Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all!

Your friend,

Pookey Bear

The Well-Dressed Horse

In what is certainly a first for me, I am finding that I am not experiencing buyers remorse over the gorgeous Schneiders hunter-green blanket I invested in last year for Pookey.

The thing is gorgeous.

It looks like it did the day I took it out of the box, with nary a mark on its smooth denier surface, and plenty of loft. It repels dirt and grime, and when it can't repel any longer, coughs up the dirt with just one swipe of a wet cloth.

Last winter it fit his super-sized body like a glove. Now that he is once again lean, the bellyband with its handy velcro closure keeps the blanket snug against his frame, while the generous wither pocket allows me to tighten down the Adjust-A-Fit neck to his smaller size.

No question about it--Schneiders sure got it right with this blanket.

So right, in fact, that I am ordering him a matching neck cover, to keep that little pencil neck sleek for the early spring shows.

Shhhhh.....

Don't tell his banker!!!

The 'eyes' have it...

In my endless quest to create the perfect living conditions for Mr Wonderful, I am once again struggling with how much turnout to allow.

Too much, and I fear that he will pound around on those delicate feet too hard and make himself sore.

Too little, and he fails to move enough to stimulate good hoof growth, and may go stir crazy, to boot.

So I let Pookey have a say in the matter. We were democratic, and voted. Me against more turnout, Pookey 'for.'

Take a look at that lovely pleading brown eye and tell me you could refuse his plea?

Needless to say, the 'eyes' have it!

More joggin'

I just can't help myself.

Pookey Bear is jogging so nicely in his boots, I simply had to post another short clip.

I know. This makes close to a dozen round-pen clips I've posted, and they all look pretty much the same.

So humor me, okay?

Here it is: 'Scrawny Bay Horse, Jogging, Redux.'

Happy Horse!

It is hard to believe that just one short year ago we were living in Laminitis Land.

Today, amazingly, we have a healthy, happy horse!

Pookey Bear just got back from a visit to his farrier Joe at La Mesa, where he got a 'touch up' trim on his nearly-grown out feet. He still has an inch or so to go on his right front before he is standing on nice new growth, and solidly attached hoof wall, but his left front is almost completely grown out, and his movement has improved accordingly!

I snapped the photo above as he was enjoying a big bowl of soaked Ontario Dehydrated Timothy Balance Cubes (Triple Crown Feeds) during his afternoon turnout time in his round pen. Green oak tree, deep blue sky, happy horse! Note the lovely chiseled features, no longer obscured by layers of insulin-driven 'puffiness.'

Pookey's low-carb diet worked so well for him that hubby and I were compelled to try it, and after six months, between the two of us we have lost almost as much weight as the horse did.

(Of course my features don't look quite as chiseled, but who's complaining?)

We are now intensifying our rehab efforts to try to build back some of that lost muscle over Pookey's hip and hindquarters. Our goal is to get him fit enough to do showmanship again, perhaps by next spring. He would love to hop in the trailer to go somewhere besides the vet clinic. And he would love to bask in the glow of the adoring crowds again (well, okay, the handful of spectators who clap), instead of just being poked, prodded, and x-rayed.

Thanks so much to all of you who have checked on Pookey over the past year and a half, and special thanks to those who were instrumental in helping him heal.

We are so grateful!

Just a quick update to let you know Pookey Bear is well.

He is moving nicely and is only a tad uncomfortable when at rest. His new trim looks great!

His nursemaid, on the other hand, is not doing so well.

The photo above? Nota bene: that middle board is the central beam that runs down the middle of our house, the two side boards are the rafters that tie into it, or should I say, 'tied' into it, as in 'past tense.'

The record drought has wreaked havoc with our house as well as with our hay budget, resulting in (as you see above) the skeleton of the house coming undone.

Ignore the spider. He is the least of my worries.

Also, I have been forced into a computer 'fast' because hubby has decided that excessive computer use has caused me to have some visual/cognitive/concentration problems, resulting in my 'bumping into' one of our cars with another one of our cars...several times...

So I am limited to fifteen minutes a day, except for those tasks that theoretically I can perform without looking at the screen, like typing.

Have you ever tried typing without looking at the screen?

You wind up sending out some really funny e-mails! Don't ask me how I know!

So yesterday, in an attempt to focus on a 'bricks and mortar' type task to improve my concentration, and to save a few bucks, I decided to make my own laundry detergent.

Unfortunately, the recipe did not mention that the primary ingredients--washing soda and Borax--will scrape the surface right off of a $229 saucepan.

Who'd da thunk it?

Pasture? What's that?

After thirty years spent plowing, seeding, watering, mowing, spraying, and fertilizing, this is what I have to show for it: twenty acres of crunchy brown straw, and a series of gaping cracks in the ground that look like a scaled-down version of Palo Duro Canyon.

The cracks are so extensive, and so deep and wide, that I can no longer risk even hand walking Pookey Bear. So he is confined to quarters until it rains, which seems like it might be never.

For fun, and to help offset my feelings of impending agricultural doom, I have been playing a variation of the game we all played as little kids, where we looked up in the sky and imagined the different kinds of animals we saw in the clouds. Only I am using cracks in the ground.

Do you see a coyote in this one? I do. At least I hope it's a coyote, and not The Wolf at the Door...

Praying for rain!

Parched in Texas

Finally Frisky!

After a long absence, I am finally bowing to pressure from the multitudes of followers out there who have been demanding a recent update on Pookey Bear.

Thanks to both of you for caring!

Pookey is doing great, as the attached video clip will attest. His recent trim at La Mesa left him very comfortable afterward, and as long as he remembers to lace up his boots before he leaves his stall, he is having no problems with our drought-hardened, rock-like blackland soil.

Hope the clip works. I am experimenting with iMovie--gee, there's a learning curve!--and just figured out how to attach sound.

Couldn't figure out how to mute my shouted instructions, however, so please ignore.

The soundtrack might not be totally synched or appropriate, but it was free. Daughter and her talented friend are available for weddings, quinceaneras and bar mitzvahs as long as the gig is within 30 miles of College Station, and pays enough to cover their gas.

Pop-art Appaloosa

Since apps are all the rage these days, I thought I would share my pop-art App, who is enjoying having the entire pasture to himself since Pookey Bear cannot eat grass.

A quick update on Pookey: he seems to be working out of his most recent bout of soreness a bit, and had a good report on his last farrier/doctor visit. I am suspicious that some of his soreness is due to more abscesses forming--will they ever end?

At least he is moving around nicely in his boots again, and he seems to be picking up weight as well. Unfortunately, his caregiver (me) is back to soaking hay--not real convenient when I am in a hurry, but when I have the luxury of time, I fill up his tub, then run the cool water down my legs and into my Crocs.

Summertime, and the livin' is easy!

As many of you are painfully aware--because you caught wind of my weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth--Pookey Bear is once again under the weather, having suffered for several days with intermittent colic.

Not to worry! We are now throwing everything but the kitchen sink at him, confident that he will mend.

In the meantime, no new photos--just like those celebrities, he doesn't want to be caught not looking his best!

But we felt it was important to celebrate his birthday with an artist's rendering (courtesy of his 'auntie') and a few words about the glowing report he received at his recent doctor visit.

Thanks to top-flight veterinary care, a fabulous farrier, and an incomparable nurse (that would be me) Pookey Bear's feet are finally starting to look better, both inside and out. He has been feeling better for several months, with most days being completely painfree, and his gait (in boots) being very relaxed and relatively sound. But yesterday's radiographs showed that he is also improving on the inside: he is growing good sole on both feet, his medio-lateral balance is improving, and he grew enough toe in four weeks that Joe actually had to put some muscle into the nippers!

Amazingly, he walked on the concrete at the clinic completely barefoot, and looked very comfortable doing so. It is amazing because it is just eight months after his tendon surgery, and just a few short months since he was still battling acute pain from abscesses. Dr. D and Dr. W have okayed more hand-walking and light hand-jogging to rebuild lost muscle mass. (I assume that will be working for me, too? If Pookey winds up looking like Obvious Conclusion, am I going to wind up looking like Flo Jo? Or is it likely the best I can hope for is Billie Jean King?)

If Pookey could talk (my other half insists he CAN'T!) I know that he would like to thank his farrier, doctors, banker, owners, and friends for all of their help and support.

But I suspect that he might also add the following:

"Today was my 12th birthday. I was hoping for some carrots and a cake. Instead, they hung a bag of fluids on me, threw me in the trailer, hauled me for hours, rasped my achin' dogs, and bombarded me with yet another round of gamma rays. Then one of my doctors--who has always been so nice to me!--stuck his arm someplace I didn't like, and as if that wasn't enough, my caretaker stuck a garden hose someplace else I didn't like after I got home!

"They say they are trying to help me. Yeah, right...thanks a lot for the help! What's gonna happen when I turn 13, a catheterization and a colonoscopy?"

A rope, a round pen, and a little magic

Saturday morning I left Pookey Bear at home munching timothy, and ventured eastward to witness an amazing demonstration of horsemanship.

Our friend Dwayne Rhea, a clinician from Sulphur Springs, was conducting a mini-clinic at a veterinary hospital open house, using the black filly pictured above as one of his subjects. We arrived early enough to see her in her natural state in the round pen, wild-eyed, shivering in the howling wind, petrified of everything that moved.

I figured Dwayne had his work cut out for him. It seemed to me as if getting her to lead--or just to drop her head--would be amazing enough, but getting her to load willingly in a trailer, as the demonstration promised? I'd have to see it to believe it!

Amazingly, in a little less than an hour, he did just that. Not only was the filly quiet and relaxed through the head and neck, and following him around like a puppy dog, she also loaded happily into the trailer, multiple times, without a hint of fear. Most remarkable of all, the final time he loaded her, he did so after removing her halter and lead!

To someone who has to beg their been-there-done-that gelding to please, please, puh-leeze get in the trailer (Puh-leeze? Where are the carrots? Where are my helpers? Where is the broom, and the buggy whip?) it was an incredible feat. And he did it all without whips or pulleys or gimmicks--simply by gaining her trust, and showing her what he wanted.

No question about it--as soon as Pookey's feet grow out another couple of inches, we are working on loading, and--if the stars align--maybe even on backing out of the trailer! If I can get him to do that happily, willingly, and calmly, I figure I might just take my show on the road.

Dwayne, could you use someone to 'open' for you?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Asking her to move her hindquarters

"Oh, so that's what you want!"

The Reward

Me, not so much...

Pookey Bear had an absolutely wonderful, stupendous day yesterday!

Me, not so much.

I woke up at the crack of dawn to head over to a surgical center in Fort Worth, where I was taking my sister to have her gallbladder removed. This brought back a flood of unhappy memories from my gallbladder surgery 20 years ago: suffering the agony of repeated attacks, writhing in pain in the hospital bed while they waited for my lab numbers to get decent enough to operate, enduring life-threatening complications after a botched surgery--and, to add insult to injury, sticking rigidly to the recommended diet afterwards, only to pack on 45 pounds in one year.

Not a happy time!

Fortunately my sister was in good health to start with, and--as the doctor predicted--her surgery went great.

So great, in fact, that within twenty minutes of being wheeled into recovery, she was standing up and drinking a Coke!

When the young doctor bounced in with photos of her innards, he spent a great deal of time waxing eloquent about what incredible shape she was in, how absolutely remarkable that a woman her age had such a youthful body, that he had called over other doctors and nurses to share in his amazement, and that they had all insisted upon seeing her chart, to verify that she was in fact not a twenty-year-old, which her lithe, athletic frame seemed to declare.

I stood silently by, trying to blend my pasty, wrinkled, XXXL frame into the wallpaper, hoping I would escape the scrutiny of the flat-bellied medical team.

But no! One of the nurses turned to me with my sister's bag of belongings, and said,

'Here, Mom, why don't you hold onto these while your daughter gets dressed.'

Mom?!?

Given her age, that would put me in my seventies!

Needless to say, this facility will not be receiving a donation from me during this year's fund-raising drive!

It's official!

Yes, it's official!

Pookey Bear is on the mend.

His visit to the doctor/farrier last week went very well, and Joe just sanded off a bit of hoof here and there, working mostly on his long toes. Then, when his appointment was over, he was able to walk barefoot on the concrete, and he has been walking sound ever since!

We even got the go-ahead to practice a little bit of showmanship just for fun, and to start the process of weaning him out of his Soft Ride boots while he is in the comfort of his deeply-bedded stall. That process is going very well; he is up to about an hour a day completely barefoot with no ill effects. I also have increased his 'turnout' time in the round pen, but I am battling the grass, so he still must wear his muzzle.

Why is it that grass will grow everywhere you don't want it to grow, but it refuses to grow where you want it?

At any rate, we are thrilled with his progress, and have been celebrating each small milestone along the way!

Now, for some photos. The first is Pookey today, in all of his sleekness. The second shot was taken exactly one year ago, just a few weeks prior to his founder. Note the dapples, the apple rump, the cresty neck, and the 250 extra pounds he was carrying!

For all of you 4-Hers, 4-H parents, and other competitive adults: take a shot at guessing his body condition scores, before and after.

The official answer will appear in our next post.

The judge?

Pookey's banker, Dr. Allen.

The prize?

A week's supply of beet pulp!

May 2011

May 2010

Stay tuned...

Incredibly happy, exciting news about The Pookster's latest appointment coming tomorrow!

Being a bit gun-shy, I wanted to wait 24 hours before posting, to be sure all was well.

IT IS!

Show me the protein!

Here is a photo of Mr. Wonderful's 'bad' foot, looking...well, looking pretty wonderful!

He continues to motor around well, and appears to be relatively pain-free. Both of his Girls were home over Easter, and pronounced him 'great'!

Tomorrow he will visit Joe the Farrier for a good old fashioned rasping, and hopefully, he will once again be good to go!

As for me, I have been falling down on the job.

After my hay-hauling debacle I decided to start on the Dukan diet, which is surprisingly similar to Pookey's: no sugars, no carbs of ANY kind, no fat, only high-quality, lean protein and (after the 'attack' phase) low-fat veggies, and lots of water.

This means that my gastronomical options taste about as good as soaked and rinsed bermuda-grass hay: pretty lifeless and unappealing.

Of course I have somehow managed to scarf down enough water, heavily peppered chicken, and fresh spinach that I have NOT lost weight on the attack phase. My manual assures me that I WILL lose weight on the attack phase, as many as ten pounds.

I am not sure what I am doing wrong, but I will persevere.

I am weak as a kitten and am prowling around like one as well, waiting to pounce on any unclaimed scraps of protein, but come September 1st, by golly, I am going to look like Kate Middleton!

Pookey says when that day comes, I am welcome to ride him. We will go galloping through the pasture, the wind blowing through our glorious manes, racing alongside the flying pigs...

Hay Run

First, three seemingly unrelated facts:

1) Six months ago, I quit going to the gym;

2) Six weeks ago, I ran out of asthma meds;

3) Yesterday, my horses ran out of hay.

Thanks to Fact No. 3, I woke up this morning determined to pick up 30 or so bales of hay from Mr. Lewis in Canton. To that end, I arose bright and early, hooked up the trailer, and headed south.

Hubby was unable to accompany me due to ‘prior commitments,’ but as a demonstration of his undying affection, he did throw a spare tire in the bed of the pickup, along with our very best high-lift jack.

Additional seemingly unrelated fact:

4) The wind was howling like a banshee.

After wandering around Canton for a bit, I found Mr. Lewis’s office, got the key to the barn, and jumped back in the truck, feeling very optimistic about loading those 30 bales of hay all by my lonesome.

My optimism dimmed a bit when I arrived at the hay farm and eyeballed the setup. After wrestling the locks on a couple of gates I approached the hay barn, which was incredibly massive, with doors the size of the Brandenburg Gate. Unfortunately the barn faced south, the direction the gale-force wind was blowing from, and I had a terrible time battling the wind as I struggled to swing open the first door.

Using all of my weight as leverage I eventually dragged it out forty-five degrees or so to the point of no return, when the wind caught it and slammed it back against the barn. Leaning against the trailer to rest, I realized that opening the second door was going to be impossible—there was too much dirt piled up in front of it, and I didn’t bring a shovel. The trailer would have to stay where it was; I would be carrying the hay bales out.

So I cautiously peered inside.

Being late in the hay year, it was clear that most of the hay that originally had been stacked down the center aisle had been sold, as I saw a yawing black hole in front of me, lined on both sides from floor to ceiling with solid walls of hay. I ventured into the darkness, carefully crunching my way along on the bed of loose straw that lined the floor, moving deeper into the cavernous building.

Finally, near the back wall, I saw an opening to one side where someone had thrown down a few bales of hay. Having forgotten my climbing gear, I began grabbing handfuls of hay and wedging my boot into the tiny openings between bales, working my way up to the seventh or eighth row, where I could see a small flat area. Huffing a bit but feeling empowered, I triumphantly stood up, only to shoot straight down as my boot slipped into a crack between bales.

After clawing my way back upright, I felt my way around to find a solid bale to stand on—it was too dark to actually see, but tiny pinpricks of light were peeking in through old nail holes in the tin, so I was able to navigate a bit by feel and a bit by sight. Of course with each cautious step I took toward the loose bales in back, I could see clouds of dirt, dust, and pollen rising up off the bales and drifting along through the stuffy inside air. I began coughing a bit, reflexively, berating myself for letting my asthma meds run out, and for not bringing along a bottle of water.

Feeling my way along the wall, I was able to locate a stack of bales that I could pull from. Of course I had forgotten my hay hook, and my gloves as well, but thank goodness the strings didn’t hurt like wire did! I carefully placed the first few bales to form a little staircase, then trudged up my makeshift stairs to begin the arduous task of tossing hay down.

A couple of dozen bales into the job, I sat down to take a break.

It was midday. The temperature in the barn had climbed up into the nineties; the air was so filled with particulate matter I could almost feel it bumping against my face. I realized I had been working for nearly an hour, and did not have a single bale on the trailer, which was so far away from me I could barely see it, parked outside the doorway, taunting me.

I opted to begin Phase Two of the job, which involved trudging across the ‘floor’ of hay bales to toss my keepers over the side. Hitching the first bale up on my hip, I stepped toward the alleyway, only to plunge straight down in another hole. But this time, I had the bale I was carrying to use as a counterweight to pull me out!

I somehow managed to roll it to the edge of the stack, where a push sent in crashing down into the darkness below.

One down, twenty-four to go.

My work soon fell into a comfortable rhythm: yank, heave, step, crash, claw, hitch, cough, heave, push. For a fat, asthmatic fifty-four-year-old woman, I made surprisingly short work of those sixty-pound hay bales. An uncontrolled slide down the wall of hay to the bottom left me only a little breathless, and I eyed the distance between me and the trailer as I initiated Phase Three: carrying the bales out of the barn.

Did I mention that I had not been to the gym in quite some time? Or that my chronic health problems have rendered me quite weak in both the upper body and legs?

Thank goodness my core is fine!

I clocked myself carrying the first bale to the trailer at two minutes. The transport process went something like this: lift, cough, step, cough, rest, lift, cough…

By the time I finished the first dozen bales, I was sweating like a pig, and sucking in huge lungfuls of air every time I broke through the doors.

I sat down to rest on one of the bales, knowing that it might be a mistake, if I got too comfortable, or if my joints froze up and I was unable to move. Moments later I had popped back up and went back in for another bale. This process continued for quite some time, with decreasing efficiency and increasing coughing, until finally I had all of the bales outside.

Time for Phase Four.

I knew that this would be the hardest phase: getting the bales up in the truck, and on the trailer.

There was a time when I would have ‘tossed’ them in.

This was not that time.

I pushed, pulled, twisted, and torqued, and somehow managed to get the first few bales in the back of the truck. Hopping up in myself, I began my stacks as per hubby’s instructions, keeping my tie ropes taught and remembering when to alternate edge, flat, edge, flat. I have no idea where I got the strength to throw that last bale on the tie row, but my oh my, it sure felt good when I stretched out on top of those bales to let the wind blow some of the chaff and sweat off my hair and face!

I lay there panting and coughing for several minutes, before I saw him, hovering just above me: a bumblebee, nearly the size of a ping pong ball, darting about, flapping his wings.

“Ah,” I thought. “A scout bee. How lovely. Surely he will signal the rest of the hive to come attack.”

I carefully slid my cell phone out of my pocket, checking to see how many bars were visible, and wondering if Canton had 911 service yet.

Thank goodness the wind was strong enough it was carrying my fear pheromones off to the south, so with the bee in a holding pattern just inches from my nose, I flipped over and rolled straight off the side of the hay stack, crashing to the ground with only the spare tire and high-lift jack to break my fall.

Urged on by the prospect of an entire hive of bees attacking, I threw myself back into the stacking task, quickly filling up the trailer with the remaining bales.

Closing the door was piece of cake: once I got it halfway, the wind slammed it shut. Of course it hit so hard it broke the 2x4 stop on top so I had to drag it back out from the inside of the barn, then struggle to hold it while I fastened the baling wire/baling twine closure device. I only cut my finger once, while trying to screw the hasp back in using my fingernail after it broke off. I finally just duct taped it back on and dragged myself to the truck, cranking it up and settling back to enjoy the blast of icy air from the vents and the soft cushion of the bucket seat.

I can imagine how attractive I must have looked when I pulled up to Mr. Lewis’s office to drop off the key: hair disheveled and dusty, face covered with grime, hands and shirt blood-encrusted, and cheeks a lovely shade of fire-engine red that you just can’t buy in a bottle.

It was nearly dark when I got home that night.

I heard the horses whinny as I pulled in the drive, and I thought to myself: you will EAT this hay, and you will ENJOY it, and if it has too much sugar or starch in it, you WILL be jogging down the road to burn off those calories!

As for me, I’d already burned my share.

Independence Day!

Finally, the freedom of the round pen, without a grazing muzzle!

As Pookey Bear has continued to improve, we have been taking 'baby steps' regarding turnout. First a 12 x 12 with a muzzle, then a 12 x 12 unmuzzled, then a 12 x 24, and so on.

Yesterday, he had worked up to a 60-foot diameter round pen, with no muzzle!

Since he had a full belly and the wind wasn't blowing too hard, he simply wandered around a bit, watched the bulls for a bit, then took a short nap. He did a few brief token half-rears when I went out to fetch him: this used to strike terror in my heart, but now I am glad to see the occasional rear or two!

Pookey Report: His Highness had a banner day today, walking with ease and even reaching back to nibble on his hind feet occasionally, bearing a full 33 1/3 percent of his weight on his 'bad' right front.

Progress!

The Lovely Miss Lexie...

We had a special visitor this morning: the lovely Miss Lexie, who dropped by with her housemate Casey to say 'howdy.'

Back in '09 , Lexie was the first of Daisy's puppies to leave for her new home. We all missed her terribly, but were thrilled that she found a people-person who will brush her teeth, trim her nails, and buy her premium dog food.

She is very pampered!

And very well-behaved, unlike somebody we know...

Yep, that's Tex, straining at the end of his lead, lunging at his sister and her friend.

How embarrassing.

Pookey Bear watched the 'reunion' from the safety of his stall, thanking his lucky stars that we did not keep all eight of those little heel nippers from the fall of '09!

Hoof update: Pookey is still walking great! He is even slapping a bit and pawing a bit and doing the 'Zenyatta' wave--it is a real challenge keeping him quiet now while those hooves grow good solid attachment, but I figure we only have another year or so to go and we will be in great shape!

Another retro day...

Yet another retro photo, as we bring you up to speed on Pookey Bear's progress...

Amazingly, Pookey has had nearly three solid weeks of complete and total freedom from pain.

Well, from foot pain, that is. Being 12 years old now, and having done a bit of western pleasure in his youth, I am sure he has a few creaky joints and achy bones.

But his feet?

They are fabulous!

At his checkup last week at La Mesa, his radiographs showed good sole depth and continued de-rotation, as well as improvement in his medio-lateral balance. For those of you who are rusty on your Latin, or have misplaced your Stedman's, that roughly translates to being tilted from 'middle to side.' Now, intead of listing like the Tower of Pisa, he is beginning to stand up straighter on his bony column in the RF, which will help apply more normal mechanical forces to the foot and therefore encourage more normal growth.

It is a good thing that Pookey has a great farrier. I would be very frustrated with the continual adjustments needed on a recovering laminitis case, especially when a tenotomy adds an additional layer of adjustments to the adjustments.

I would also be continually frustrated by the 'chicken and egg' nature of the problem: the worse the horse's original problem, the more out of balance the hoof is. The more out of balance the hoof is, the more abnormal the mechanical forces applied to the hoof during weight-bearing. The more abnormal the forces applied to the hoof during weight-bearing, the more out of balance the hoof grows.

I think I will just stick to herding cats!

La Vida Dolce

Somebody is enjoying his outdoor stall and hay bag once again!

Pookey continues to improve on his RF, walking almost normally even on the concrete alleyway in the barn.

Outside, his step has a bit of a spring to it--a welcome sight!

He has been off of NSAIDs for several days now, and seems to be continually improving. So we are going to proceed cautiously with the status quo for a few more days and then re-evaluate.

In the meantime, he certainly is enjoying the sunshine!

Eeyore says 'things are looking up'

Not everyone has a file photo of a dog atop an 18-foot manure pile.

I thought I would take advantage of this resource, and post a picture of Shorty playing King of the Hill, while I report the good news on Pookey Bear.

My failure to post updates for the past few days is due to the criticism I have received from certain twenty-somethings, who tell me that my reports often remind them of Eeyore, Winnie the Pooh's dear donkey friend who suffered greatly from the vicissitudes of life.

Can I help it if the horse is sore?

I would dearly love to be able to report, "Well, we saddled up and went riding today!" or "Pookey ran a 15.4 last night--his times are just getting better and better!"

But real life doesn't always work that way. It has its ups and downs.

Fortunately for Pookey Bear, he is once again entering an 'up' phase. After a great deal of soreness last week, he finally is perking back up, and is walking nicely once again.

I am being very careful to keep the Soft Ride boot he is wearing on his RF from twisting; so far, it seems to be affording him enough protection and cushion that he is once again comfortable both at rest and in motion.

Tomorrow, photos!

Today, an observation from Eeyore:

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.

"So it is."

"And freezing."

"Is it?"

"Yes," said Eeyore.

"However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."

Come in! Stay out! Come in!

I love this sign, which stands just outside the arena complex in Lufkin, Texas.

Come in!

Stay out!

Come in!

Talk about mixed messages!

Thankfully Pookey Bear is sending us some clearer, more consistent signs that he is feeling better this morning after a difficult day yesterday.

This morning, he is standing up, eating and drinking, moving around his stall a bit and putting his ears forward when we come into the barn. His respiratory rate has returned to normal, and his stools have switched from 'cow patty' to 'formed.'

(Don't worry, girls-- Al Gore had not yet invented the internet when you girls were born, so Mom didn't have a blog where she could talk about your bodily functions!)

The NSAIDs we gave him yesterday evening appear to have 'kicked in' and helped him feel much better. Hopefully his signs will continue to improve today and tomorrow, and we can shoot some footage of him this weekend walking around in his new shoes!

Thanks!

Thank you for praying for Pookey Bear!

He has now gone three weeks pain-free: no NSAIDs, no hopping around in his stall, no refusal to pick up his other feet.

He will be going in tomorrow for some more work on his RF, which seems to be growing, and is finally carrying enough of his weight that he has worn down his rubber shoe.

More details to follow!

Getting Brave

I am feeling incredibly brave.

Or stupid. Maybe I am incredibly stupid.

Anyway, I finally gutted it up and turned Pookey loose in his outdoor stall, which is basically a few round pen panels hooked to a gate.

In an effort to keep him occupied, I placed his overstuffed hay bag in the corner, and for nearly forty-five minutes he kept his head buried in his hay and never once tried to rear up, kick out, or roll.

If the weather is nice tomorrow, I will be braver and leave him out for an hour or so.

After nearly nine months of being cooped up inside, he could use the Vitamin D!

Afternoon Sunshine

Ah, here it is, an image of His Sleekness enjoying an afternoon in the sun with his hay bag.

He was feeling s-o-o-o good yesterday that he walked on his hind legs for a bit during his afternoon walk. Thank goodness he landed lightly, ready to bounce back up again, placing very little stress on that tender little tendon we have been carefully healing up.

Note the clean appearance of that right leg--so far, he is healing nicely!

We will be trying to keep him on track as he continues to feel better and better each day, and as Spring Fever begins to strike.

A good day!

(Another image from the archives, until Pookey Bear gets his bubble bath and looks presentable. This one is yet another 'horse friend' at OSU-Stillwater.)

O, Happy Day!

Pookey Bear had a fabulous day yesterday, taking two 10-minute walks, and spending more than an hour tied outside at his 'hay station,' enjoying the sunshine.

He continues to bear normal weight on his RF, with the rubber shoe holding up well and the casting material anchoring it in place showing no signs of wear.

To mix metaphors, while he is not out of the woods yet, he can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!

Less bob?

Okay, I think he has less head bob.

Do you think he has less head bob?

I think he has less head bob.

But he may be starting to look emaciated.

Do you think he looks emaciated?

I think he looks emaciated.

Stand-in

Meet Shiner.

Shiner is standing in for Pookey Bear today, because Pookey Bear looks wretched.

Don't be alarmed--health-wise, he is better than he has been in months!

At his check-up yesterday he was walking nicely, so nicely that Joe and Dr. W decided not to even mess with his little rubber shoe.

He even escaped without x-rays--a first!

No, his wretched appearance is not health-related, but rather a management problem.

After three weeks of being cooped up in his stall but being relatively mobile and active, he has ground his beautiful fluffy $having$ down to dust. And because the ground outside was so treacherous that I really couldn't take him out of his stall, I have been unable to strip it and clean it.

The end result is that his whole entire bay body is covered with a fine layer of dust, making him look a wee bit like a grullo (a color I have always admired).

Hopefully, the weatherman who is predicting temps in the seventies this week will be right, and Pookey can have a much-needed bath.

Until then, he will be using a stand-in...

Pony, and Little Girl

A pony walks into a bar and whispers, "Can I have a beer?"

"Sure," the bartender replies. "But why are you whispering?"

"I'm sorry," the pony answers. "I'm just a little hoarse."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Pookey Bear is doing fine today.

Farrier visit tomorrow!

!

Horse. Walking. Normally.

Yippee!

Why the long face?

A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, "So, why the long face?"

After eight full months of practically living in Pookey Bear's stall, I have grown rather good at reading his moods.

Not that I am anthropomorphizing.

That would be terrible.

I would never ascribe human emotions to a horse.

No, these are definitely horse emotions I am reading.

Anyway, yesterday I got Pookey a fabulous new hay net, one with little bitty tiny openings that forces him to work really hard for his hay.

Do you think he likes doing this?

His expression kind of says it all.

He is pin-eared, long-faced, unhappy.

But it is for his own good, as it stretches out the amount of time it takes him to consume his ration, meaning that his gut continues working more continuously, he doesn't panic when he runs out of hay, his blood sugar should be more 'stable,' etc.

We'll see how it goes.

For right now, I am dealing with a very disgruntled horse!

Faux App

Here's Pookey's friend Rita, doing her Appaloosa imitation.

I have no idea how Pookey is doing.

I just throw the hay over the top of the stall a few times a day, splash some boiling water in his frozen bucket, and occasionally attempt to pry some rock-hard manure balls free from the stall floor.

Then I dash back inside to huddle in front of the heater!

I suppose he looks cheerful enough.

We'll know more after the spring thaw, when I venture back out to resume my nursing duties.

Until then, he's going to have to 'buck up'!

Word to the wise...

Word to the wise...

If your fruit-loop Appaloosa has never seen a Corgi in a coat, don't be standing with your back to him in his stall, intently shoveling manure, the first time he sees one.

And for sure don't leave the stall door open so the clueless Corgi can come charging in.

But if worst comes to worse and you find yourself trapped in the stall with a petrified Appaloosa and an equally petrified Corgi racing around you in circles like the Hounds of Hell are on their tails, please make sure that at least one of them understands and heeds a few basic commands such as 'whoa,' 'come,' or 'get out!'

"The Old Soft Shoe"

Here is Pookey Bear and his good buddy Joe, standing outside La Mesa Equine, where Joe and Dr. W hit upon the magic solution that has given Pookey a new lease on life (at least for today!)

Joe is holding in his hand the device that Pookey now has glued to his formerly painful right front foot. It is, of all things, a rubber shoe.

I realize that seems like kind of a 'duh' thing to non-horse people. After all, we wear rubber shoes when we have foot pain, right?

But rubber shoes are not that typical in the horse world.

In fact, in my half century or so of living, I have never seen another horse wearing a rubber shoe!

Anyway, on Wednesday Pookey got a great trim and a shoe that looks just like this:

And for the first time in many weeks, he is virtually pain-free!

In fact, he was trying to do a bit of 'the old soft shoe' on today's walk.

Next project: try to keep Pookey from dancing around in his stall...

Oh, and bake some cookies for Joe and Dr. W!

Whassup?

Whassup with Pookey Bear walking again?

Stay tuned for more info!

Homemade soaking boot

For those of you unlucky enough to be soaking a horse's foot, I have an innovative design for a homemade soaking boot I would like to share.

Pookey's veterinary team suggested using the sleeves that IV bags come in, but when I reached for the IV bag sleeves at my house, I realized they were cat IV bags, not horse IV bags.

Big difference!

So I have improvised.

I use a heavy duty two-gallon ZipLock bag that I have reinforced with duct tape, inside and out, bottom only. I simply slip this on the horse's hoof, set it down on something soft (usually a towel) and pour in the soaking solution. I then zip it partway shut, wrap the top lightly around his cannon bone, and slap on my big, puffy, easy-fasten TB track bandage over top.

Voila!

The best part is that with the toe being see-through, I can monitor his progress rather easily.

Well, what I hope is progress.

Warning: graphic photo alert!

Here is a photo of the tip of his toe, and a little area where I think we are starting to get some drainage...

Everyone who thinks this is drainage, raise your hand.

Everyone who thinks this is not drainage, raise your hand.

Hey, you, in the back there...

If it's not drainage, then what is it?!?!?

The Goal

Someday, Pookey's right front hoof is going to look like this again.

And when it does, I am going to do a casting of it, and fill it with molten bronze, and erect a hoof statue in front of the barn. There it will stand, as a reminder to me that hard work eventually pays off, right? And that things don't happen overnight, and that anything worth having is worth working for, and so on and so forth (feel free to fill in the platitude of your choice...)

Until that time, I am once again soaking, soaking, soaking, and massaging, and wrapping, and doping, and so on and so forth...

Pookey, thank goodness, is maintaining his cheerful attitude. His lameness today on our brief two-minute walk started out at a four on a five scale, but he picked up a lot of steam toward the end of his walk and improved to a three out of five.

We will see what tomorrow brings!

Doing Chores at Ice Station Zebra

Can you guess what these three tubs are doing in this photo?

Time's up!

I'll tell you. They are holding water, water that we ran into them three days ago before the arctic weather moved in.

Water that would supply our horses, when the faucets all froze.

So far our supply is holding up pretty well. I drag out the axe and chop on a tub first thing in the morning, dip enough for the five horses, then repeat the process twice more each day.

I am also spreading manure by hand, and hauling hay and feed in the wheelbarrow since the Ranger battery decided it didn't like the cold.

This morning I hefted all of our trash into the pickup before I checked to see if it would start.

It didn't, so I had to yank it all back out again and pile it into the wheelbarrow, a little bit at a time, for the journey down the road.

It took me five trips to get it all.

By the time I finished, my feet and hands were so numb that I didn't even realize I had cut my thumb.

When I finally noticed it, while parceling out feed, I grabbed a bottle of Pookey's povidone and splashed some on, liberally.

Pookey Bear continues to persevere, despite a lot of discomfort in his right front. I am massaging his pastern and coronary band several times a day, which he enjoys greatly.

Perhaps the cold will eventually numb the pain!