Hey there. Haven’t chatted in a while, so I thought I’d bring you up to date. Or at least partially so. You don’t honestly believe I’d put all my secrets on the internet, do you?
So, I took Gator hunting third flight last Saturday. And despite the fact we had a lovely view of the fox (little bugger ran clear across an entire field, hopped over the middle of a coop, ran through a second field and hopped over another jump – you can’t tell me they don’t know exactly what they are doing), third field is a major yawn. I do more exciting trail rides around Montpelier. If I can’t get a horse fit and sound enough for first flight, I am going to give up on all this nonsense. Kinda depressing, as that’s my only social contact with any biped.
Anyway, on to Tuffy. Tuffy is the sweetest horse imagineable. But on a scale of 1 to 9 (there is all that Heineke stuff we do try to follow. Really) he is always a four. Knee high in clover in May: four. Eating snowballs in December: four. Not that I think he should gain much more weight with that really bad knee of his, but he shouldn’t lose any.
I just got back from the old guy’s field, and Tuffy looks like he’s losing weight. Sigh. I’m going to have to bring him up and give him a super scrubby bath (make sure I don’t incubate any skin ickiness) and toss a blanket over him. If the blanket and the worming don’t stop the weight loss, I will have to ruin his entire life by moving him to the feeder field (new horses! No friends! Unknown field!). I hate moving horses. Generally makes things worse before they get better.
Take City for instance. I brought him up for teeth and to check the lameness (ongoing abscess? Never broke through. Lame, not lame…) and we found a nasty abscess. So he’ll be in a stall for a month. Only problem is he’s gone from being a mild cribber to completely neurotic and won’t eat. That’s what I mean by worse before better. And with that hole in his foot, he can’t go out in the mud. I guess I could bring up his girlfiriend (who did the same thing when she had to be stabled after surgery). Then I could clean both disasterous stalls everyday and watch them both lose weight. In December. When I’m trying like all get out to keep weight on these horses. Or at least hold status quo. City will get better. He’ll be quite sound again. But first we go through this.
Sorry, this sounds like another downer post. Well, that’s horses: the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. It truly is an addiction. I mean, they don’t call heroin “horse” for no reason, do they? I keep hoping my next three-day horse will walk through that door, despite the years of evidence to the contrary. He (or she, mares are cool, too) is out there. I know it.