On Soaking a Swollen Foot in Breakfast Foods...
Zydo came in to the barn limping the other day, which is never a good sign, and always a sign that hundreds of dollars are to be imminently spent on veterinary care.
My dad headed out to the feed store and bought himself some bran, which I thought was pretty wierd. I mean, if the horse hadn't gone to the bathroom in a couple days, I can see picking up a fifty pound bag of bran. But it was his foot that was ailing him, not his ass, so I was a little confounded.
Wisely, I chose not to question the methods of Steen, and dutifully stood by every day as he mixed up water, epsom salts, and bran into a thick plastic bag which he then tied to my horse's foot. Zydo was quite good, put up with these shenanigans quite well, I have to say, because if you tried to tie my foot into a bag of freezing cold, uncooked porridge, I'd probably take out all of your front teeth. And if I weighed fifteen hundred pounds? I'd likely stomp your femur into bone dust for good measure, as well.
Because he was receieving this treatment, he and Tia had to stay in for four days consecutively, and by this morning, both horses were literally climbing the walls of their stalls and trying to kill each other through the chain link that separates them. I took them out myself, something I've been scared to do without assistance (And to be honest? Dad was in the yard, and mom was right behind me) and watched them frolic and play.
Zydo was like a kitten with a ball of yarn outside, hopping through the snow on his hind legs, bucking and gallavanting around like he hadn't a care in the world. He did several flying changes, a little bit of piaffe, some passage, and some rearing up like a bronc in an old western flick.
And so, once more, the skepticism I usually hold of my dad's methods was proven wrong, and my horse is happy and sound once more.
Although I still think it is really, really strange that soaking a foot in bran mush, of all things, worked to solve his problem.
My dad headed out to the feed store and bought himself some bran, which I thought was pretty wierd. I mean, if the horse hadn't gone to the bathroom in a couple days, I can see picking up a fifty pound bag of bran. But it was his foot that was ailing him, not his ass, so I was a little confounded.
Wisely, I chose not to question the methods of Steen, and dutifully stood by every day as he mixed up water, epsom salts, and bran into a thick plastic bag which he then tied to my horse's foot. Zydo was quite good, put up with these shenanigans quite well, I have to say, because if you tried to tie my foot into a bag of freezing cold, uncooked porridge, I'd probably take out all of your front teeth. And if I weighed fifteen hundred pounds? I'd likely stomp your femur into bone dust for good measure, as well.
Because he was receieving this treatment, he and Tia had to stay in for four days consecutively, and by this morning, both horses were literally climbing the walls of their stalls and trying to kill each other through the chain link that separates them. I took them out myself, something I've been scared to do without assistance (And to be honest? Dad was in the yard, and mom was right behind me) and watched them frolic and play.
Zydo was like a kitten with a ball of yarn outside, hopping through the snow on his hind legs, bucking and gallavanting around like he hadn't a care in the world. He did several flying changes, a little bit of piaffe, some passage, and some rearing up like a bronc in an old western flick.
And so, once more, the skepticism I usually hold of my dad's methods was proven wrong, and my horse is happy and sound once more.
Although I still think it is really, really strange that soaking a foot in bran mush, of all things, worked to solve his problem.
posted by Amanda at 14:25
2 Comments:
Why didn't someone take Tia out without Zydo? Is this a rule I don't know about?
Yes, I know, horses are complicated. If we put Tia out to play and Zydo had to stay in, he would get very anxious and restlessly pace around in the stall and perhaps disturb the poultice on his foot. And just to be difficult, Tia would stand at the gate and call constantly to Zydo compounding the situation. Horses are a little bit like needy two year olds.
SuperNan
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