Falling Back in Love

It's been three months since I last posted on Vince and our daily struggles. Spark Plug's death, coming so soon after Sneaky, took the wind out of our sails. Going to the barn, missing those faces, knowing we did everything we could to save him only to be defeated by the long term effects of starvation brought all of us to a hard place. The other horses felt the change just as we did. These are highly intelligent, feeling, caring, creatures and they have been in their own form of mourning for the loss of members of their herd.

Summer down here was hard - hot, humid, steamy. The horses stayed in their stalls during the day, heads low as they slowly munched hay to expend as little energy as possible in the stifling Georgia heat. At night they walked through their pastures, dark shadows voyaging from round bale to water trough to round bale in the still night air. With little rainfall and high temperatures for weeks on end, it was hard to keep spirits up and weight on all our harder keepers.

There were some bright spots. Thanks for a generous private donation to BSRA, we now have a tractor with bush hog to help with manure management and pasture maintenance. Dozer, another of the Paulding Super 6 rescues, continues to improve and is now under lease to one of our students, working on their first level dressage test. They make a great pair. Maple's foot, after the procedure at Auburn Vet School, has healed well and she is back on turnout with several of our older bachelor geldings. Maple is quite the flirt and the old men are eating it up. And my grumpy gelding himself has finally found a herd group to fit into.

But for every good moment there have been the bad, the sad, and the frustrating. Katie, the OTTB who had her teeth fixed earlier in the year, fell in the trailer coming home from a show and skinned her hip. Mr. Big went home to his owner for a visit, leaving another space in our hearts. And Paulding Super 6 horse, Daisy, was discovered one morning with an arrow wound in her hip, the apparent victim of poachers looking for the deer herd on our property. To top off the summer, super pony Grits, after a high fever with no results on his blood work went to Auburn where it was discovered he has the flu and a torn stifle ligament.

So, summer is ending and fall is just around the corner. I'm ready for a change. The horses are ready too. Looking forward to cooler days, longer rides, and a little slower pace for everything. Of course, with horses I am sure it's just a matter of time until somebody does something and the whole show will start all over again.

Catching Up With My Friends

I hadn't been out to the barn for almost two weeks until yesterday. Unfortunately, I do have a real job which allows my to have my horses and spring is one of my busier seasons. So when I arrived for my normal barn day I had almost forgotten we had a schooling show on the books. Oh well, there is nothing happier than the sound of happy people around the horses. Since we had visitors from another barn, several people wanted to know more about our rescue program.

Nineteen months ago BSRA joined with several other mid-Atlantic rescues to save horses from a supposed rescue in West Virignia. The lucky three who came home to Georgia that September day were Ella Grace, Sterling, and Connor. I have written quite a bit on our newest horses, but tonight I want to brag on the West Virginia 3.

Arriving at the barn the first morning the 3 were at BSRA I wasn't truly prepared for the emotionally diverse animals we had been entrusted with. Connor was a baby, around eighteen months old and unattached to the others. He accepted the alfalfa tea and hay offered with all the manners of one who had been kicked down the seniority line. Only after noting that Sterling and Ella Grace had their own piles to eat from did he settle in. Connor's life hasn't been blessed, ten months ago he impaled his chest on a fence post. The deep, life threatening wound healed slowly, keeping Connor stall bound for almost six months with minimal hand walking. Too much activity might open the wound again and set his recovery back.

To help Connor with his 'imprisonment', Sterling was voted his steady friend. When Stir-fried arrived he was more than three hundreds pounds underweight, a two year old with a vicious cribbing problem. A crippling dependency on Ella Grace made it hard to get the scrawny Thoroughbred into a stall, but soon he began eating and growing, a process which he has repeated in many cycles, now standing more than 16 hands and still cribbing despite collars, herbs, special hay nets and grazing muzzles. While never a speed demon, Sterling is graceful, his long legs delicate at the trot, and his foster mother loves him with a ferocity and depth of heart this wonder pony needed.

Ella Grace, the mother of the West Virginia 3, is a twenty-something Thoroughbred who was never raced, never tattooed. Feminine and lovely she endured the obsessive Sterling and worried over Connor until she was slowly worked into the mare herd. She moved smoothly and can jump cross rails with the grace her names implies. But she isn't truly a lesson girl, Ella misses a special person to care for her. While several of our riders love Ella, so far there hasn't been just one for this beautiful little mare.

Three lives, intersected and joined by the whims of men, to be on that farm at that time to be placed in our care. One mare, two geldings, three stories - how far they have come since that first Saturday when I met them. Ella has been in the program and is currently up for possible adoption to the right person. We love her, and don't want her to leave, but know she deserves that important 'one person'. Connor's chest has healed, and overnight he has turned into the sweetest little cow pony anyone could ever desire. His attachment to Sterling is iron-clad; when his buddy is in the ring, Connor stands right outside the door to hear how Sterling does. Once they are together in the pasture, Connor will go his way, but one eye is always out for the cribbing bay gelding, no matter what fence post he is worshipping at the moment.

And Sterling? Well, in some ways he has hit the proverbial jackpot. With one loving foster mom, Tiff, and under the instructions of our two fabulous trainers Kristina and Sami, Sterling is winning classes and divisions in the Hunter / Jumper competitions around Northwest Georgia. At the true age of almost 5, Sterling is finding his groove in life.

Daisy, Daisy - Give Me Your Answer True

Last Saturday we had an Easter Egg Hunt at Blue Skies. We did pony rides, face tattoos, along with the hunt itself. It was a magical day, warm sunshine but not too hot. Just the sort of day that belongs to Spring, warm enough to hint of the summer that is to come and to forgive the drab winter past. Most importantly we raise more than $500 for the support and maintenance of our horses.

But in the midst of all the happiness, the day was tinged with sadness, because Sneaky wasn't there. No matter how many times we looked at each other and shrugged it off, the emptiness of him was everywhere. For the first time we all grieved in public while attempting to put on a happy face.

After the crowds went home, we worked with the rescues. Dyna and Dozer are progressing very well. They enjoy being under saddle and have obviously been someone's partner in the past. They even attempted the ground poles and crossrails with interest and vigor. Daisy, was another story.

Daisy came to us, the little run dun mare with broken teeth. We discovered very quickly she does not like anyone handling her on the right side. While we had always suspected abuse, Saturday confirmed our suspicions. First, we went to quick release tie her for grooming and she pulled back hard, more upset than expected. For a short period of time, she let one of our assistant instructors on her, walking along behind Sami, following quietly. ear pricked forward and a spring in her walk. Then, Sami bent down to pick something off the ground, and as the story goes, "that was all she wrote."

The mare exploded in a shower of bucks and straight into the air leaps. The poor assistant dived for the ground, but not before one of Daisy's hooves grazed her on the way down. Luckily there were enough of us in the ring to calm down Daisy and handle the downed instructor. We aren't sure what triggered the meltdown, but it showed us the deep truth of this poor little girl - some where along the line, she has had the crap beaten out of her for no reason, either with a whip or pipe or wooden bat.

So while five of our Super 6 are making strides toward healing, Daisy has taken a step backwards. After she was returned to their pasture, I went out to talk with her, assure her we understand, we love her and will never hurt her for acting out. The road to recovery is long and paved with stumbling blocks, and we just found one on her path. No problems, we drop back and reassess. No hard feelings.

But I know if I ever find out who beat this poor mare, I might revive the old custom of tar and feathers. The depths to which mankind can sink never ceases to amaze me. Did beating on this poor girl make whoever you are feel like more of man? Because I will tell you the truth - a man who will beat an animal will beat a human, just give them time.  What will be their excuse then? Remember - karma is a bigger witch than I am and it will catch up to you.

It would almost be nice if Daisy could mete the punishment out to those who abused her. That is what I call fair.

"Now I Will Believe That There Are Unicorns."

The quote is not mine, it is from William Shakespeare's The Tempest, but I know there are unicorns. I saw one leave us last night and my heart will never be the same for having known him.

Several weeks ago I wrote about BSRA's sturdy, grouchy Arabian Sneaky, who had fallen in the pasture and was in difficult circumstances. Sneaky had surprises galore amassed for us, walking everywhere he wanted to be, eating everything in sight and living the country gentleman's life. The hematoma in his chest and belly began to lessen and his winter coat was shedding along with everyone else on the property.

Last Saturday I watched from barn all day as the grand old man stood in the sunshine of the new pastures, eyes half-closed with contentment, chewing the new spring grass. So full of himself and so full of passion; every time I headed for the food, magically he would appear from nowhere to taste test anything which might have value as a treat. He stood patiently by the refrigerator and told me in no uncertain terms that he knew there were carrots inside and it was his prerogative to have one whenever he desired.

He stood in the midst of the front hall, farting with excellent and enjoying the discomfort of any soul unlucky enough to be caught in the back draft. He nibbled hay from every bale around the barn and searched stalls to see if any horse had left their breakfast undone. Sneaky's mane, which had been unceremoniously trimmed several years ago by an unsuspecting and well meaning volunteer, was back to his high Arabian standards. Thinking even now about his indignation over the accidental hair cut I must smile. Sneaky didn't need words to let us know his opinion of the whole experience. His hair was the center piece of his breed, the one vanity the old gelding took to heart. Without the mane, in his eyes, he was just another horse. To anyone who knew him, he was more than his hair.

"We are much stuff as dreams are made on", also from The Tempest, best describes this proud stallion. His space was his space and in his younger days taught many children the basics of riding. With his head and tail held high, if Sneaky liked you then he would allow you to ride. If he did not, then it wasn't going to be a good experience. When he met his girl, D, then he changed. He considered D his person, his other half. Their relationship was another piece of his unicorn magic.

For D, he would allow himself to be painted multiple colors and then washed, dressed up for Halloween and anything else; all he needed was her company and the days were complete. Of the rest of us, he liked some, tolerated others but could always be won with a treat. When Redwood was born the old man willingly took on the position of grumpy grandfather. As we worked to save Red last December, Sneaky was the one who stood nearest the fence, watching over the dying yearling.

Last night we gathered around him and told all our favorite Sneaky stories. We told him it was OK to let go and be at peace. We held him and reminded him of the young one waiting across the rainbow bridge, and to not stay just for us, we would be alright. With large sighs and long in-depth looks we knew he understood. Minutes later he was quietly gone and the world seems a lot emptier now.

Every barn has its wise old man, and Sneaky was our. There is no one who can take his place. As I left the barn last night, tears dropping freely from my eyes, I looked up at the quarter moon and smiled. It looked like a Sneaky smile. The sky was clear, stars brighter than we see them here in the midst of civilization. At the barn, it shone like the nights of our childhood. A perfect sky for a priceless horse - it seemed fitting.

There is an Arabic proverb that states, "A horse of good breed is not dishonored by his saddle." Sneaky honored his saddle, his breed and his people. The Blue Skies family were honored to have been those people.

Yesterday...

Yesterday started Spring Cleaning at BSRA and the weather was, for the major part of the day, wonderful. The horses all had their noses deeply buried in round bales of hay within  the pastures and the rescues ate and napped in the March sunshine. These are the days I have always enjoyed playing hooky, whether from school or work. Not too hot (though it is warmer than March should be) and the sky so blue it beckons one outside to marvel in the brightness of its azure arch.

We have been using a homeopathic topical gel on Vince's legs to draw out any heat, encourage healing from the inside. When the leg was first injected the big gelding would kick your head off at the mere thought of touching the inflamed limb. Now he just flats his ears for a moment, cribs a few times and then returns to his hay. Darling daughter M took his first round of hand walking, along with the other invalids, Mouse and Savannah. Sneaky is currently allowed free rein to wander around the property but can usually be found in the new pastures eating and soaking up the sunshine.

I spent a long time with the Super 6, feeding carrots and using marigold spray against the early crop of flies Georgia is experiencing. Each had a different reaction to the holistic fly spray, which works just as good as any pesticide yet doesn't contain any poisons. Marigold spray also stays working for several days without need for reapplication. I highly recommend it, especially with horses that have systemic issues.

Dyna loved the carrots and stood patiently for the spray. There was no hesitation or shying away from the touch of spray against her skin. I am growing very attached to this intelligent mare. The way she studies me when I come to interact with them, her willingness to come to me and the thoughtful way she smells me from head to foot. I cannot wait until her quarantine is over and we can put a saddle on to see what she knows. Perhaps she was a cow pony, or a sure footed trail pony?

Maple (who I think should be named Joni) wanted my carrots but not the fly spray. She did not even want to sniff the bottle, making me wonder what trials she has been through. Throwing the bottle out of the stall I stretched out my hand to reassure her I would make no efforts with the spray. Poor mare, I find myself full of sorrow as we wait for results on the tattoo to come back. We have asked other Thoroughbred rescues and associates to help us with her poor lip tattoo.

Sparky and Dozer both had the same reaction - spray for carrots was a fair trade in their eyes. Though neither was as patient and willing as Dyna, they didn't shy away or flinch. Good solid geldings, what a wonderful after working with goofy gelding.

Dolce wasn't happy about the fly spray and I make sure to avoid the cuts and bites she received before coming to BSRA. Her eyes are still guarded, Dolce is considering her condition more so than the others appear to be doing. Now that her winter coat is shedding out the ribs are more visible, but so are the bites and kicks endured during her journey.

After spending time with the rescues it was my turn to hand walk Vince. The new pastures have wonderful baby grass coming in and after a month in his stall he was ready for grass! His 1000 pounds of horse dragged my 5'5" frame all over the pastures. Only the increasingly closer claps of thunder saved me from more arm pulling. Then the storm broke over the valley in its full intensity, bringing more rain to the already damp ground. The two ponds are full, the new grass is popping all over the farm and Stella's belly is growing more day by day.

Spring on a farm - there really isn't anything better.

The Super 6

When you have a farm, be it small or large, the work never ends. Even when you have the best of intentions, getting anything accomplished on the list you made at breakfast becomes impossible once you get to the barn and see what is what. Saturday is my day to work at BSRA. This past weekend, a large group of riders went to a local cross country 'pace', which left only a few horses to be managed, including my favorite invalids - Sneaky and Vince, along with two mares that are in different stages of recovery and six newly rescued ponies.

Mouse injured her rear end back in early January and Savannah has a cut on her rear leg just above the hoof. As most of the 'bossier' horses were gone for the day, I elected to turn Mouse out with the few quieter ones left behind. She was getting restless in her stall and the day was too beautiful to ignore. With the new horses in quarantine for 30 days, I put Sneaky inside the arena where Savannah could see him and know she wasn't alone in the barn.

My goofy gelding was also bored with his confined space. After letting everyone out, we set up the outdoor arena for Vince with hay and water. It was big enough he could move around, but small enough he wouldn't be able to re injure the suspensory ligament. With horses outside the arena to keep him occupied but safe, we deemed it time for our newest arrivals.

BSRA ransomed 6 horses, four of them in poor shape. While we worked around the barn they stood in their quarantine stalls, quietly chewing and examining their new location. As soon as we could, Miss Bev and I removed their blankets and took a visual scan of our new charges. What a bunch they are!

Worst of the lot would be Spark Plug, 'Sparky', a smaller Quarter Horse-style pony. My first impression was the dullness in his eyes. This poor boy is approximately 150 or more pounds underweight. From the moment I arrived until I left his nose was deep in his hay. There are no external wounds or scars, he just has been in starvation mode for a while. When I removed his blanket, I could feel every point of the spine, and his tail had been cropped off from the mess it had become.

Next comes the little dun mare, now renamed as 'Daisy'. She is missing teeth in the upper front, victim of a direct kick to the mouth; probably in competition for food, as she is thin and well scarred. In working with her, there might be some residual mental scarring. On her right side along the girth line she raised her hind leg and spun around to warn me something was upsetting her. Rather than push anything, I left. It wasn't the time to probe.

Third would be the red bay mare, 'Dolce'. She has been beaten up pretty well but hadn't been there too long, as her weight was still good. But it was obvious she has breeding. There is a Jockey Club tattoo under her lip, but we cannot find it in the database. When Sami has more time she can investigate.

The other Thoroughbred is a tall drink of water now called Maple Leaf. Not sure if that will stick. Dark bay without a spot of white, her lip tattoo is impossible to read. Only with pictures of her and the remains can we make any attempt at her registered name. She is well under weight and eats like a Dyson vacuum. Her eyes are soft and remind me of our other rescue Sterling. When she gains her health and starts working again she will be magnificent with her long elegant legs.

The other two are thin but only to the touch. From a distance 'Dozer' the Halflinger cross gelding, and 'Dynamo' a Quarter Horse draft cross are both large and in charge. 'Dyna' is leader of the band and watches everything to make sure the others stay in line. Dozer loves three things: food, people and food (not necessarily in that order!). His attitude toward everyone and everything is instant and infectious. His personality really fits with his name.

When I returned after brunch on Sunday, what a happier group awaited me. Late Saturday everyone got groomed and hand walked and loved on. That night they slept warm and full with their blankets. Sunday was a day for the eyes to begin wondering, "Is this really it? Will we be safe?" The noses were extended with more curiosity than the day before, hooves were extended for cleaning. With a wave of love we started the path back to normal, where every horse has a place and a purpose and a forever home with their favorite person.

That will be a wonderful world.

Join us as we track the rehab of the Super 6, along with the exploits of my goofy gelding Vince as he recovers from suspensory ligament damage. Because no day with horses is routine, it's always an adventure!

We Save All We Can

This is how it is: I work at a horse rescue center. It isn't always pretty. But it is always rewarding.

Yesterday, Blue Skies ransomed 6 horses from a slaughter/auction holding farm. This a person who picks up horses cheaply from auctions around the South, feed them and resells to either another auction site or directly to a kill buyer. A kill buyer takes the unransomed horses (I refuse to say unwanted) and ships them to either Mexico or Canada for slaughter.

That's right - slaughter. If you have gotten rid of a horse in this recent economy, chances are they have found their way into the slaughter pipeline. No, they aren't living the good life on some big farm in the mountains, or teaching lessons at a stable in horse country. They are headed on a one way trip to hell. Sorry, I know that might come as a shock to some people. To those of us who are in the rescue and rehabilitation of horses it is the sad reality.

Here are the facts: There are more horses bred on an annual basis in this country than will ever be profitable to the breeders. With the depressed economy horses are a luxury most people consider expendable. Livestock auctions and rescue centers around the country are struggling to keep hay and feed for the animals they have; there is precious little room for any extra animals.

To most of you, horses are just another animal, like a cow or a goat. Well, wouldn't Alexander the Great have looked pretty funny conquering the known world on the back of a goat!

For the rest of us, it is a sobering reality. So many owners call wanting to surrender their animals for lack of funds, others want to 'trade' their older, usually ill animals for younger healthy horses. And I love the calls looking for the perfect, sane, calm pony for children to 'ride'. Perfect and sane and pony don't usually go in the same sentence.

There is nothing physically wrong of any of the 6 animals we ransomed yesterday that we can see, other than severe malnutrition for several of thems and a new wariness toward humans probably not there before adventures and fate brought them to BSRA. From a detached honest perspective I can see personality and promise in each of them, but I know it will be at least three months before true progress and trust can be established. Is that discouraging? A little, but that is the reward, the human 'carrot' at the of this stick.

Because that is the beauty of rescue. Seeing a defeated and lonely horse coming to life with love, attention and food. Watching relationships and herds form and re-form as newcomers are worked into the farm. Helping a neglected animal recognize that not every person who comes near them means harm. These are rewards that cannot be measured in terms most humans understand. You have to feel their love to know the power of a horse.

And perhaps, one day, everyone will understand.

The Definition of Heart

This was an extremely busy weekend for Blue Skies Riding Academy. On Thursday Miss Beverly left for a training session on natural healing and herbs. On Friday we took nine horses and eleven riders to our first show of the season and little rescue donkey, Stella Blue, allowed me to pet her and kiss her nose on Saturday. All in all a productive three days.

On top of the excellent performances from all our riders (and trainers!), Sneaky decided a five minute hand walk was too boring. While I walked five feet into the barn for a longer lead rope, he decided to take a field trip into the back pasture for some fresh grass. My irritation at him not following orders was quickly overtaken by joy at seeing the grand old Arabian walking free again. He stood in the sun, chewing the new grass, eyes closed in complete happiness in the sunshine. The road to recovery for a 20+ year old horse is long, but I will revel in the small steps.

On a different note, Vince was not having a great day. He had seen the trailer loading Friday morning and the awareness he wasn't going did not sit well with my boy. When I arrived on Saturday morning, instead of happy Vince, I got surly Vince. With all my magnificent volunteers riding at the show, my day was full of stalls and manure and shavings, so it was after lunch before I got time to spend with him one on one.

He loves eating hay while I brush him down, but the back left leg with the suspensory ligament damage is still off limits. No touch, no rub, he barely let my fingertips run along the leg. When I see the immediate pain reaction on his face, my heart bleeds. Horses have no vocal cords for the spoken word, only the twitch of their multi-directional ears and a lifted limb. To know he has been in such pain and I didn't know the source is frustrating.

While I rubbed my goofy gelding and gave him treats with rock sugar in the center (absolutely favorite new treats), my darling daughter was riding her first love in the show ring. Penny (registered name How Much Money) was our first horse, a Quarter Horse with a heart a mile wide and a pedigree that includes Man O' War. (Quarter Horses are a combined breed, usually Thoroughbreds with native pony.) The first years of her life were spent in the rodeo ring as a reining horse. Basically, running first speed from one end of the arena to the other, then slamming on the breaks and sliding on the hocks.

Penny has arthritis in her hocks, we knew that when we purchased her. But she and M have been true partners since the moment they laid eyes on each other. No matter how many other horses my daughter might ride, Penny is her partner, the one I wanted for her first horse. But last year she developed another problem - navicular. With so much pain in all legs, the decision was made to semi-retire Penny. Thus Vince entered into our lives.

This show was supposed to be Vince's big debut, but instead reliable Penny stepped up to the plate. With only minimal conditioning, she went to the show and took home three ribbons, 4th, 5th and 6th. The prize isn't the ribbons, it is that she competed at all. Her navicular has been well managed by proper shoeing, rest, minimal jumping and occasional riding. But when she was called upon, her only answer was "Yes". THAT is the definition of heart.

We have almost 30 horses at BSRA, and all of them have people who love them and cherish them as partners. I own three, Penny, Vince and a wonderful little rescue named Bella, who deserves her own post. If anyone tries to tell me a horse is just a dumb animal, I have 30 four-legged friends to help me prove otherwise. I love the lessons I learn from them. They make me a better person and the unconditional love they exude is precious. Isn't that what we all need?

UPDATE: Sneaky and Vince, Comrades in Stalls

We went out to the barn today, to prepare for a horse show this weekend across town. It was the first time I had seen Vince or Sneaky since Saturday. There were a lot of changes.

First, an update on Sneaky. He is feeling good, and the swelling in his sheath has gone down considerably. I walked him around the aisles today and we moved at his pace, which consisted of three steps forward and then wait a few minutes before walking three more. The fluid has settled to the lowest points, along the bottom line from sternum to rump. This causes the skin to stretch tight across the top line making the hip bones more pointed that they really are.

His appetite is still good as is his water intake. What goes in is having no problems coming out in either format. The banamine was making him sweat, so SM gave him a haircut to help with the sudden heat wave we are having here in the South. I presented him a molasses treat with rock candy in the center, which he loved, and a small carrot. That took a little longer, but when we left he had moved around in the stall and was starting in on the evening hay.

Sneakers is in for a long recovery, but as long as his spirits stay good it will be okay. He knows this time he got hurt worse than ever before and this injury is teaching him that age is more than just a number. But he also knows how much he is loved.

There is a special bond that exists between horses and humans. Our bond with them is primal; on their backs we conquered the world. Behind their shoulders have plows brought our food. They have transported us and transformed us, and if we stop long enough to listen, they can teach us. If we are smart enough to hear.

Vince is responding to his PRP injection extremely well. When he heard me come into the barn, he stopped cribbing long enough to come demand my attention. His eyes were bright and his ears were forward, two things that had been missing these past weeks as we fretted and consulted on what could be wrong. Today the goofy gelding was back, complete with a new component - love. After six long months of dancing around together, now we are a family.

Why did it take so long?  Why now? Because I took away the pain. I know, it wasn't me personally but we took him to the big scary place with needles and now it feels better. He knows at last we care about him. In human terms, all we did was take him to a doctor, but in the animal world we did something huge. In return Vince is ready to go forward and get better.

And you know what? So am I.

Into A Completely New Day

Late on Thursday afternoon, Dr. Groover and the Neurology team referred the case to the Surgical Department. The biggest break in our case was the really bad attitude Vince had developed in the preceding weeks. Always a little head shy, he had become down right unsociable. Not even AJ was immune to his poor view on life. His behavior was more irritated than would come from pure EPM, I was informed.

Vince had lameness issues.

When he was purchased in July of 2011 from Florida his feet were not in great shape. They were bruised, dry and he was almost walking on his heels. Since then we have been slowly balancing his feet. But when he moved, ever so gradually it became apparent there was something going wrong. The Surgical team repeated all the trotting motions the Neurology team had performed but they added another component - flexation.

First the front legs and then the back were pulled and tucked and after each time, the tech would trot him down the lane, stop at the end and return. With the front legs no amount of flexing or pulling made a difference. But as soon as they came to the back legs it was a completely different story.

The resident, whose name I will not attempt to spell because it was Italian and I never got it right, believed the problem was in the hocks. As the owner of one horse with bad hocks, from a first career as a reining horse, my immediate response was, "Are you sure?" She assured me the final decision would come from the head of the Surgical department, who name I will not attempt to spell because it was strange and I never got it right.  To confirm the decision a block would be injected into Vince's hock to measure the difference in pain when trotting.

More needles! But first we had to have our hocks washed to make sure no dirt could get into the injection site. While the cleaning portion wasn't too bad, they did have to sneak a calming shot into my boy to prevent their heads from getting caved in. Waiting for the block to take hold, the Surgical head came in from his afternoon classes.

The entire parade moved outside. Between the techs, the residents, the students and us there were about forty-eleven people watching my gelding trot back and forth. After three strides, the Surgical head proclaims, "It's not the hocks, it's the suspensory ligament." So back we go into the procedure room for another shot. (Did I mention there was still blood on the floor?)

After waiting inside everyone then troops back outside for another trotting session. Another down and back and Dr. Surgical Head announces that his problem moved from the left leg to the right. Amazing - my horse is so talented. Now the call is to sonogram the suspensory ligaments in the back legs. This means more sedation and a shave for each back leg.

To make a long story short (I know, too late!), we discovered three things:
1) - Vince has a lesion on his left suspensory ligament.
2) - His right ligament is inflamed.
3) - My horse can snore and drool while on drugs.

The lesion on the ligament is not new. It can be caused by repetitive off-balance motion, especially at high speeds. Vince is a jumper. They are prone to these injuries. It is treatable. Vince received a PRP injection. PRP stands for Platelet Rich Plasma. Basically they took Vince's blood, again, and spun it inside a centrifuge to separate the platelets. These are injected into the injured ligament to promote healing. It is very successful, though he might not be as enthusiastic about jumping all the time anymore.

Both horses spent the night, as the procedure was done on Friday morning before all the vets had to go either teach or be in class. After dinner at Ruby Tuesday's and a good night's sleep we awoke and drove back out to the Large Animal Hospital. Vince was just coming out of his sedation haze when we entered the barn. Connor had been wonderful, even feeling safe enough to lay down and sleep overnight.

With clouded skies and too warm temperatures we loaded, paid the bill and left. We ran into rain around the state line which at times was so hard you couldn't see the road in front of the car. Closer to Atlanta the sun came out and the ground dried up and at long last we were back at Blue Skies.

I confess to a large sigh of relief that our worst fears were not confirmed, but there is still a long road to rehab and recovery. For the next 30 days Vince is on stall rest with hand walking. Then we go back to Auburn for a recheck and further instructions. We could tell he already was feeling better because he was cribbing again and his sweet goofy attitude was back today. It was nice to see.

EPM is a horrible illness, and I learned so much I didn't know before. While he does not have an active case I feel for those who are going through the pain and frustration of this disease. I wholeheartedly recommend Auburn University Large Animal Teaching Hospital and its staff. The entire experience, from initial phone call through the on-site process was excellent. At times I felt frustrated, with the trotting and the shots, but most of that is the teaching aspect of the hospital. And no outrageous expense.

On a different but related note - Sneaky is going strong. The swelling to the butt and sheath are still there, but he is hanging in there. He gets walked a little every day, just to assess his movement. We take off his blanket, check the swelling, see how much he ate and how much he drank along with his poop and pee levels, which are still good. So that leaves Sneaky and Vince, two good friends, in slow motion rehab.

While originally this was going to be about Vince and EPM, I have decided to continue this blog. Sneaky and Vince still have a long road to walk and they enjoy being the subject of their own blog. Every person who owns a horse is never amazed when something out of the blue happens. I hope that we can help others who are treating their own brave and loyal companions. You aren't alone, although sometimes it feels that way. We all share the pain.

With Horses, It's Always Something.

We went over to the barn this evening to make sure everything was ready for Vince and Connor's big trip to Auburn in the morning, but if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans. Last night I received notice from the barn manager Vince had apparently leaned against the wall between his stall and the pony next door and had caved in some of the board. trapping Fox pony in a corner! Tonight we arrived to find a crisis of another kind, only this time, NOT with my horse.

Our barn has every type of horse - retired race horses rescued from the race tracks of the mid-Atlantic; horses rescued from various situations around the country; and our own personal animals. Once such gelding is Sneaky (registered Arabian name Sneak Preview), age 27 - one of our original herd purchased to begin Blue Skies Riding Academy. Sneaky is our grand old man, a proud Arabian with the attitude of the grumpiest of sweet old men. He is opinionated, hard headed, grouchy, and completely wonderful.

About a year ago the decision was made to retire Sneaky and let him live out the remainder of his days as a companion only. He doesn't tolerate the heat as well as he used to (he is a flea bitten grey) and too much trotting or cantering caused him to gasp for breath. Of course that decision lasted only a few months before he let us know, in no uncertain terms, complete retirement was boring. Since then he has only been ridden occasionally by his favorite person DW. They have a special bond and have more fun just being together than most any others. Until I started trying to curb Vince's cribbing, Sneaky was Vince's best and only friend.

Yesterday Sneaky was being grumpy under his usual tree when one of the other geldings started 'something'. I say it that way because only someone who owns more than one gelding knows what I am talking about. The pecking order with gelding is always fluctuating. They don't fight like stallions will, but they certainly run and snort and nip and act like boys. In the process of wanting to be left alone, Sneaky fell heavily onto his right back leg.

No one knows for sure how he fell, but he got right back up and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until this morning when the barn manager went to check on him. He wasn't eating very much and when she went in the stall it became very apparent the fall had been worse than suspected. His sheath was extremely swollen and his right hip seemed to be at a strange angle.  Many treatments were debated, but all roads eventually led to the phone and Dr. Sue was called. After more consideration we contacted DW just in case things didn't go right.

It took a while for the vet to arrive (isn't that always the way it seems), and she quickly determine that while nothing was broken, he does have a major hematoma on the inside of his right leg into the butt causing major pain. He can urinate, just cannot 'assume the position' as geldings do. We cannot touch the hematoma due to the location; if she were to be unable to staunch the blood flow there would be no way to save him in the field. The closest hospital is either UGA or Auburn, where we are already heading in the morning.

As a family we have made the decision to give him a few days with pain meds and steroids and dmso to attempt to the reabsorbing of the blood into the system. He is drinking well and and eating wet down alfalfa but there is a long road ahead. We will give him all the help and support that we deem safe for the old man. So when you say a prayer tonight, would you spare an extra one for Sneaky? Right now - he needs it more than Vince and Connor. They can have their prayers tomorrow. Tonight I have a different gelding who needs us.