I got multiple calls Monday morning that my phone didn't feel like acknowledging until around 12:30. So helpful, my phone is. We are seriously besties.
BO: Carly, your horse is three-legged lame. It looks like his feet again, and not his legs. Call me, or come out.
Hubby: Call back BO. Bobby is lame.
BM: Hey, Carly. Just trying to get ahold of you about Bobby's feet. I think it's the crack in that front foot, but I had to give him some Bute. He can't even bare weight on it. So....call me.
High five for working together, phone. Always there for me when I need you.
I finally got to the barn and found Bobby parked in the far corner of his stall, refusing to come over even for a cookie. Pulled his bell boots off, checked his legs, picked his feet, and took his temp since he was sweating something awful. Normal temp, no heat or swelling in the legs, and no visible reaction to digging into his feet.
So I decided to take him out to the wash stall to give him a cool bath and get a better look at his tootsies. After leading him to the front of the stall with a trail of peppermints, I pull him out and immediately hear the clink of a super loose shoe. Was it loose because the farrier was really, really supposed to be out last week? You bet your balls it was. Fortunately, my horse is the best on the ground and he hopped/gimped after me into the crossties without a fight.
That RF shoe was loose and his toes are so long and cracked from being poor quality in general and being overdue to get done that I knew it had to come off. I've never pulled a shoe off with clips, and I've honestly never pulled one without supervision before, but BM wasn't going to be back for another twenty minutes so I pulled out my rasp and BO's nipper pully-things (I am destined to be a farrier), and got to work.
It took me a couple of minutes of grunting and swearing, but Bobby stood like a rock and as soon as I got the stupid thing off, he set his foot square and looked so much more comfortable. And no wonder. Look at this stupid thing:
Because it's so wet and so buggy out, and because of the lack of a properly fitting boot, Bobby got sentenced to jail until the farrier is scheduled to come. When is that, you ask? WELL. On Monday he said Thursday, but must have realized Thursday is the 4th, so he pushed it back to Friday. So fucking frustrating!!!!!! I hand walked him for twenty minutes in the indoor on Monday, poured some iodine in the giant crack, and set him up with a giant pile of hay and more shavings.
On Tuesday, I went to free him from prison and when picking at his foot, I managed to yank off a massive chunk of the flare with my bare fingers (Keep in mind that I am She Man and I can bust apart a rear window in a car with but a flick of the wrist.). I was a little giddy that I could now shove on his boot 95% of the way because that meant I could throw a saddle on him and tack walk him. It's just like training for a show!
|so enthused about walking.|
Fortunately, my horse is also a total gentleman when it comes to things like being confined in a stall and missing his daily 17 hours of turnout and still going out and walking around calmly like nothing has changed. Really, it's only when I try to accomplish things that we ever find ourselves in disagreement.
So we tack walked 30 minutes Tuesday, 30 minutes today, and we'll do 30 minutes tomorrow. This show season has been super awesome so far. I'm just waiting for the email to come in saying Sunday's event has been cancelled due to rain.