. If Bar is doing well enough, we'll probably put a shoe back on in the next few days and see how he does.

Certainly, the energy under the skin is beginning to hum at normal levels, too, which was really good to see.

Abscess makes the horse grow fonder

After I saw Bar last night, I called our farrier (the fabulous Mike Brookfield) who told me he'd meet me at the barn this morning, pull the shoe, and see what we could find out. Mike has been our farrier since right before Bar came along and I hope he never retires. He's there when I need him, he has been known to swing by on Sundays to tack a shoe back on, and I even had to force a check on him today.

But back to Bar who wants to remind everyone it's his foot that hurts.

The second thing Mike noticed--after the funny way Bar lifted his leg to walk--was Bar not being, well, Bar. It's like the energy that normally hums under his Thoroughbred skin is completely redirected right now. He stood more quietly for Mike than he ever does, almost as if he knew this was going to help. Even when there was pushing on the sore spot. Even for the wrapping of said foot in diaper and duct tape.

Mike got into the foot and found a dark spot we thought might be the culprit, but it cleaned out and turned out to be nothing. The sore spot turned out to be just at the point of the frog, towards the toe, but he couldn't see the path (an exit point for the abscess), even after cleaning and removing some of the hoof there. He was just about to slap on the Ichthammol (a drawing agent that smells like and has the consistency of sticky tar) when he decided to go just a little further after feeling some heat in the area.

And there it was. A tiny pin prick. Really, it looks like nothing compared to the 1,200 pound animal it's underneath.

We packed the hoof with the nasty, tarry goo and wrapped it in a diaper and duct tape. Bar was not thrilled about having his hoof incarcerated, but he went along with us. Mike had warned me Bar might walk off worse, and he did, but we'll have a better picture in a couple days or so of where we are with it.

Of course, Bar will have to keep his wraps on and he is not necessarily cooperating in that regard. When Steve and I got back to the barn this afternoon, the diaper was in the middle of his mats, about a foot away from the duct tape. Bar sniffed at both as I walked up, almost as if to say, "Well, how did those get here?"

So while Steve and Lena thundered around the indoor arena, Bar and I re-wrapped his foot. I'll have to buy more diapers (first time in over 18 years), and possibly a soaking boot.

Calabar is normally an affectionate and snuggly horse, unlike his spotty counterpart who--while she is curious, attentive, and loves her humans--only climbs in your lap when she is sick and unhappy. Bar is not only more affectionate, but also more subdued. He may not be fonder of me, but I think he knows I'm trying to make it better.

The day of truth approacheth

Okay, really just the day my two ulna bones go back to being one ulna bone. With the help of some titanium hardware and a surgeon.

Tomorrow is the big day--check in is at 10:45 a.m. and, no, I have no idea how long this will take. From my perspective, it will probably not seem long at all between falling asleep and waking up with a new scar and some different device on my arm.

I tried to convince the anesthesiologist to let me watch, but it was a no-go.

Am I nervous? A little. Do I see another realistic option? Not really. The bones are still moving in there and while they might heal if I kept still long enough, the concept of being less mobile than I have been and wearing a cast for even longer just doesn't work for me. At all.

I'm sure if I'd been a 15-year old boy, they would have slapped a plate in there immediately--both because I was still growing and because, well, most 15-year old boys don't hold still any better than I do.

I think they need to examine their statistics around horse people, though. Really? You fell off a horse? Oh, and it was a horse you own? Yeah, plate this one up pronto.

Honestly? I'm more worried about the side effects from the drugs than the surgery itself. They are supposed to be adding anti-nausea drugs to the cocktail, but we'll see.

More later, including gory pictures and x-rays if I can get them.

Bar starts back to work

Unlike my arm, Bar's knee (well, carpus if one wants to be technical about it) has been cooperating and healing slowly but surely. It's not completely flat and it may never be pretty again, but there is no longer any heat in in it. He has been moving pretty comfortably on it for a couple weeks now, too, so we are gently returning to work.

Well, Bar is. One of us is still in a cast with a bone that appears unwilling to hold still and heal properly without surgical intervention. Dave over at A Tale of Two Buckskins has counseled patience. I know he's right, I'm just not sure I have any left at the moment.

But I don't have any cheese to go with that whine, so let's go back to Bar, shall we?

Prior to the carpus blowing up like a balloon, we had been working a lot on getting him to use his hind end to push instead of pulling himself along with his massive Thoroughbred shoulders. Progress was being made and he had started extending nicely through the shoulder and leading with his heel instead of catching and dragging his toes. This photo is from back in March and the position is lovely, as is the softness in his face. (That's his "ugly" bowed tendon in front, by the way.)


His convalescence has brought back some of his old habits, but watching him yesterday showed me he is paying attention to his body in a relatively new way. He caught a toe a couple times and then (on his own) shifted his weight back into his hindquarters, bringing the weight up off his front end and giving himself more control, more freedom, in front. It was so amazing to watch that subtle re-balancing--both because it means he is teaching himself that distinction, and because I could actually see the change in movement.

We have to work on his extension in front again, but it will come back. Two more weeks of ground work (my surgery is on the 11th) should help, and then we need to get out of the arena and back on the trails! Enough of circles, already!

Bar may know his body better than I do

Bar's knee has been my nemesis (well, besides my own arm) since last month. We drained, then wrapped, and re-wrapped really to no avail. Anytime the wrap would stay on too long (and stretch) or slip, the carpus would puff up like a balloon.

Truly aggravating.

So when Steve and I went to visit the folks we got Bar from and see their newest up and coming racehorse--Ginger, in the photo below--I told them what was going on.


They recommended stopping the wrapping, starting to use DMSO, and giving him some Banamine since they are well-aware of his reaction to Bute.

So, Saturday afternoon, I soaked his knee in cold water and then did just that. He didn't like it, but he didn't pout as much as I expected, though he did stomp a bit after the DMSO was applied.

Sunday, Bar got very agitated in the cross-ties, whipping back and forth until Steve went to him and calmed him down. We decided to skip the Banamine and see how the joint did. If it was more swollen on Monday, he'd get more Banamine. If not, well, the less drugs he gets, the better.

Monday his leg looked better--not perfect, mind you, but better--so I decided to just run some cold water on it, clean the area, and put DMSO on it.

Bar had other ideas entirely.

Just opening a jar of SWAT (similar look and shape to the jar of DMSO) caused major agitation in the cross-ties--so much, I was half-way afraid he'd bust loose. He NEVER once threatened me, he just acted like someone was going to kill him. So, taking a few pages from Mark Rashid's book, I decided Bar was actively trying to tell me something. Very actively, since he's normally a pretty good patient.

All the doctoring supplies got put away and I went back out to him empty-handed. He immediately calmed down. Just to gauge the situation, I went back and got the DMSO, opened it, let him smell it--then watched his eyes get wide as the agitation come back ten-fold.

Okay. Obviously, he has an issue with it, and probably has good reason for that. That big, brown horse is sensitive--very sensitive--and DMSO is not a soft-spoken product.

So--as hard as it was---he got minimal doctoring. Again, back to Mark Rashid, it seemed that if Bar knew his body well enough to react to the DMSO, he'd be able to let me know if something was helping, too.

Watching him move was an easy test.

Yesterday, I walked him and let him play a bit in the round pen. He wanted to work but was very conscious of the joint. After he did a little bit, I ran cool water over the leg and prayed it was the right thing for him.

Turns out my horse may have been right all along. Tonight, the carpus is less swollen than it's been in a long time and he's moving on it with strength and confidence.

Luckily, some of us can admit when they are wrong.

Bored with this

Originally uploaded by spottyhorse67

Bar and are both bored with being injured. His knee re-puffed yesterday because the bandage slipped, but he was the most impatient with the wrapping process he's been this whole time.

I don't blame him, not one little, teensy bit.

Lessons in leg wrapping

(Note: I know I am referring to his carpus as his knee, but I think y'all get my drift.)

When I got to the barn Friday, it was after both Katie and Steve had told me Bar's bandage had slipped. And it had. It was resting comfortably right below his knee, doing absolutely no good.

Argh.

So I re-engineered my wrap in two pieces--shorter section below the knee, longer and resting on top of the lower wrap to cover the leg to about 4-6 inches over the knee.


When we got to the barn yesterday, I was thrilled to see the blue and tan wrap still in place, and even more glad to see distinct improvement--e.g. much less swelling--in the knee. It looks great head-on!


A little less great from the side, but still making progress.


He got duct tape along with his vet wrap yesterday, mainly because it pulls off the roll easier than the first aid tape and my left arm needs all the help it can get right now.


I'm off to the barn shortly to see how things look today. I'm hoping the new aggressive wrapping can dissipate the swelling so at least one of us can go back to work.

Jess-1, leg wrap-0

Bar's expression really says it all.

Even more good news, the knee is looking much, much better as well. We went for blue and purple vet wrap today. And duct tape.

More pictures to come.

Lay up

Having both Bar and me laid-up has led to possibly more thinking about training than is fair to either one of us. While he does want to work, he did look at me recently as if to say, "Sometimes it's okay to just to hang out and eat grass, you know." It may not hurt either one of us to just relax a little bit. Since neither of us is particularly good at that, it could be construed as training of a sort as it allows for some gentle detox time.

Of course, he is also ready to work--mentally anyway--and definitely tired of his pen. This week, he re-puffed and I was too worn out and sore by the end of my days from balancing my broken arm and over-using my good arm that I didn't even have it in me to take him down for a walk.

I go back and forth--do I trust him not to get goofy? Most days, yes. But he is who he is and sometimes needs strong reminders. That's fine, I am happy to reassert leadership any time, but afraid I would do what needed to be done before considering my arm. (Not that I've done anything like that at all during the healing process so far, of course. Absolutely not, nope.)

Bar, however, does not have my ability to take the long view and trade a moment's entertainment for getting properly healed so we can play hard later. Apparently he recently sneaked out past the guy who comes to clean pens and then played catch-me-if-you-can with Peter. Luckily, he doesn't want to leave the ranch and Peter always gets his horse.

Sometimes I wish I had that bio-link with him like the characters in Avatar had with their horse creatures, then he would know I totally understand and why we are so far out of our normal routine.

I couldn't exude any patience, of course, but we could at least grumble together.