Harsh Realities

Instead of playing with me on this glorious weekend (well, glorious until the rain started, anyway), Mother was off ghost sitting. And Corgi sitting. And Manatee sitting, Melon sitting, and Jack Russel Terrorist sitting, but worst of all, she spent many minutes giving cookies and hay and water to other horses!

One of them she claims is very near and dear to her heart. She laments that she can't bring him home to retire him, as she is short of funds. He still is ride-able, and small jumps occasionally, but his people would be happy for Mother to have him, giving him an easier life and them more stall room.

I wish she would bring him here... I would chase him and batter him and show him and Mother that I am the most important horse!

I mean really, how can she take this seriously? Look at him! What a doofus! That tree isn't hiding him.

And he's afraid of cameras! All Mother does is take pictures with that little flashy thing. And clippers, and you know Mother spends lots of time managing my surplus hair with the clippers. He could never make her happy the way I do... I'm sure she doesn't want to ride or pet on him, just because she's known him for 18 years and taught him to jump many years ago and blah blah blah.

I am the important one, Mother. Don't you forget!

Mr. Snuggleupagus

I was lying snug and warm in the freshly cleaned run-in yesterday late afternoon, meditating on all the things I have to be grateful for, like a belly full of warm mush and hay, a dry place to get out of the weather should I choose, a Mother and Aunts who care for me and make sure the food is given to us in a timely fashion...

When much to my surprise Mother appeared. At first I blinked in some confusion. The Aunts had already fed me, so I didn't expect to see Mother. Was I dreaming? No, I am sternal... she looked slightly distressed, and smelled funny but familiar. I was laying on my left side, and she kept staring longingly at that hip. She even sort of ran her left hand along under there.She pet me and kissed my nose. Well, thanks Mother, that's nice... is that odd but familiar smell perhaps some treat for me?

She half draped herself over my neck and back, hugging me. "Uh, can't breath here, Mother. I'm already crushing my lungs with my own weight, I don't need your help." She pet me awhile longer, although still only with her left hand.

I sighed, Mother stepped out of the way, and I lurched to my feet.

Mother instantly seemed very happy, and started smearing my left stifle with a funny smelling cream hidden in her right hand. Ah, yes, I know that smell! Mother puts this stuff on my leg and makes it feels less ouchy. Why, thank you, Mother.

May I have a cookie? I got up and everything... Mother sighed, walked out to the porch, and brought me out a Mrs. Pastures cookie.

So much to be grateful for...

No rest for the wicked, or me

Mother came up to see me tonight, rather late in the evening for her at this time of year. I had actually already given up on the thought of seeing her today.

She took me out on to the barn porch, which unfortunately still let the fine mist that was coming down to blow on my face.

 Unnnhhh... I'll just stand farther back here. 

Oh, wait, I can lick the rain...

OK, this kind of isn't fun at all. Why are you taking my picture when it's all dark and gross out? And I am wearing the washed out pinkish looking halter, and you have it adjusted all slovenly, Mother. 

Can't I just go eat dinner?

Unless... wait, are there cookies involved?

I just want one. Better yet,  two. Cookies aren't too much to ask, are they?

Then Mother decides that my prominent brow ridge is interesting. Oh, by the way, look at how well my mane recovered from last year's bush-hogging. Some might never guess...

She started talking about my bony protuberance and how people who say that that cartoon horse shouldn't have eyebrows need to look at my head.

 I have no idea what she is talking about.

Seriously, Mother, can we just GET ON with whatever you are planning to do?

Oh, no, there's more fiddling with the camera, and settings.

OK, that flash is just a little too bright. I am now blind in my right eye.

Come on, this is boring!

She did give me a few Herballs after she picked my hooves and curried me everywhere. Then Mother gave me a nice (but all too brief) massage. She made my dinner, which was particularly perfect... It almost smells like apple pie with cinnamon while it is soaking. Yummm!

 And I got one Mrs. Pastures cookie and about 5 or 6 Herballs as I went out for my hay, so life is pretty good... even if I did have to endure some bizarre mid-night photo fest.

Invasion of Privacy

Hanging with Belle in the run-in, autumn 2011

Friday evening Mother came up after dark to brush me and feed me. She thought I was moving rather s-l-o-w-l-y, and seemed rather grumpy.

Hurrmph. I am fine, this is no concern of yours, Mother, and please make sure the donkey knows to keep an eye out for wolves. Not that the wolves would see anything that would single me out or anything...

Oh, so back to Friday night. She lunged me briefly, and I admit I was an unenthusiastic participant, although of course obedient and well behaved. This made her comment. She also made comments about which leg I was resting. Oh, stop staring at me already!!

She put some of the funny yummy powder on my dinner along with my usual stuff, and I admit I was looking at the world with a better mindset when she came to visit yesterday. I trotted with much less urging when asked, although Mother only wanted a lap or two in both directions.

She kind of ruined my better mood by saying she was going to start giving me a bunch of shots, hopefully starting later this week. She claims they will make me feel better. But if they aren't going to send me to my Happy Place, I don't really see how they could.

She should just stay up here when I want her to, to hand me cookies and brush me and pet me. Those are nice distractions. 

She said something about ghost-sitting during the long holiday this coming week. She better still come up to see me...

sniff
sniff

Schooling: A Literary Excursion

       Schooling

She pulls and chafes,
   champs at the bit,
      sweat dampens her sides
   restive in restraint,
fretful, angry, nervous
not lightly waiting for command -
   for she had come to the test
        ready, eager,
                            keen
as the spur bit in her side -
 when after one great,
                          glorious bound
  the haul at her mouth
          brought her to knees
              then full to the ground.

She rises again, on wary feet
   now knowing what to expect
lost is her will for the challenge
     left now only bitterness


Mother is apparently feeling grumpy. It's just as well she didn't come for a visit tonight.

A Series of Ordinary Events

It has been a very busy few days for me. Mother provided our foodstuffs at all the feeding times this weekend, as the aunts and mystery uncle were nowhere to be seen. She gave me some paste on Sunday afternoon (a little blech-y but not awful) and then a perfect dinner.

It has been warm the last few days, and my winter coat has been a bit of a disadvantage. Sigh.

Yesterday the veterinarian came and gave me some shots in the neck, but none of them sent me to my Happy Place. I don't mind them too much, though, because he is a nice guy and sometimes he does send me to my Happy Place, so it is best to stay on his good side.

It was warm and rainy, and then a huge deluge of a storm hit in the evening.

Today the hoof man was here to work on my hoovies. It was rather a humorous affair, as the donkey came in to watch and kept hovering directly over my right foot while the hoof man tried to work. Mother caught fat donkey and tied him up, since he will bang incessantly if you put him in a stall, even with food.

So I'm standing there watching the fat donkey attempt to pace while tied and then I hear hoof beats approaching from the rear. Callie and Bert appeared in the doorway of the barn, wanting entry to their favorite stall to hang out in. Mother stood back there and continually hazed them away, as shutting the barn door would have diminished the light the hoof man needed.

Other than the dancing donkey and the dancing Mother, it was an uneventful trim. Mother put me in a stall and gave me a bit of hay while she prepared my dinner. Tonight's dinner was super good, and as warm as I can eat without making the inside of my mouth hurt. I really like when my dinner is all warm and yummy.

I realized there is something I really, really want:

A heated feed pan

I like my dinner warm and on the sloppier side than the others like their feed soaked~ the closer to gruel the better. The problem during these cooler months is that the food, while perfect temperature when first presented to me, rapidly cools into a less appetizing cold slop during the time it takes me to slurp it all down. If Mother could find a good way to keep it at that perfect temperature all during my dining experience, that would be great.

Mother says she is unable to find any commercially available heated feed pans of a type suitable for horses. I think she might not be looking hard enough. Or she needs to get a manufacturer to make one. Or she needs to design something for me here at home. Perhaps a well insulated feed pan, preheated especially for me?

I don't want to be any trouble, though...

Soft

Mother is going a bit soft in the head. Daft in her dotage. Or just plain losing it, I'm not sure which it is.

Tonight, Mother was commenting on how cold it was... sure it's a bit windy, which can make it feel worse, but it's not bad. It's actually quite nice. Mother was saying how she almost wished she had blankets for me. She would love to bundle me up in a snuggly blanket...

What??!?

Uh, Point 1: I am from North Dakota. I may not grow as much coat down here in Ohio because it's the South and all, but I certainly have enough to get me through your measley peasley excuse for a winter.
Point 2: As you are so fond of pointing out, Mother I don't do anything. So it's not like I'll sweat up and be hard to cool out and thus need less coat for work and substitute coat when I'm not working. I'm always not working.
Point 3: Even if I was working, as you've noticed, Mother, I dry really fast, even if wet to the skin in my winter woolies. So I wouldn't need less coat for work and thus would not need a substitute coat, either.    
Point 4: If you ever come near me with anything that looks like this, I will kill you. And no jury in the country would convict me.

At least the horse is blindfolded so he can't see his humiliation.

A Younger Me

Mother found this on her deceased camera. It is from her second visit to my old ND home. She still hadn't really decided to commit to me and was taking videos and making comments to review later. I had already visited with Mother a bit that day, so was comfortable with her just walking up like this.

Note right before Mother moves my forelock, it is actually as long as my nostrils. Sigh. I miss it sometimes.
 

Once I really met Mother, ie she pet me that summer day on her first visit , I knew she was my person. I just had to wait while she figured it out. The second day of that autumn trip, she brought one of the hay women with her. I wouldn't let them near me. When Mother approached by herself, I was happy to visit with her; then the other human could come up. I was like that for a really long time, weeks actually, using Mother as my buffer, until I realized that humans were not going to eat me, and are (mostly) OK.

Mixed Blessings

You may have noticed that some of my recent posts have not been current events in my life. That is because, well, Mother is a worrywart. She has been having trouble determining if I am not doing as well, comfort-wise, as she wants. Then last week as we walked my postal route, she noted that I was walking a bit shorter on one of my hind legs. The non-surgered leg, to be precise.

I admit I have been reluctant about certain activities, like walking the hills of the postal route. I apparently seem "grumpier than usual" at times to Mother. That is a lack of Mrs. Pastures cookies, Mother. All those other cookies (while tasty and delectable and I appreciated them) for months and months has caused a "Mrs. Pastures cookies' deficiency". Grumpiness is a manifestation.

MPCD is not a condition to take lightly.

In trying to determine a cause, Mother has fine toothed all the aspects of my care. She had changed my joint and comfort supplements from SmartPak to something else from SmartPak that was supposed to replace the Repair and TLC, and even added some other other joint things. She is going to switch back to exactly what I was on earlier this year. She isn't sure if it is the change of supplements (as I've been switched for about two and a half months), but she would be very happy if this proves to be the reason.

Not content to concentrate on one reason at a time, she worries that it is perhaps an indication that my degenerative cartilage is in fact bilateral as many of those things can be, and the right side just wasn't as bad as the left (so not visible on xray) at the time of surgery. I did have arthritic changes in my left hock when xrays were taken in 2009. When I had my left stifle surgery, the hospital shot fresh films of both stifles, showing nothing on the right stifle at that time. They didn't take hock pictures, so it's possible I have arthritis on the right as well as the left, or crummy cartilage in the right stifle, or whatever else her diseased brain can come up with to worry about.

In her concern for me, a few weeks ago Mother had given up the grand experiment and had the farrier out to do my hoovies. He reassured her that she had done me no harm, and he had seen worse work by professionals. My balances weren't exactly how he had kept them, but the adjustments he made were not much and I felt fine afterwards. No improvement in my "grumpy" attitude, so that is one possible reason that she has dismissed.

The results of her neurosis as I see them:
I still putter about the pasture.
I still putter about (supervised) on the lawn.

Proposed changes:
Will continue having the farrier man do my hooves now.
Will go back to my previous supplements and see if it helps.
Mother will not ride me for my once or twice monthly 5 minute jaunts anymore.
No more postal route, due to the hills.
Possibly add Adequan in addition to the supplement routine.

Gosh, walk three or four inches shorter on one side and you'd think the world is ending! Cookies will fix it, they fix everything.

Which reminds me of the most important change: Mother has bought me a nice big bag of Mrs.Pastures again, just today! Since I've been staying svelte and I eat my IR powder and I have shown no signs of trouble since "the incident", she says I can have ONE Mrs. Pastures from time to time now.

RAPTURE!

Cookies!.. er, um, cookie... YUMMM!!!!

Sharing: It's not for Everything

Mother has some issues. She is a rather anonymous sort. She blames it on her time "in the service" and fear of identity theft, etc. etc. ad naseum, ex post facto...


Where was I?



Oh, so while she tries to maintain a certain amount of anonymity, she uses me as her shield. My name is the one on CoTH and Facebook, and comments on other blogs, but I am not usually the one saying things. This could get me in hot water, you know? I mean, it would be one thing for her to play Jeopardy! on Facebook under my name... but what if I am selected?

I don't know the answers to all those questions! I don't know how to work that buzzer thingy! Why can't Mother get her own life and stop borrowing my things??

sigh.

How many cookies can $36,681 buy?