Thursday, February 12, 2009

Woes in Horse Ownership...

This morning the telephone rang and when I saw that it was the Berry Queen on call display (Good Lord, how I love me some call display), I decided to be funny. So I put on my most professional voice and said "Good morning. You have reached the Injured Horse Capital of Ontario, how can I help you?"

And then the Berry Queen was silent. And then I said "Hello?"

And then the Berry Queen said: "Did you just say the Intercourse Capital of Ontario?"

And that isn't even how I started my morning. I started my morning out in the barn rubbing Polysporin on my horse much before the Berry Queen ever deigned to pick up her phone and dial the lovely people who reside here at The Ranch.

Zydeco (that wonderful, marvelous horse who I love to death) has yet another injury. It seems that he has kicked one of his hind legs with his oh-so-sturdy winter shoes. The ones with the metal spikes sticking out of them so he won't slip and fall on the ice. (You know, the ones that are supposed to PREVENT INJURY??!?!)

And really, the injury itself is nothing. I think I have a bit of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Or perhaps a touch of Post Traumatic Horse Injury Disorder.

You see, the last time Zydo had a minor wound to his leg, I simply washed it, applied antiseptic, and moved on. I planned to have our first big show over fences, and I told him all about it.

And then, he began to kick himself until his left front leg practically fell off, and our show season was kind of a bust.

So last Tuesday, I walked Zydeco out of the barn and we had a few brief minutes to chat before my trusty Ground Crew was able to get to the ring. I told him, with great excitement, about our plans to show competitively this summer. How I loved the feeling of getting ribbons last year, how we would surely woo the judges of many fine horse shows come the summer of 2009.

And then I rode him, and something seemed off. So I walked him a bit more, and still, something seemed off. So I asked him gently for a trot, and he said "Uhm, No. But how about this lovely slow-motion canter?" and I promptly decided that he should have a day off.

He went out into the field, frolicked and played like a yearling, and kicked himself in the left hind with all his might.

Seriously. Show season is months away. And still, simply because I mentioned the word SHOW near the horse, he has come up with another injury.

I am scared of this injury. The last time seemd like a big ol' nothing cut on a leg, and it turned into a nightmare in which my horse almost lost his life. I've been looking at it, examining it, staring at it, willing it with the force of my glare to not swell up...

And tonight I came home from work to find the leg swollen. And I would love to bandage it to provide some relief and support, but I own a horse who lives to eat bandages. If I were to bandage his swollen leg, he would either A) wrap it up around his leg in an attempt to eat it and cause the swelling to multiply or B) choke to death on the bandage while attempting to eat it.

Neither seem like good options.

And so, I am simply writing about it on the Internet in hopes that it doesn't turn into the disaster that occurred last summer. I'm hoping that in the morning, I will go once more to my horse's stall, find him in perfect condition, feed him an unGodly amount of grain, and move on with my day.

Here's hoping.

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Anonymous Jummy said...

Awww, poor Zydo! Are you sure that a stern talking to wouldn't make all thoughts of eating his bandages disappear from his mind? ;)

Poor guy! I can't imaging how painful being kicked by a metal spike would be :(

10:07 a.m.  

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