Bob's Big Day

I arrived at the barn early yesterday morning for Bob's big day.  On this day Bob would be getting injections in his knees amongst other things.  I snapped this picture before the Vet arrived. 

Regarding Bob's unstable knees.  I downloaded the Call Sheet in my email from last week to try to explain what's going on with them.  It says he has "effusion in both intercarpal joints.  He is 1/5 LF 1/5 RF flexions positive to carpal flexion L/R.  Radiographs reveal mild joint space" (and other stuff but I can't read the handwriting).  The Vet had told me that the injections should resolve the unstable knees.

As a result of the radiographs, the Vet had told me that Bob's toes were too long and needed to be cut severely back.  I had my Shoer out the day after the Vet visited.  I showed him the x-rays and the copy of the email the Vet had sent to me for him saying, " Bob needs his breakover to be reduced significantly by shortening the toe length and have a 2-3 degree wedge to correct his coffin/pastern bone axis".

I had been surprised when my Shoer told me he would not bring the toes back as far as the Vet had requested.  I asked him if it was because it was too much hoof to cut off at one time and he said that wasn't the case.  He told me the toes don't need to be that short and that this is "just how Bob is built".  End of conversation.

When the Vet arrived yesterday the first thing she wanted to see was Bob's feet.  I explained what happened when I shared her information with my Shoer.  The Vet looked at Bob's fronts and told me that his toes were still way too long.  She pointed out Bob's backs and observed that they look like they hadn't even been trimmed.  And she's right, they do look like they haven't been trimmed and are noticeably longer than his front toes.

She was disappointed that the Shoer didn't acknowledge her notes and team with her on resolving Bob's issues.  A conversation about future shoeing and who to use followed.

We moved Bob to the wash rack and he was sedated.  He received injections in both of his knees, a different issue than his stumbling from long feet.

When we moved a groggy Bob back to his stall so that he could have his teeth floated it became obvious how long his toes were.  He drug all four feet behind him with each step.  Yes, he was sedated but dragging those toes behind him as he did truly reflected how long they still are and how much effort he makes to pick up his feet when he isn't sedated.  Seeing him drag those toes really hit me hard and I felt horrible.

Bob proceeded to have his teeth floated and some beans removed.  He got his first injection of Adequan with the Vet showing me how to give his future shot.  (I'm sure by the time I finish all seven vials of Adequan that I'll be a pro.)  And with that we left him to sleep off his sedation. 

I will hand walk Bob the next five days.  On Sunday Bob will come home and I can let him out in the paddock for a week before turning him back out in the pastures.  I'm addressing the Shoer issue because Bob still needs his feet trimmed back further as soon as possible.

On November 19th the Vet returns and we will see if all of our efforts helped.  In the meantime I will keep you posted.  Thank you all for your support and kind responses to my Posts.  And Dancing Donkey...thank you so much for your observation because what you wrote is exactly what my Vet told me!

50+

A Prep for the Big Day with Bob

I write this in a hurry.  It's late and I need to be up early tomorrow so I can be at the barn to meet the Vet.  Today I hooked the trailer up and hauled Bob up to the barn where I've boarded in the past.  I call it "The Spa".  Bob will be spending the next six days at The Spa.

Have you ever visited a Doctor's office and after leaving found that you'd received so much information that you felt you couldn't quite grasp all of it?  That's how I felt last week when the Vet came out to pursue what's going on with Bob's legs.  There was so much information coming at me that I (still) feel overwhelmed and frankly I'm not sure if I was to write about all of it that I'd be correct in what I said.

So please forgive me if I don't recount all of what the Vet told me last week because even today it's still either garble or settling in.  I will try to get more clarification tomorrow.

What I can tell you is that the x-rays reflected wear on Bob's knees but the surprising find was that Bob's toes were way too long and his coffin bones were growing straight out instead of pointing downward at an angle.  The Vet wanted his toes trimmed and pads put on Bob's front feet because he is back at the heal (she called it Broken Backed).

The Shoer came out the following day and adjusted Bob's feet.  I love my Shoer, have had him for years so I had to gulp when he told me he was not willing to reduce the toe as much as the Vet had recommended.  I decided to not argue since I'd be seeing the Vet tomorrow and she could give me feedback as to whether the reduction was adequate or not.

Bob was clumsy on his new front feet but adjusted in a few days.  However, on Friday night I found Bob missing his front left shoe/and pad.  I called the Shoer Saturday morning but he couldn't get out until today (Tuesday) to put a new shoe/pad on.  He told me that Bob will need Bell Boots so he doesn't pull the shoes off (he forgot to tell me about that).

I've stepped into it now and my antennas run high.  I'm concerned that Bob's been limping around without that shoe/pad for five days and what impact that will have on his left coffin bone.  Will the right now be different?  Will find out tomorrow if that's an issue.

Tomorrow Bob is having "goop" injected into his knees.  I call it "goop" because as I write above, I'm not exactly sure what is being injected.  Its hand written on my med sheet from last week but it's all in medical jargon and hard to read the hand writing.  But I'm sure it's good "goop" cuz it sure costs enough!  :)

Bob will stay at the barn until Sunday on stall rest.  He will come home on Sunday to be turned out in his old friend, the paddock where he spent his spring when the grass was too hot in the pastures.  A week later he will be turned back out into the pastures and the Vet will be back out for a re-check on how things are going.

That re-check will decide where we go from there.  The Vet assures me that Bob will be able to be ridden, but I'm going to hold my excitement until I see how this all goes.  I've been down this road before (and we fell).

Here's Bob in his new blanket, ready to go to the Spa.  Once again, I'm thinking he looks sad...but maybe he was picking up on my vibes.  Because tonight my pastures are empty and they are meant to have horses on them.  Tonight I miss Bob.

On The + Side of 50

Tomorrow the sun comes back around marking another year in my life.

I've always felt age was a fact of life and something to be celebrated.  After all, what's the alternative - death? 

I've looked the years straight in the face and spit in their eye, reminding those around me that you're only as old as you think you are.

So what drives me?  My mantra in life is horses.

Horses define me.  I walk, talk and dream them.  Although irritating to some, I can't go more than fifteen minutes without bringing some part of them into my conversation. 

Horses are my motivator in life.  They get me out of bed each morning and keep me physically and mentally active.  While some would call caring for horses "work", I've always considered it "fun". 

When I'm actively riding I take better care of myself.  I'm conscious of what I eat.  I know from experience that when I don't eat healthy I don't ride well not to mention how I feel when I climb up in that saddle.

Riding has always been and still is my ultimate high in life.  The interaction and bond when I'm on a horse is the ultimate thrill.  When I finish a ride and get off I don't walk - I float.  And when I have a really successful ride I get off and jump up and down in joy, doing a little jig - before I float.

But my mantra in life has had a crack in it since summer. 

When Bob's knees gave out and we fell in early June I tried to resolve the issue.  I had the Vet out and I added supplements to his feed,  I had changes made to Bob's shoes.  After some time off Bob seemed fine.  He was back to flying around the pastures and bucking like a baby.  We thought all was well but after two rides Bob's knees were once again unstable.

I snapped this picture just before I unsaddled Bob for the last time.  I had decided to retire Bob and I was heartbroken.  In this picture Bob seemed to feel the same.

I moved to a Lesson Horse for two rides before the owner took him back for her own use.  Without the resources to purchase another horse, I searched to ride another horse without luck.  I spent my summer sitting out in the pasture with Bob while he grazed.  I'd stand by him in silence while we looked out across the fields.  It was hard to watch Bob once again galloping and bucking around the fields and know I couldn't ride him.

Although our relationship became deeper and we achieved that special level where we can now communicate in silence, the crack in my mantra got wider.  I've always looked at the glass of life as being half full.  I was surprised (and disgusted) to find myself now viewing it as half empty.  And another birthday totally depressed me.  I was having a real pity party feeling sorry for myself.

Last weekend I spent time with my Cowgirl Pals who were riding in a schooling show nearby.  Something about being around my old friends gave me a good shake.  Driving home I asked myself how come Bob can fly around the fields on stable knees but not with me on him? 

It doesn't make sense.

And I knew what I must do.  I had never proceeded to go down the costly road of diagnostics (x-rays, ultrasounds, etc.) on Bob's knees.  I had told myself that it wouldn't matter because his knees were shaking and unsteady. 

But on that drive home I decided I must pursue these tests.  What if they allowed me to resolve the problem when I've been sitting around feeling sorry for myself?  I would commit the fiscal resources to having the Vet out and take it as far as I could.  One way or the other I would come to closure on Bob. 

The decision ignited the little flicker left in me, bringing back my spark in life.  Here's Bob last week, waiting for the Vet to arrive.  Even Bob looks happier.

The Vet came out last week and we proceeded with x-rays.  The news?  Not all good - but NOT all bad!  The Vet returns this week to continue treatment on Bob and I'll keep you posted on how it's going. 

Making that call and bringing closure to this issue has repaired that crack in my mantra of life.  If it goes well I get Bob back.  If it doesn't go well at least I will know I've done everything I could and can move on in peace knowing I have a great pasture pet. 

So bring that sun around tomorrow and let me spit in the eyes of age once again.  Because never forget, you are only as old as you think you are!

Summer's End

 

It's been a long (dry) summer.  The days have been gorgeous but after 4 months without rain we're ready for a change.  Even though we've had some frosty days I've continued to water my summer plants.  I found this little guy in the flower pot on the table outside our barn.  He's been hanging out there for about a month now.  I named him Alvin.

 

My hanging basket has continued to bloom although the hummingbirds no longer visit.

 

The daisies have started to come up (for a second time).

 

For the past four days every weather report in our area has predicted rain tonight.  Sure enough today there are clouds we haven't seen for months forming on the horizon.   I've taken advantage of the countdown of stormy weather.

I've started stock piling shavings. Always good to have on hand through the winter since many of the feed stores run short around February.

Bob doesn't care for stall life.  He will spend his winter sitting out all but the most dangerous storms in our large and spacious loafing sheds off our pastures.  Bob also doesn't like getting wet so I've put down some shavings, giving him a dry place to lie down.  As you can see Bob does like to throw his hay around.  :)

Gravel is like gold.  We've spread thick gravel next to the loafing sheds so that Bob (and hopefully another horse in our near future) have a place to stand off the (soon to be) muddy pastures.

Today I spread gravel around the gates, where it also gets muddy and can be slippery.

Due to the dry weather Bob has spent his nights in our middle pasture, using the loafing shed pictured above.  At only an acre in size I knew if I needed to get to him in the middle of the night due to an emergency (as in wild fire), I could reach him quickly.

But during daylight hours I've opened the gate and let him wander out into our 3 acre summer pasture.

Around December we'll be closing the summer pasture and let it rest until next year.  Bob (and hopefully a new buddy) will move over to the winter pasture which has sat unused since last April.

Our place is known for high winds.  With 'gusty' winds and heavy rains predicted this weekend it's time to get ready for the change of seasons.  I will sure miss sitting outside the barn while I wait for the water trough fill up each evening.

The furniture is put away, the flower pots are now on their own and will soon be emptied (Alvin is going to need to relocate).  The hanging basket which could launch into a window during high winds has been removed. 

Today is Summer's End.  In the next 24 hours as the rains pound and the wind roars I will encounter that winter feeling of having everything tucked in and knowing we, our place and Bob are safe and sound.  And that's a good feeling.

Too Dry!

I took this picture last winter from inside our front pasture.  It illustrates some of the view we have of the Cascade Mountains.

I took this picture four days ago from outside that same pasture.  The smoke from forest fires on the east side of the Cascade Mountains is blowing over to us who live on the west side of the Cascade Foothills.

It stings your throat and eyes.  I'm just getting over a cold and I have  asthma.  This smoke isn't doing me any favors getting rid of my nagging cough.  I need to stay inside or wear a mask when I go out.  Even in the house I can smell the smoke.

Bob isn't enjoying the smokey haze either.  It gets worse as the day warms up.

Tonight I saw this odd cloud out the window.  Initially I didn't think much of it...except it was coming from the east side of the Cascade Mountains.  But as it grew my curiosity got the best of me and I grabbed my camera and headed outside.

This is smoke from over 100 miles away, from the east side of the Cascades.  The news tonight reports the fires are out of control and growing in strength.

I am thinking of those people and their animals over there tonight and hoping the best for them.  In the meantime with no rain predicted in the near future, we worry.



Mrs. Hawk

Nothing had been said.  Little brother and I didn't notice anything different, probably because we spent our days out in the woods rustling wild horses and outlaws.

But on that day we were called in early for dinner to find Mom and Dad's bags packed and standing by the front door.  I excitedly asked, "Are we going on a vacation?"  The response was to go wash up and leave our cowboy hats and cap guns in our rooms.

As for little sister, at the age of almost three she was in her usual frilly dress.  She never had to wash up cuz she never got dirty.

Little brother and I returned to the living room as a 1954 red and black sedan pulled into our driveway. 

Out stepped Mrs. Hoff.  She had short curly, wired hair.  She wore a dress accompanied by the durable black shoes of a working woman in the 1950's.  She had glasses and behind them were beady gray eyes of steel which showed no emotion.

She walked with purpose.  She marched into the house and straight up to my parents, briskly shaking their hands. 

Mom turned and introduced us.  Mrs. Hoff gave each of us a brisk nod.  There was no smile on her face.  No word was spoken. 

And I knew right then and there. 

I didn't like her. 

She reminded me of a Hawk and from that day forward we would refer to her behind her back as Mrs. Hawk.

With formalities over, Dad announced that he and Mom were taking a trip.  They would be away on a boat for most of the summer entertaining clients who used the services of the small tug boat company our family owned.

While they were away Mrs. Hawk would be taking care of us.  We were told to behave and listen to Mrs. Hawk.  And with those words along with hugs and kisses, off our parents went, walking out the door with Mrs. Hawk, who returned alone with her bag.

We children were stunned.  It all happened so fast that we didn't have time to react (probably planned that way).  Mrs. Hawk had us quickly moving.  She directed little brother and I to take baths and return in clean PJ's.  She ordered us to remove our beloved Cowboy Boots and place them in the garage.  She informed us that boots would no longer be allowed in the house.

We returned to find Mrs. Hawk cooking dinner.  She stood over the stove with a cigarette dangling from the side of her mouth.  Mrs. Hawk's cigarettes stunk as bad as her cooking.

We were sent to bed early that night after being warned that once in bed we were not allowed to get back up.  I lay awake with a child's feeling of doom.

Yet the next morning dawned as only a child can experience it.  I jumped out of bed, happy to be alive and greet the new day.  I pulled on my socks, jeans and favorite cowboy shirt.  Strapped on my cowboy belt and slid my cap gun in the holster.  I grabbed my cowboy hat and went in search of my boots and "grub".

I came upon Mrs. Hawk in the kitchen, once again at the stove with a cigarette in her mouth.  She took one look at me and her eyes turned as cold as -35 degree steel. 

Instead of the morning greeting I was used to, the words out of her mouth were, "Back!  Back to your room to change!!  You are to wear a dress!  Little girls do not dress like boys!!!  Now go!!!!!!"

Oh boy did I go...back to my room as fast as my little legs could carry me.  I did what I was told, putting on that stinkin, scratchy dress and squeaky tight shoes.  With head and eyes downcast I returned to the kitchen to eat what I could of a terrible, cold, runny egg breakfast.

Little brother lucked out.  It was ok for him to dress like our Cowboy Heroes.  He had already left, out to fight the bad guys for another day.  As for me?  My day would be spent silently helping Mrs. Hawk clean. 

It was a tough day for a six year old.  No matter what I was directed to do, it was never done right or good enough.  By the end of the day I was exhausted.

Day two was the same as day one.  It was agony to see the kids come home for lunch and return to run the miles of woods across the road from our house.  I spent the second day silently doing whatever Mrs. Hawk told me to do and listening to her criticize my well intended efforts.

On Day three I came to breakfast in the same dress I'd worn two days prior.  Mrs. Hawk was on me like the name I'd given her.  "That dress - you have already worn it!  Go put on a different one!!"  I replied in a subdued voice that I only had two dresses and I was only supposed to wear them when we went to Church.

Mrs. Hawk looked at me in disbelief and marched into my bedroom, throwing open the closet doors to see for herself.  When she returned and I could see she was angry. 

But terror turned to happiness when she briskly said, "You may change into your jeans and...your...other...clothes.  You may go join the other children - Just go!!!"

Didn't take me more than one minute to be changed and on my way.

The days of summer passed and as children do, we adapted as best we could.  I could sense Mrs. Hawk didn't like me anymore than I liked her.  I could tell she didn't care one way or the other about little brother.  But she adored little sister.

One day Mrs. Hawk informed us that on the following day we'd be taking a trip to British Columbia, a short distance away.  She told us we would try to meet up with our parent's boat, which was due to dock for the day in the area.

We were going to get to see Mom and Dad!  Little brother and I talked.  We were sure that when Mom and Dad saw how unhappy we were that they'd save us from Mrs. Hawk.  With little sister in the front seat and little brother and I in the back we headed out on our journey the next morning.

The back seat of Mrs. Hawk's car was soft and we sank down so low that little brother and I could barely see over the front seats and front window.  We spent most of our time looking out the side windows but soon became bored.

Boredom led to fidgeting, fidgeting led to kicking, kicking led to pinching and pinching led to starting to hit each other.  Mrs. Hawk, with her trusty cigarette hanging out of her mouth told us to immediately stop or she'd turn around and we wouldn't get to see our parents.

We settled back down and soon came to the Canadian border.  We kids knew the drill having traveled to Canada many times.  You stop and talk to the nice man and he lets you into his country.  Same for coming back into the United States.

Brother and I had a game we played when we went into Canada.  We held our breath as long as we could when we entered into Canada.  The one who held their breath the longest "won".

As we passed into Canada there was a heated debate between us as to who had held their breath the longest.  The debate went straight to pinching, which led to an all out slug fest.

Suddenly we felt the car speeding up and turning sharply.  We were turning around!  Mrs. Hawk announced that we were returning home and we would not get to see our parents on this day.

Upon hearing her words, little sister started crying, "I want my Mommieeeee and Daddieeeeee!!!!"  Followed by, "I have to go Pottieeeeeee!!"

Mrs. Hawk put the pedal to the metal and the car took off at full speed back down the road we'd just come.

...And right past the nice man whom you are supposed to stop and talk to before you enter into the United States. 

The nice man started jumping up and down and waving his arms.  Little brother and I looked at each other, wide eyed and with O's for mouths.

We didn't go much further when through little sister's screams we would hear a siren.  Little brother and I turned to look out the back window to see a police car with lights flashing following us.

But Mrs. Hawk paid no mind.  A few moments passed and I said, "Mrs. Hoff?  I think the policeman is following you."  She ignored me and kept driving.

A few more moments and the policeman was now next to Mrs. Hawk motioning her to pull over.  Little brother and my eyes were now as huge as saucers and our mouths were wide open.  We wondered if Mrs. Hawk was going to jail.

Mrs. Hawk pulled the car over.  Above the wails of little sister we could hear Mrs. Hawk say she was very sorry she hadn't stopped and then something about terrible children.

Whatever she said appeased the officer and off we went at a more sedate speed, in silence all the way home.  We'd lost our opportunity to have our parents save us.  We were surely doomed.

Summer continued and somehow we all survived.  The day finally came when Mom and Dad returned.  Little brother, sister and I rushed out to greet them, jumping up and down with joy while Mrs. Hawk stood like a sentry in the doorway.

Mom and Dad told Mrs. Hawk how pleased they were to see their children so happy and hoped she'd return the following summer.

Note:  Although we told our parents how unhappy we'd been with Mrs. Hawk, she did return for a few weeks the second summer.  We again shared with our parents how unhappy we'd been.

That was the last time we saw Mrs. Hawk.

A Long Time

I spotted them out of my left eye as they came speeding towards me.

 

My only thought before they got to me was, "I bet they are brothers".

 

The first one missed me by a hair's breath.

 

The second one misjudged his distance.

 

He collided with me.

 

Hitting me on my left temple.

 

You know, that soft spot next to your eye.

 

I heard his frustration.

 

I felt his anger.

 

He moved to the corner of my left eye.

 

I screamed, pushing him back to his original location.

 

I screamed again.

 

So loud that I'm sure I could be heard for miles.

 

This time in agony.

 

At the searing pain.

 

 

 

Dang!  It had been a long time since I'd been stung by a bee!!