Saturday, May 17, 2008

He's home!

Snoopy finally came home yesterday, with a list of instructions on how to tell if there's something wrong with his cast. Dr. Hinton (I think that's her name - she has a German accent and it seems like everytime I say "Hinson" she says "Hinton" and everytime I say "Hinton" she says "Hinson") explained it all in great detail to Tina and me. It was quite a show, like the clash of the Titans; Tina trying to tell the doctor that she's got, like animal EMT training, and Dr. Hinton trying to tell Tina that she's obligated to explain everything, even if they're a freakin' doctor, and me standing in the middle of it all.

And now comes the part where we keep Snoopy in a stall for 6 weeks and keep him from being bored and feeling so good that he jumps around and re-injures the leg. I hung a toy (Jolly Ball-Apple Snack combo) from a chain and we're doing a little free-feeding of oat hay. He'll get a few alfalfa cubes, but not much. He needs the protein to help his bones knit together, but too much alfalfa will make him too fat and energetic.

I see Ace in our future.
With horses, it's always something.

See the photo from this morning's post? Pay attention to the bottom of the picture, in particular, the gap between the gate and the stall floor.

This afternoon, I walked past Snoopy as he lay, sleeping, in the soft hay. He woke up, stretched so that his cast was sticking out of the gap, then rose, jamming his injured foot in the opening. I immediately tried to get the chain unclipped to open the gate and free his foot. It was stuck.

Thus began a frenzied attempt on my part to free Snoopy, while he calmly pulled his leg to get it out of the trap. He finally bent the door and walked away.

Three-legged. Very three-legged. Oh-My-God-My-Horse-Is-Even-More-Broken three-legged.

Tina (my trainer) was out running errands. I called her, but she didn't answer. She never answers her phone. I'm considering having her cell phone physically installed somewhere on her body, and I don't think she'll like where she has to dial from.

I called Niki (my other trainer), who usually answers her phone. Not today. I called the hospital and got Dr. Brauer's voice mail. I left messages all over. Finally, I called Brigid Murphy, the vet who first looked at Snoop's leg. By this time, I was in tears, as I hate that feeling of abandonment.

Brigid came to my rescue. She drove over, looked Snoopy up and down, and suggested that we just watch him. After that, she went to the hospital and hunted down two surgeons, who agreed with her assessment.

In the meantime, Niki called back and told me to tell the guys at the ranch to take that f*&@!ing door off, Tina came home to tell me that she'll be watching Snoopy tonight, and I stopped wanting to weep uncontrollably.

Tonight, I'm having a Margarita. A big one.

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